> Rekindled Embers
>  by applezombi
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Part One: The Glow of Hope Lights the Torch of Revolution




Chapter 1


From an untitled scrap of notes, magically dated thirty-two years BF (Before Founding).  Incomplete.  Scrap was restored, preserved, and then locked in the vault at the secret archives of the Knights Mystic.  Last accessed 934 AF.

	“…ves that my plan might work.  I went to Rainbow Dash’s funeral just yesterday.  Nopony noticed me in this form; I suppose that’s a benefit.  As lovely as it is to s… [illegible] …ping over the death of their precious pet pegasus, it proves my concept.  I overheard Tw… [illegible] …th Princess Cadence that the four of them had lost their magical connection to the Elements when Dash died.  I guess that means Rarity might still be alive out there somewhere, but it hardly matters if none of them are connected to the Elements anyways.  Can you believe that idiot Dash died trying to…[an entire scrap of paper is ripped off here].

	“…time travel is an idiotic cliché of an evil villain plot, but we’re committed.  As long as what our pegasus ally tells us is true, it will be a simple… [illegible] …ter all, she did nearly destroy Equestria while she was still a foal.  [Illegible]… believe it either if I hadn’t managed to interview the yak about the whole thing.  She thought I was a reporter.  [Page ends, the next page is ripped]

	…is the biggest threat to our plans.  Your job, for now, is to keep her busy so she doesn’t realize what’s going on.  Keep her from the portal by any means if you have to until the time is right, and we can finally kill the bitch.  Or better yet, have the brainwashed masses do it for us.”

	[The notes are signed, but the signature is redacted in the original document.]

1106 AF (After Founding), New Canterlot City

The smell of grass, dirt, and pony sweat was a welcome combination in Emberglow’s nose.  The rose-colored pegasus was running down the path, her short red mane bound in a ponytail behind her, bouncing about as she surged ahead of her pursuer.  She giggled as she heard the stallion panting behind her, but she didn’t slow her gait, even though she was also nearly out of breath.  It was a good time for a bit of a sprint.

The path was well trod, wooded and finely maintained.  Emberglow knew that it was quite the privilege to live so close to the Everfree District of New Canterlot, with its myriad of parks and trails, wooded areas, grazing meadows, and wildlife preserves.  She tried to do all her exercise here, and much of her studying as well.  Sometimes both at the same time.  She turned her head to look at her father, who was finally catching up.

“Next card please, Dad,” she panted.  The black colored Earth pony with a short, military style cut blonde mane chuckled, but neither one of them slowed as he reached back into his saddlebag with his teeth and awkwardly retrieved the next flashcard.

“Ooo sur oo don wanna take a reak?” he mumbled through the paper he was holding in his teeth.  Emberglow giggled.  The two of them ran side by side as he held up the ‘question’ side of the flashcard for her to read.  “Cuz his is reary awkward.”

“Multitasking is an essential part of medical work, Dad.  You said so yourself.  Why can’t I study and jog at the same time?” Emberglow asked, grinning playfully at him.  Her father, Textile, just laughed as he held up the card for her to read.  It wasn’t the first time Emberglow had studied this way; her father was kind enough to write out study questions on flashcards and have Emberglow read them while they ran.  He might have thought the method a bit silly, but he played along for his daughter’s sake — she learned well during physical activity.  It didn't stop him from teasing her about it every single time they did it, though.  Her next test in her anatomy class focused on the skeletal system.

“Name the bone between the scapula and radius.  Easy, dad.  Humerus,” Emberglow scoffed.  Her dad smiled, and flipped awkwardly to the next card.  “Name the category of bones that are embedded within a tendon or a muscle, such as a kneecap.”  Emberglow thought for a moment, her hooves pounding the trail as she ran and tried to remember her studies.  “Sesamoid?  It’s sesamoid bones, right?”

“Yup,” her dad said awkwardly.  He flipped to a new card.

“Name the major bones of the wing.  Dad, we haven’t gotten to pegasus bones yet.  They won’t be on the test.”

“So you don’t know the answer?” her father asked tauntingly, after putting away the card in his mouth.  Emberglow rolled her eyes as she ran.  “Go on, Emberglow.”

“Humerus, ulna, radius, carpus, metacarpus, and, uh, digit?”

“That’s my girl,” the older stallion said fondly as he began to flip to the next card.

“Behind you!” came a voice suddenly from behind.  Both Emberglow and her father moved to the side of the trail as the faster runner passed by on the left.  They watched the pony moving quickly down the trail, in awe of her speed.  She wore cotton work out clothing, quite similar to what Textile and Emberglow were wearing, only clearly made of higher quality materials. What really caught her eye, though, was the image sewn into the cloth. While many ponies had images of their cutie marks embroidered on the sides of their clothing, this pony had the mark of Saint Applejack, three red apples emblazoned on her exercise clothing.

“That’s a Knight!” Emberglow exclaimed, excited.  Only Knights were allowed to wear the symbols of the six Saints — it was illegal for anypony else.  The pony ahead of them was still not too far to hear, and she turned and waved at the two behind them.  Emberglow couldn’t help herself; even though she was twelve, had her cutie mark, and was nearly about to begin her own higher education, she still reared up on her hind hooves and waved back.  The Knight ran on, and Emberglow basked in the warmth of her perhaps silly fillyhood hero worship.  

“I think that might be Knight Captain Ruby Berry.  She’s the magistrate for the 14th ward of the Merchant’s Walk.  Our magistrate.  A fine pony,” Textile said.

“She’s a Knight Vigilant?” Emberglow asked as the two of them ran on.  The pace was hard, though they had long been left behind by the magically enhanced pony in front of them.  Due to the mysterious and secretive rituals that Knights employed to be stronger, faster, and generally better than other ponies, it was no wonder the Knight had left them in her dust.

“Yes, and she’s a fine example of Saint Applejack’s teachings, for sure.  She’s been our magistrate for five years now.  I’ve only had to go before her once, when that waste-of-air huckster was trying to pass bad checks all throughout the Merchant’s Walk.  He only took us for about two hundred bits, but Knight Ruby got it back for us.”

“I remember that,” Emberglow said.  “It was just a few years ago.  I was ten, right?”

“Something like that,” Textile said, laughing.  “Your mother would remember the exact dates, I don’t have a head for that sort of thing.”

“Like keeping track of my birthday?  Dad, how old am I?” Emberglow asked teasingly.  Her father laughed again.

“Still too young to sass me like that, little lady.  Besides, you don’t officially turn twelve until fourteen minutes after six in the morning.  By my guess it’s still before five thirty.”  The little family wasn’t poor, but they by no means had enough money to afford personal watches.

“So we should go torment Mom?” she giggled.  Needle Point was still likely fast asleep; she liked to grump that she ‘refused to even acknowledge the utter insanity that was pre-dawn jogging’.

“Don’t be cruel.  You know how she is in the morning,” her father said with another laugh.  “We’ve been out here for about an hour, though.  Let’s cool down and head back.”

The circular path was beginning to light up as the sun made its way closer to the horizon.  The two ponies slowed their pace to a brisk trot.  About a half mile up ahead on the wooded, beaten path was a small turn out, where city officials had installed a flowing fountain and trough for any joggers who used the path.  The two of them paused to take a drink before continuing on with their cool down routine, stretching each muscle carefully in between drinks.

“Mind if I join you ponies?” came a voice from up the path.  A mare, the Knight from before, trotted up to the trough with them.  She was a light blue color, with a red mane nearly the same color as Emberglow’s. Unlike her own, though, the Knight’s mane was cut short, almost as short as Textile’s military cut.  Textile and Emberglow both bowed to her, respectfully inclining their heads.  Emberglow was nervous.  A Knight!  Talking with them!   Drinking from the same trough!  She was nearly giddy.

“Of course, my lady,” Textile said respectfully.

“Sorry if this seems a bit rude, but I was wondering.  I overheard the two of you studying for something?  While you were jogging?  It made me curious.”

“My daughter, lady Knight.  She’s beginning medical training in a month, and she likes to go over her flashcards when we jog.”  Emberglow flushed at the naked pride she heard in her father’s voice.  The Knight raised her eyebrows as she studied the young mare.

“Medical training?  My little pony, you can’t be more than thirteen!” the Knight exclaimed incredulously.  Emberglow blushed, and Textile smiled wide.

“Today is her twelfth birthday, my lady,” Textile said proudly.  “Emberglow, my daughter, received a cutie mark for medicine, and has an incredible memory for biology and anatomy.  She graduated from secondary school only a few months ago by taking advanced classes in her free time.”

“Remarkable,” the knight said with an impressed whistle.  “New Canterlot City needs more ponies like you, honest, hardworking ponies with goals and dreams.  I’m a magistrate, so I spend much of my time dealing with the opposite kind of ponies; reprobates, wastrels, and conponies.  My name is Ruby Berry.”

“We know, Lady Ruby.  My dad says you helped him get some bits back from a con artist a few years ago,” Emberglow said, finding her voice at last.

“You live in Ward 14?” the Knight asked, and the two ponies nodded.

“The best ward, my lady,” Textile responded, and it surprised the Knight into a laugh.  “My name is Textile.  My wife and I own a clothing shop on Emerald Street.”

“Oh, I remember now.  Shifty Sands was his name, passing bad checks.  I thought you looked familiar.  Sorry I didn’t remember you at first,” the Knight said.

“Oh, don’t apologize, Lady Ruby.  I guess it’s not a bad thing that my local magistrate doesn’t get to see me very often,” Textile said.  It took Lady Ruby a moment to realize he was making a joke, and she laughed heartily.

“No, I guess not.  Most the ponies I spend time with are either guilty of, or victims of, a crime.  Well, I should continue my workout.  Thanks for sharing the trough with me.”  The Knight turned, and was about to continue down the path when Emberglow managed to squeak out the question she’d been thinking the entire time.

“Um… Lady Ruby?” she said, annoyed at how much like a tiny nervous filly she sounded.  To be fair, though, she was small.  And a filly.  And technically quite nervous.  She didn’t even notice that her wings had extended a bit, and were fluttering nervously.  

“Hmm?” the Knight paused, turning again to look at Emberglow.  Textile eyed his daughter nervously.

“I-I was wondering; do you have any advice for somepony who wants to write a letter for… um… Knight Sp-sponsorship?”  She asked her question in a rush, the words nearly running over each other in a burst of nervous energy.  The Knight’s jaw dropped slightly, and she looked between Emberglow and her slightly embarrassed, but still proud-looking father.

“You’re entering medical school at age twelve, and you’re looking into asking for sponsorship?”  Lady Ruby asked, sounding impressed.  “Remarkable.  Ambitious.  Do you know which Holy Order you’re interested in joining?”

“The Knights Radiant, my lady.  Saint Rarity’s teachings have always held a special place for me, and with my cutie mark for medicine, I would dearly like to spend my life healing ponies.  But I don’t come from a noble or rich family, so…” she trailed off a little sadly at the end.

“So sponsorship.  But you are mistaken if you think that not being born into nobility is a mark of shame.  For one, your boundless ambition to better yourself and do well for those around you shows who you really are.  Then there are your wings; as you know, being born a pegasus is a sign of righteousness in a past life.  With what you have accomplished, many Knights would be willing to offer you sponsorship.

“So my advice?  Boldness with respect, as you have shown me, my little pony.  Write honestly of your accomplishments and ambitions.  Do not boast, but don’t hide behind false modesty.  Do you know the Knight you intend to write to?”

“S-sir Steadfast Word, lady.”

“Steadfast Word of the Knights Mystic?  It’s pretty rare for a Knight to offer sponsorship to an applicant who isn’t even planning on joining the same Holy Order,” Lady Ruby replied.  “Not unheard of, though.  Why him?”

“He… did me a kindness, years ago,” Emberglow said, looking down, not wanting to meet the Knight’s eyes.  Or her father’s; she knew he was also looking away, misty-eyed.  “It inspired me, made me want to join the Knights, to help people like he does.  Like you do,” she finished.  Lady Ruby smiled.

“Sounds like a good reason.  I know Steadfast.  I’ll send him a note, let him know to expect your letter.  Call it a birthday present.  And if he turns you down, come see me at my courtroom.  I can only sponsor one pony at a time, and I’m currently putting a young earth pony stallion from Appleoosa through Knight training, but I’m sure I can find some other Knight who would be willing to sponsor you.  I doubt Steadfast will pass you up, though.”

“Oh thank you, thank you, my lady!” Emberglow gushed.  Instinctively, she moved forward to embrace the older mare before remembering herself.  “Do you… um… may I…”

“I do accept hugs, young filly,” Lady Ruby said with a delighted laugh, holding out her front hooves for the youngster, who immediately hugged the generous Knight.  “Just be sure to stop by the Cathedral soon and thank the Saints for the serendipity of our meeting.”

“Oh, I will, my lady!  Thank you so much!” Emberglow was practically glowing, like her namesake.  She was one step closer to her ultimate goal, becoming a Knight, and making her family proud of her!  Well, more proud, she supposed.  She grinned over at her father, who was beaming as well.  Ruby Berry smiled at the scene before her, and with a little wave of her hoof, resumed her grueling pace down the trail.

“You know you have to be careful around Knights,” her father said in a low voice, as soon as Lady Ruby was out of earshot.  Not that he would ever speak poorly of the holy Knights, but Emberglow knew what he meant. Knights had near absolute power over the ponies around them, and not every Knight behaved with the same grace this one had.  Though Ruby Berry was a Knight for Saint Applejack, she clearly valued generosity and kindness, as well.  “C’mon.  Let’s go visit the Everfree Cathedral.”

Though it wasn’t their local cathedral, the Everfree Cathedral was closest to their jogging spot, and one of Emberglow’s favorites.  The two ponies walked down to where the jogging path intersected with Greenleaf Way, the street that bisected the Everfree District.  Everfree Cathedral was not ostentatious, nor was it large.  Unlike other structures in the rest of the city, it was partially exposed; the designers had wanted the faithful who worshiped there to never be out of touch with nature.  Rather than walls, the Cathedral had a series of arches and pillars, holding up the ceiling canopy above while leaving the sides nearly completely open.  Planters and hanging pots filled the Cathedral, flowing with greenery and flowers.

The ceiling itself was covered in soil; pegasus gardeners maintained a flower garden on the pointed roof.  As Textile and Emberglow approached, there was a single gardener working on the roof, carefully weeding between the flowers while carefully hovering, not touching his hooves to the roof at all.  He waved to them with a cheerful grin as they approached, but then returned to his work.

The interior of the Cathedral was shaped like many others.  A half circle of statues, three of earth ponies and three of pegasi, surrounded several concentric half-circle benches.  Each statue was unclad, so that the Saint’s carved cutie marks could be seen.  While some Cathedrals had larger statues, or more room for petitioners, the Everfree Cathedral felt intimate despite its open layout.  

Each Cathedral arranged its six statues differently, depending on the favored Saints of whoever constructed the cathedral.  The Everfree Cathedral, built nearly four centuries ago by a Sister of the Knights Radiant, gave its most prominent position to Saint Rarity and Saint Fluttershy, due to the former’s connection to the mare who constructed it, and the latter’s legendary connection with the creatures that used to live here, in what had once been called the Everfree Forest.  As usual, a small cloth had been draped over the head of Saint Fluttershy, obscuring her gaze from the sins of her wayward heretic children.

While the statues in the Cathedral were not painted, a planter in front of each contained a mix of flowers bearing the colors traditionally associated with each Saint.  The planter in front of Saint Rarity was a mix of violets and baby’s breath.  Emberglow looked at her father and smiled before assuming her usual spot, right in front of the statue of Lady Rarity.  Her father would usually sit near the middle, not favoring a particular saint, but today he moved over to sit in front of Saint Pinkamena’s statue.

“Lady Rarity, I know you were looking out for me today,” she whispered to the stone-carved earth pony in front of her.  She could hear her father muttering his own prayers over in front of Saint Pinkamena.  “It may have been you or Saint Applejack who put the magistrate in our path, but whoever it was, thank you.  I wish to serve you, and serve as you served.  Help look out for me while I’m in med school.”  She glanced over at the statue of the pegasus Saint Twilight Sparkle.  Maybe she should have been addressing her prayers about scholarship to her?  Gazing up at the carved eyes of Saint Rarity, she realized she could do that later.  She had never been as at peace with Saint Twilight as she was with Saint Rarity, or even some of the others.  Saint Rarity’s eyes just held a gentleness to them that drew her in; she could sit here for hours, breathing in the smell of the violets, feeling the wind dance across her fur.  She looked over at her father.  There were tears in his eyes as he prayed to Saint Pinkamena, as was often the case.  Emberglow herself had favored Saint Pinkamena once, before her little brother had been born.

Before they had seen his horn.

Emberglow didn’t bear Saint Pinkamena any ill will; not in the slightest.  But for the entire eleven months of Needle Point’s pregnancy, Emberglow had come to the Cathedral nearest their home every day to pray to Saint Pinkamena for her brother’s safe delivery.  When he had been born a unicorn, well… Saint Pinkamena had clearly been trying to teach her something, only she couldn’t tell what.  Since then, she had spent more time in front of the other Saints, even Saint Twilight.

Emberglow moved over to Saint Applejack, offering a quick prayer of gratitude for the kindness of her Knight, and even whispered a short but grateful word to Saint Rainbow Dash for their safe morning exercise.  

She then felt herself drifting towards Saint Twilight.  For some reason, the statue of the earth pony-turned-pegasus had always intimidated her, just a little.  Saint Twilight was always carved to look regal, royal, with her wings nearly always flared out to either side.  Seen as first among equals, she was usually carved to have a slightly longer wingspan than either of the other pegasus Saints, though Saint Fluttershy was only very rarely depicted as having spread her wings at all.  But the regal pose and piercing eyes always served to make Saint Twilight look overly stern to Emberglow, like the holy pegasus would swoop down at any second on the young pegasus filly to administer a stern rebuke, or worse.  She knew she shouldn’t feel that way, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Um… Saint Twilight?” she began, and felt guilty before she even spoke.  “I know we’re supposed to forget.  I know that.  But please.  Keep watch over Lucky Break.  I know he’s a unicorn, but he should be safe now, right?  In the relocation colony, without his horn, where he can’t hurt anypony.  So please, if you could let him know his sister loves him?  Inspire him to live his life well, so he can be reborn into better circumstances.  Thanks.”  She was supposed to forget that she’d ever even had a brother, but that first sight of Lucky Break, with his pale blue eyes, white fur, and black mane, was seared forever into her memory.  She’d only been five at the time, but she would remember forever, even though it might be a sin.

Emberglow looked up from her bowed position at the hoof of Saint Twilight’s statue to notice her father had walked over.  Even though it was customary to not overhear another’s prayers (or at least pretend to) the glaze in Textile’s eyes, and the look of gentle pride and love as he looked into hers, told her he had overheard.  Wordlessly the older earth pony reached out a hoof and pulled his daughter into a close hug, and the two ponies nuzzled their cheeks together.  Together they mourned quietly.  Emberglow looked up at Saint Twilight, and for a brief second, the nonliving stone appeared not stern or aloof, but understanding.  Compassionate.  There was a moment of serenity in the Cathedral as she knelt there, cuddled by her father.  Emberglow silently mouthed ‘thank you’ to Saint Twilight and broke away from her embrace with her father, sniffling just a little.

“Well, let’s go see if we can drag your mother out of bed.  If we’re lucky, she’ll have coffee ready for us.”

“That’s worth praying for,” Emberglow said with a giggle.

“Would you believe I already said as much to Saint Pinkamena?” her father said, smirking.  The two ponies were laughing together as they left the Cathedral.  

They didn’t walk home, but rather trotted.  While nothing near her workout (both mental and physical) in the Everfree, it still gave them a little time to get their heart rates up for a few extra minutes.  Emberglow loved to jog, especially with her father.  It had been almost two years ago when she had demanded he start working her up to where she could do the same exercise routines as enlisted ponies, as her father had once been.  She was nearing her goal of being able to run the same distances required by anypony who joined the military.

Needle Point Textiles, her parents’  shop, sat on Emerald Street, surrounded by dozens of other shops.  The Merchant’s Walk was a collection of streets, all named after gems like Emerald, Ruby, or Sapphire.  They were full of shops, mostly small two- or three-story buildings pushed close together.  Most shop owners ran their businesses themselves, and lived above their stores.  Needle Point Textiles was no different.  The storefront was glass, with a large display case on either side of the transparent glass door.  Each display case held one ponequin, with one decorated in a suit and hat, and the other sporting a summer dress in a floral print.  The ‘closed/open’ sign at the front door was flipped to closed, and the electric lights, installed just last year, were still switched off.

Emberglow was surprised to see the empty shop next to their own.  For weeks after Mr. Hardsell had retired, the store had remained empty, with a ‘For Sale’ sign in the window.  Today, though, the ‘For Sale’ sign was absent, and Emberglow could see a few crates inside the mostly empty store.

“Somepony bought Mr. Hardsell’s shop?” Emberglow asked.

“Oh yeah,” Textile responded.  “I met him yesterday.  He’s kind of odd. He was a carpenter out near Stalliongrad, but he wanted to retire to the city to make toys.  I think he said his name was Oak Chips.”

“He’s bought a shop so he can retire?”

“Apparently making toys is going to be much more relaxing than his normal work.  He told me he has enough saved that he doesn’t need to work at all, but he just loves carving so much that he couldn’t just stay idle.  I’ll take you to meet him in a few days.”

“I’d like that.  He sounds nice,” Emberglow said, as they moved on to their own family tailor shop.  The sign over the door bore the shop’s name.  Seeing the shop front often filled Emberglow with a mild pang of guilt.  She knew her parents could have been much more successful in a smaller town; with so much competition, and the high cost of living here in New Canterlot City, she knew they weren’t making nearly as much money, or saving nearly as much for their eventual retirement, as they would have if they were still living in a small town like Rainbow Falls, where they had moved from as soon as Emberglow had received her cutie mark.  It was just one of dozens of sacrifices her beloved parents had made for their daughter, and she felt the weight of those sacrifices keenly.  Here in the city, Emberglow could get a much better education than anything offered in the rural, or even suburban, schools.  She had once offered, when she’d realized all this, to give up on her education so that they could make more bits elsewhere.  She had been firmly denied, though her parents had appreciated her kindness.  Her mother always said she was far too mature for her age.

Textile reached into his saddlebag, where he kept Emberglow’s flashcards, their spare water canteens (in case the fountain wasn’t working for whatever reason) and the keys to his shop.  He pushed the door, swinging it open to reveal the shop inside.  The keys became slightly stuck in the lock as the door opened; with a muttered ‘whoops’ from Textile, they clanged to the floor, loudly tinkling against the tile floor before he could catch them.  Something about this felt odd to Emberglow, but she didn’t think about it.

The shop was ready for business, with several more ponequins filled with Emberglow’s parent’s creations.  Several racks were filled with hangars with different sizes, colors, and styles of clothes.   Her parents were not high fashion designers; they catered to the middle class, everyday ponies like themselves, with practical needs.  Not that Emberglow didn’t occasionally like to look at some of the high-end boutiques and dream, sometimes, but she loved the down-to-earth sensibleness of her parent’s designs.

In the back of the shop, behind the sales counter, was a wrought iron spiral staircase going up to the second floor, where the family’s living room and kitchen were, as well as some storage space for the store’s back stock.  Father and daughter ascended the staircase into the darkness above.  That was odd; by this point the sun was rising, and there had been plenty of light in the store below.  Somepony must have drawn the curtains in the large living room window, which rarely ever happened; her mother loved the sun.  “Natural lighting is good for the body and the soul,” was something Needle Point said frequently.  It had taken quite a bit for Textile to convince her that the expense of installing electric lights was worth it; in the end, it had been Emberglow’s study habits that had tipped the scales.

Emberglow was about to comment on the oddity, when the curtains were suddenly flung open.  Standing there, with a giant grin on her face, was Needle Point, her mother, fully awake though still dressed in her nightgown.  Light flooded the room to reveal a ponequin in the center of the room.

“Surprise!” her mother and father shouted in unison, giggling like foals.  In retrospect, it had been obvious.  The dark room, and Textile’s awkwardly dropped keys should have been a giveaway.  The two of them had moved a ponequin from the shop (again, a detail Emberglow should have noticed; they only had five in the shop itself, not counting the ones in the door display).  On it sat a gorgeous, hand-made creation.  It was a cream colored dress, with flared sleeves for her front hooves and a flowing skirt, wide enough to allow a full range of motion, with a modest slit going up to just above the knee.  A blue belt, built into the dress, would sit just above the hips.  Either side of the belt was fastened with a decorative buckle, custom-designed to look just like Emberglow’s cutie mark, a blue-outlined cross with a similarly blue crystal heart on the inside.  The buckles alone had to have been expensive, worth at least several days of the shop’s profits.  The skirt was cream-colored like the blouse but was polka-dotted with rose-colored dots, matching Emberglow’s fur.

Emberglow fell in love with the dress the second her eyes fell on it.

“Mom, Dad, I told you I didn’t need anything for my birthday,” she said, blushing, as she moved closer to the dress.  Her hoof went out, as if magnetically attracted to the soft fabric, and she brushed against the material of the blouse.  It was a soft and light satin, with just a hint of a shimmery, glossy look.  The belt was velvet, and she ran her hooves over that as well, reveling in the softness.  Her vision clouded; she was crying a little.  The dress looked simple on the outside, but the materials were finer than the practical cotton her parents usually worked with.  They had splurged for her.

“We know, sweetie,” her mom said.  “We just ignored you.”

“Your mother and I couldn’t help ourselves,” Textile said.  “We’re just so proud of you, and so happy about the pony you’re becoming.  We knew we needed to do something special.”

Emberglow turned to face them, her eyes leaking tears.  She was beaming at her parents, who had nearly identical silly grins painted across their muzzles.  Without a word, she ran over to where they stood in the living room, rearing up to encircle them both in a crushing hug.

“It’s beautiful.  Perfect.  I love it.  Thank you so much,” she whispered as she squeezed her parents in her embrace.

“We thought you might need something nice to wear besides your school uniform,” her mother replied, wiping at her own wet eyes with one hoof.  “Besides, who knows?  Maybe someday you’ll want to dress up a bit for a special somepony.”

That statement left a cold lump in the pit of Emberglow’s stomach.  Her parents didn’t know, because of course she’d never told them.  A few very carefully worded questions to her confessor had told her everything she needed to know; acting on her attraction to mares might be a sin, but the attraction itself was not.  As long as she never did anything about the lustful thoughts she had about her own sex, her parents would never need to know about them, right?  It did mean Needle Point’s occasional side comments of someday wanting grandfoals were uncomfortable.  She stepped gently away from the hug, her heart a twisted tempest of love, gratitude, and shame.

“Um, mom, you’ll never guess what happened on our run today,” Emberglow began, a little awkwardly.  Needle Point didn’t seem to notice the discomfort.

“You’ll have to tell me over breakfast, Emberglow.  But first, early morning jogging ponies need to shower.” She wrinkled her snout at them.  “Both of you.  I’ll go make pancakes.”  Emberglow found herself grinning again.  Pancakes were her favorite.  

“Mom, you don’t have to, oats are…”

“Not nearly good enough for my little princess on her twelfth birthday,” Needle Point interrupted firmly.  “Now go, wash your exercise funk off, and there might even be strawberries.”

Emberglow couldn’t help herself.  With a filly-like squee, she ran upstairs to the home’s only shower, chased by the sound of her parents’ laughter.

The bathroom was small but clean, and the only one in the house.  It was located on the third floor, the same space as her bedroom, and her parent’s room.  She quickly shed her exercise clothing.  Emberglow had long since learned to limit her time using the shared space.  She had never been much for primping or makeup, anyways.  She stepped into the small, one pony shower, and turned the handle to start the flow of water, letting out a shriek of terror when she realized she’d grabbed the wrong knob by mistake and had soaked herself with icy water.  Quickly twisting the correct knob, she let out a sigh of relief as the hot water sluiced away her sweat.  Wasting only a brief moment to luxuriate in the water, she picked up the bottle of liquid, rose-scented soap that was her favorite, and squeezed a dollop onto her loofah.  She thoroughly rubbed herself down with the sweet lather, before taking a moment to rinse off and step out of the shower onto the fuzzy bath mat.

Emberglow knew her parents were talking.  The comment from her mother would have prompted a conversation with her father, and Textile would now be trying to find a diplomatic way to speak with Needle Point about Emberglow’s plans.  She’d always been able to be brutally honest with her father, but it broke her heart to disappoint her mother in any way.  

After drying off, she quickly brushed her mane and tail, tying back the former in her customary ponytail.  She was about to slip her bathrobe on in order to run to her room to get clean clothing when she heard a gentle knock on the door.

“I grabbed something for you to wear, it’s outside the door,” she heard her mother say.  Emberglow cracked the door open and saw the dress, her new, beautiful, beloved dress, folded just outside the door.  She excitedly snatched up the garment and closed the bathroom door, with a call of ‘Thanks, mom!’ shouted down the hallway.  

The dress felt as good as it looked.  It was perfectly sized for her, which made sense because her parents were professional tailors.  The material was soft and comfortable, and she felt like she could move well.  Emberglow took a moment to admire the decorative buckles in the mirror; her parents must have been planning this for months, because they were custom made of metal and crystal, beautiful without being ostentatious.  When she was finally ready to leave the bathroom, her father was waiting patiently, a fresh towel and his everyday clothes piled on his back.

“Wow, you look amazing, Emberglow,” he said, and she blushed.

“Of course I do, you two made the dress, and you’re amazing,” she replied.

“My little girl would look great in a potato sack,” Textile said with a huff and a smile, before trotting into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.  Emberglow rolled her eyes and went downstairs, to see if her mother needed any help with breakfast.

The batter was already cooking in the pan on the stove when Emberglow walked into the kitchen.  Her mother, spatula in hoof, turned to look her daughter over.

“You look great, sweetie,” Needle Point said, and Emberglow smiled.

“It’s the dress,” she replied, and her mom shook her head.

“Not just the dress, and you know it, pretty girl.  Now, can you help chop up the strawberries?”

Emberglow was perfectly happy to help with that chore.  She chopped the strawberries and cooked them down with some sugar to make a syrup.  Meanwhile, Needle Point kept cooking the pancakes, adding to an ever growing stack.

“So we ran into a Knight while we were jogging this morning,” Emberglow began, unable to wait any longer until breakfast to share the story of what had happened with Ruby Berry.

“Oh?” her mother asked, interested.

“Yeah, it was the local magistrate.  Lady Ruby Berry.  She’s really nice,” Emberglow said.

“I’m sure she is.  Your father was very impressed with her after that nasty business with that fraudster a while back.”

“Yeah, they talked about that a bit.  And I asked her about writing my letter.”

“Your letter?  Oh.”  Needle Point’s voice dropped a little with hesitation.  “What did she say?”

“Well, she was asking about me, and why I was studying while running, and we told her about medical school and stuff, and when I asked her about the letter she said she’d put in a good word with Sir Steadfast.”  Emberglow realized her mistake as soon as the words left her lips.  Her mother went pale, her green eyes stricken.

“S-sir Steadfast?  That’s who you’re going to write to for sponsorship?” her mother asked, trying and failing to steady her voice.  Emberglow reached up a hoof to her mother, gently resting it on the older mare’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, mom.  I should have said something sooner.  I didn’t mean to spring it on you like this.  Yes, I’m going to write to him.  I know…” she took a deep breath, trying not to notice the unshed tears in Needle Point’s eyes.  “…I know that he’s kind.  That he took the time, during one of the hardest and worst days of my life, to comfort a little filly whose entire world had just shattered.  To answer her questions, and to try and make things better.  Mom, I wanna do that for other ponies.  Not exactly in the same way, but he inspires me.”

“That…that’s beautiful, sweetie,” Needle Point said, sniffing.  “So you’re going to try to become a Knight Mystic, like Sir Steadfast?”  There was a hopeful note in Needle Point’s voice that Emberglow didn’t miss.

“No, mom.  I’m still wanting to try for the Knights Radiant.  I feel a connection to Saint Rarity, ever since… well, you know.  I think that is where my talent will be the most useful.”

“Just checking, Emberglow,” her mom said, though they both knew there was more to it than that.  “You might have changed your mind, after all.”

“No, mom.”  Both mares were silent for a moment while they prepared the food.  “Mom?  I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for, sweetie?” Needle Point asked, though Emberglow heard the slightest quaver of sadness in her mother’s voice.  A hundred ways to bring up the subject, to apologize again, to talk about what her mother was really sad about, passed through her mind.

“Nothing, mom.”

“Emberglow… I love you very much,” her mother said, pausing from her efforts at the stove to take her daughter’s face in both hooves.  The mares gazed eye to eye.  “I am so proud of you; you have been a blessing straight from the Saints for both me and your father.  I don’t know what the Saints saw in us to bless us with a pegasus daughter, but not a day has gone by that I haven’t thanked them for you.  No matter what you do, no matter what you choose, I will love you, and I will be proud of you.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her mother her deepest secret.  The dark shame, the sinful lust that she struggled with.  But at that moment, her father entered the kitchen, dressed in his everyday work clothes.

“Pancakes!  And strawberries!” the stallion cheered, and the rest of his family laughed.  The three of them sat down at the table, and Textile asked a prayer on the food.

“Six Saints, please bless this food we are about to eat.  Bless our daughter on her birthday, and be with her while she studies.  All Saints keep us.”

“All Saints keep us,” the other two intoned with him.

Birthday pancakes somehow tasted even better than regular day pancakes.  The little family relished in their morning time around the table, laughing and telling stories.  When it was time to open the store, Emberglow stayed behind to finish cleaning the dishes while her parents went downstairs to prepare for the sales day.  She used the time alone to think about the conversation with her mother.

There was something about her decision to pursue Knighthood that disappointed her mother.  What was it?  Emberglow knew that her mother was honest, nearly to a fault, and so was fairly certain that she wasn’t lying when she said how proud she was of Emberglow.  What was it, then, that put that look in Needle Point’s eyes?

Was her mother worried for her?  Knights lived dangerous lives, it was true.  They were the elite of the elite, more powerful than the strongest soldiers in the Holy Equestrian Diarchy’s military.  A sacred ritual, only undertaken at the final moment of the supplicant’s Knighting, led to super pony abilities; they could run farther and faster, stay awake for days, and fight stronger than other ponies.  And that wasn’t even counting the enchanted armor and rune spell batteries that allowed a Knight to cast magical spells.	

With all that protection, however, Knights were often sent on the most dangerous assignments, the most challenging missions, where violence was guaranteed and fighting was often lethal. No one of the Holy Orders was safe, so perhaps that was what had Needle Point so worried?

Emberglow wondered what it had been like before she was born, when Textile had been a soldier himself.  Born to a poor family, Textile had never had the chance to embark on the path to Knighthood.  Instead, he had served as a combat medic, on the front lines of the border skirmishes with the dragon lands.  Textile still had a few scars, mostly on his barrel and sides, where dragon claws had rent his flesh in the heat of battle.  Emberglow had always loved to hear the stories of his fights with the dragons, but her favorite parts were about the ponies he had healed, the stallions and mares whose lives he had saved.  It was a big part of what had interested her in reading medical texts to begin with, which naturally had led to her cutie mark.

Oh well.  Whatever Needle Point was really worried about, there was little Emberglow could do about it.  She decided to let the matter rest for now, and finished drying the last of the plates, replacing them in the wooden cupboard above the sink.  She went down the iron stairs to the shop, so she could spend the day helping her parents run the store.

Emberglow knew a little bit about sewing, but she didn’t have her parent’s talent.  She was able to run the register, however, and she knew just enough, having grown up her entire life in a tailor shop, to answer any questions the customers had.  This freed her parents to move into the workroom in the back of the shop, where there were two sewing machines, and dozens of shelves lined with material, tools, thread, and other implements for sewing and creation.  Emberglow loved to hear them chattering away as they created, sometimes bickering lightly about this or that idea, but never with any malice.  She had her own little stack of books underneath the sales counter; if things became slow, she could sit and read.  Currently resting on top of the stack was the classic medical text, Grey’s Pony Anatomy.  Her father had declared his incredulity that she could stand to read such a dull tome, but Emberglow loved to learn; every new fact, new name for a bone, or detail about this part of the circulatory system or that organ and how it worked, was like unburying hidden treasures for her.  

Today was going to be a little different, however.  Instead of sitting behind the counter and reading, Emberglow was determined to be standing in front of it.  Every pony who came into the shop would see the beautiful dress that her parents had made for her, surely with great time and expense.  Neither Textile nor Needle Point had asked her to model for them, but she was not going to pass up this opportunity to advertise for her hardworking family.  It didn’t hurt that she truly loved the dress.

As she had expected, Emberglow received several compliments about her attire throughout the work day.  While her parents were working on custom orders and alterations in the back, dozens of ponies came through the shop looking for off-the-rack attire.  Many mentioned the dress, and Emberglow made sure to summon one of her parents each time, so they could personally hear the compliments for their work (and maybe even pick up a commission or two for future dresses).  It only took a few times of this for her parents to realize what she was doing, and from the amused smirks from her mother and patient eye-rolls from her father, she didn’t think they minded too much.  It did make the day pass swiftly, and Emberglow was practically prancing the entire time.

When the family finally closed up the shop for the evening, Needle Point asked her daughter what she would like for a birthday dinner, and was only slightly surprised when the young mare sheepishly asked for pancakes again.  Reasoning that birthdays were special, and only happened once a year, the family repeated their morning meal in the evening, though both adults teased Emberglow a little for it.  She didn’t care; she had pancakes.  And strawberries!

Lying in bed that night, however, Emberglow couldn’t sleep.  Tomorrow she would begin work on her sponsorship letter, and she couldn’t shake the anxiety that it would have to be perfect.  She lay in her bed, covered by her blankets but with the window still wide open.  Emberglow preferred sleeping in a cold room with lots of blankets.  

Her ears perked up at a soft sound drifting in through her window.  Somepony was crying.  It was her mother.

She knew she should just ignore it, and go to sleep.  If Needle Point wanted Emberglow to know what was wrong, she would say something.  But as the sobbing continued, her guilt and curiosity would not fade.  Emberglow sidled up to the window as quietly as she could, trying to get a better idea of what was upsetting her mom.

“I’m a terrible mother,” Needle Point sobbed.  Emberglow could hear Textile shushing his wife.

“No, you’re not,” he started, but she interrupted him.

“Yes, I am.  I’m a terrible mother, and I’m selfish and vile.  I’m so proud of her, but…”

“Talk to me, Needle Point.”

“She’s joining the Knights Radiant, Textile.  You know what that means.”

“It’s not set in stone which Holy Order she’ll join.  She might not even make it into any of them.”

“You know our daughter as well as I do, Textile.  She’s set her mind to it.  She won’t give up, not ever.  She’ll get what she wants.  And then… and then she’ll never…” Her mother cut off, her sentence ended by a fresh wave of sobbing.  Emberglow was confused.  She’d never… what?  She listened while her father comforted her mother more.  “Is it too much to ask?  To hope for?  Just one more time, Textile.  Just one more time I wanted to hold a foal in my hooves.  A grandfoal would have been just fine.”

Oh.  That was it.  Emberglow felt like she’d been kicked straight in the gut.  Of course.  The Knights Radiant were everything Emberglow had wanted; she would have a chance to share her talent with the world, healing and saving ponies, and spreading the love of the Saint of Generosity to everypony around her.  But the Knights Radiant swore an oath of celibacy.  She would never have foals.  Why had Needle Point never said anything about all this to her?

“It’s not too much to ask, and it’s okay to feel sad, Needle Point.  That doesn’t make you a bad mother, or a bad pony.”  Emberglow could have cheered at her father.  Of course it didn’t!  Needle Point was the best mother ever!  “Emberglow knows that, too.  She loves you.”

“I know.  She’s perfect,” Needle Point said, sounding just a little bitter.  “I hate myself sometimes…”

“No!  Please don’t talk like that.  I love you.  Emberglow loves you.  You’re a wonderful mother, or else why would the Saints have trusted you with a pegasus to raise?”

“What about Lucky Break?” Needle Point murmured.

“Even unicorns need a chance to be born, if only so they have the opportunity to better themselves in the relocation colonies.  The Saints knew you were strong enough to handle it.”

“I’m not handling it, Textile.  Clearly.”

“Do you want to tell Emberglow she shouldn’t write the letter?” Textile asked.

“No!” Needle Point protested, nearly shouting.  “I would never…”

“Exactly.  Because that’s not who you are.  You don’t try to control her, or shape her into what you want her to be.  Instead you’ve always let her be herself, and loved her no matter what.  That sounds like handling it just fine to me.”

“But… is it too much to wish for?  Just one grandfoal?”

“Wishing’s always fine.  Needle Point, I want the same thing, believe me.  When it gets to be too much, we can cry together.  Don’t let it bottle up.”

“Okay…”

Emberglow couldn’t listen any more.  As silently as she could, she got out of her bed and slowly slid the window closed, cutting off the sound of her parent’s tears.  Her own eyes were wet.
> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 2


Typewriter copy of a letter, obtained from the office of Sir Steadfast Word of the Knights Mystic.  The reply is also included

	Sir Steadfast Word,

	My name is Emberglow.  I am writing to humbly request your financial support and sponsorship in my efforts to attain Knighthood.  My family has neither the resources nor the influence to do this on our own.

	I am only twelve years old at the time of writing this letter.  I realize that Knight training does not typically begin until a pony is fourteen, but I will be entering medical school next month.  My goal is to complete my three-year medical school training, then begin working towards Knighthood when I am fifteen.  I wished to begin the process of sponsorship now, in case I needed to alter my medical school plans or schedule in order to accommodate Knight training.

	I believe I should also mention that I intend to try and join with the Knights Radiant.  Though it is rare for a pony to ask for sponsorship from somepony not a member of the Order she is aspiring towards, you have been a great source of inspiration and spiritual strength to me over the last few years of my life.  I am determined to succeed at my goals, but I thought it would be appropriate to first ask you for sponsorship before seeking other options.

	Should you require proof of any of my claims, I have attached copies of my high school diploma and my acceptance letter to medical school.  Thank you for your time and consideration.

	Sincerely,

	Emberglow


	Dear Miss Emberglow,

	I would be delighted to consider you for sponsorship.  Please meet with me at my office at Suite 3H of Star Shine Memorial Building, located at 387 Nightsky Way, at 3 PM this Thursday.  If the time is not acceptable, write to my secretary at that address and we will find a more convenient time.

	I look forward to speaking with you.  You seem like a remarkable young lady.

	Signed,

	Sir Steadfast Word, Master Inquisitor, Knights Mystic

A hoofwritten note is also attached to the two letters.  “Steadfast- Thanks for supplying these.  I don’t think they’ll be very relevant to our investigation, but it does give us some insight into the suspect’s early life.  I’ll let you know if we need anything else.”




1106 AF, New Canterlot City

“Sweetie, don’t you think a bow would look nice?” Needle Point asked as her hooves fussed over Emberglow’s mane.

“Mom, stop fussing,” Emberglow grumped, doing her best to stop herself from fending off her mother’s nervous hooves with her wings.  “I’m fine.  I look fine.  The dress is enough.”

“But Emberglow, what if…”

“Mom, please,” Emberglow sighed.  Textile had already retreated from the feminine battleground he’d seen brewing.  He was downstairs minding the shop while Needle Point got Emberglow ready for her interview.  They had both offered to close the shop for the day just to help her get ready, but Emberglow thought that would have been unnecessary.  She insisted they not fuss over her too much.  Like Needle Point was, right now.

“Well, if you insist, sweetie, but I still think…”

“Oh, look at the time!” Emberglow gasped desperately, glancing at the clock sitting on the living room wall above their couch.  She didn’t even look long enough to read the hands.  “I should get going!”  She dashed towards the spiral staircase, running down the steps two at a time, chased by her mother’s cry of surprise.  

The shop was empty, except for Textile, who shot Emberglow a sympathetic look as she fled into the room with her mother in pursuit.  When Needle Point got down the stairs, she shared a look with her husband, but she said nothing.

“Do you need me to walk you down to the inquisition building, Emberglow?” Textile asked.  Emberglow shook her head.

“I do know where to find it, Dad.”

“Maybe we should put that differently, dear,” Needle Point said more forcefully.  “Emberglow, your father and I would feel much less nervous about this whole thing if one of us walked you down to the building and waited during your interview.  Would that be okay?”  Emberglow laughed.  

“Well, I guess so,” Emberglow said, feigning reluctance.  Both of her parents smiled.

“I’ll watch the shop.  You two have fun, and be sure to come straight home with the good news.  I’ll make a celebratory cake, or something.”

“You’re acting like I already got the sponsorship, mom,” Emberglow said.

“I’m just that confident,” Needle Point replied.  “Now hurry.  If you’re ten minutes early, you’re on time.  If you’re on time, you’re late.”

“Yes, mother,” Emberglow said, mock grumpily.  It was one of her mother’s favorite sayings, and one that Emberglow secretly believed.  It was a foal’s job to be annoyed at her parents, though, and she would happily oblige. 

 She left the shop with her father in tow, and the two of them set off towards the Temple District, a few miles’ walk away from their shop.  They could have arranged for a taxi, something her parents had offered to do, but Emberglow didn’t feel the need to spend the money.  A half hour’s walk wasn’t too much. 

Unlike the Merchant’s Walk, the Temple District didn’t have any commercial buildings or shops.  Instead it held the official buildings of the Holy Equestrian Diarchy, from the central (and largest) cathedral, to the offices of the papacy, the office buildings of the five remaining Holy Orders, and even the offices of the mayor of New Canterlot City and other local government buildings.  Both literally and politically, it was the center of all New Canterlot City.

The buildings in the Temple District were much taller than the ones near Emberglow’s parent’s shop, with some of them reaching as high as ten or twelve stories into the sky.  The structures were as varied as they were beautiful, their diverse architectural styles alluding to the rich history of the city.  

The most impressive building, of course, was the High Cathedral, situated right in the center of the city.  Six tall spires, each one towering more than thirteen stories high, were arranged in a circle around a central hub.  Each of the spires was decorated with a fresco of one of the six Saints, their watchful gazes looking out over all of New Canterlot.  The soaring spires of the High Cathedral were visible from anywhere in New Canterlot City, and ponies liked to think that the Saint that looked out over their particular section of the city was special to them, watching out for them specifically.  Legend said that at one time, the ground that held the High Cathedral had been the home of a massive castle, constructed entirely of crystal, which housed Saint Twilight and her fellow Saints.

The place Emberglow was headed, Star Shine Memorial Building — though it was often just called just the Inquisition Office — was the office building that did the business of the Knights Mystic, Saint Twilight’s Holy Order of Knights. About a block away from the High Cathedral, this edifice was shorter than the former building, though it looked no less majestic to her. Constructed to resemble a fortress, it had square walls made of grey stone, with stylized battlements on the top. Into the towering walls were carved images of Saint Twilight’s cutie mark, a six pointed star.

The Knights Mystic were dedicated to keeping the Diarchy free from the threats of unicorns, heretics, and other magical threats.  The building was named after Star Shine the pegasus, one of the first members of the Knights Mystic and a martyr in the Second Great Heresy who had died at the hooves of the dreaded Sunset Shimmer herself. Indeed, the stallion himself, immortalized in sculpture, stood valiantly in front of the entrance of the building, wings spread dramatically. Saint Twilight’s cutie mark was carved into the flank of his Knight Armor, as usual for a Knight Mystic, but Star Shine wore his own cutie mark as a medallion about his neck; a trio of stars, arranged in a diagonal line.

Emberglow and her father walked past the statue and into the building.  The large, open double doors led into a rotunda that split into several hallways.  Directly in front of the entryway was a huge staircase going up; apparently the Knights Mystic didn’t believe in elevators.  In front of the staircase was a circular desk with two secretaries, a pair of older mares.  Textile and Emberglow walked up to the secretaries.

“Can I help you ponies?” one of the mares asked.  Emberglow hesitated, but Textile nudged her forward.  He was going to let her do all her own speaking, apparently.

“I have an appointment with Sir Steadfast Word,” she said, trying to sound as confident as possible.  “Can you tell me how to get to his office?  It’s suite 3H.”

“Of course, dear.  3H is on the third floor.  Head up those stairs behind me to the third floor, then take a left.  His office has both the suite number and his name on a plaque outside.”

“Thanks, ma’am,” Emberglow said, and Textile nodded at the secretary.  There were few other ponies in the building; most of them were dressed in purple robes, though there were a few wearing Knight armor.  Emberglow tried her best not to ogle like a tourist.  She was only mostly successful.

They reached the top of the stairs and headed left.  The door to suite 3H was open, and the two ponies passed by the plaque on the wall to the right of the door.  It read ‘Sir Steadfast Word, Master Inquisitor.’

3H’s front room was a small waiting area, with a desk, two chairs, and a door to the inner office.  Sir Steadfast was important enough to have his own personal secretary, a young stallion dressed in similar robes as those downstairs.  The only differences were the fact that it was dyed white, and the decoration on the flank of the robes: it was emblazoned with all six cutie marks of the Saints.  Only Knights could wear the sacred symbols of the Saints, but squires, Knights in training, wore a mix of all six.  The red earth pony looked up from his typewriter as they walked in.

“You’re the appointment for Sir Steadfast?  Uh…” The pony glanced at a note on his desk.  “Miss Emberglow, right?  He’s waiting for you.  Your um…” He motioned at Textile.

“My father,” Emberglow supplied.

“Your father can wait out here,” he finished.  Emberglow nodded.  The squire stood up and opened the door for her politely, and she walked nervously into Sir Steadfast’s personal office.  She suddenly felt queasy; after years of studying and effort, the entirety of her future plans rested on this one single interview.

The office wasn’t large, but wasn’t small either.  There were two large bookshelves on either end of the room, crammed full of books and loose papers.  The few bare spots on the wall were covered with two paintings; Emberglow recognized one of them as a cityscape of New Canterlot City.  A large desk, scattered with disorganized papers, sat in the middle of the room.  There were at least a half dozen books stacked precariously on the desk, as well.  Behind that desk sat the owner of the office himself.

“You are Miss Emberglow?” the stallion asked politely, rising to his hooves to walk around the desk and shake her hoof.  She nervously accepted the gesture.  Sir Steadfast was wearing his armor, but had removed the helmet.  It was sitting on the floor next to his desk.  The armor was lavender, and emblazoned with Saint Twilight Sparkle’s cutie mark on the flank section.  Sir Steadfast himself was a light blue earth pony, with a short military cut black mane and a narrow, well-trimmed moustache.

“Yes sir,” she said respectfully, grateful that her voice didn’t stutter in her nervousness.

“Please, have a seat,” he motioned to a bench on the other side of his desk.  She sat down.  He moved to sit behind his desk. The office went silent except for the shuffling of papers as Sir Steadfast rearranged the mess on his desk to place a single manila folder on top.  He took a sip from a steaming mug that had been sitting on top of a stack of reports.  Emberglow couldn’t help herself; in the brief silence she began to fidget, shifting in her seat as she waited for Sir Steadfast to break the silence.

“So.  An odd request for sponsorship from a very odd, but impressive, little pony,” he said as he looked at Emberglow appraisingly.  Emberglow jumped a bit as his voice broke the silence.  His expression was inscrutable; Emberglow was having a hard time reading him.

“Um, yes sir,” she said uncertainly.  She didn’t quite know how to respond to that.  Sir Steadfast smiled gently.

“Tell me, why do you want to be a Knight?  Some would say there is a humble dignity in a pony doing their best in the place the Saints put them in,” Steadfast said.  Emberglow tensed, her nervous excitement turning anxious in an instant, only slightly allayed by the small smile he still wore on his face.  It was true; the Book of the Saints taught that reaching above one’s station in life was a sin.

“I, uh…” Emberglow stammered, thrown completely off balance.  “I want to help ponies.”

“There are many ways to help ponies, young lady, several far less dangerous than Knighthood.  Why do you want to be a Knight,  Emberglow?” Sir Steadfast asked, leaning forward intently.  He was looking for something more, she thought, and she silently cursed her first lackluster answer.  She forced herself to relax, breathing slowly to calm her budding panic as she concentrated on a more thoughtful answer.

“I want to heal.  To help ponies like Saint Rarity helped.  My dad was a medic in the army, but I think I could do more,” Emberglow said, then flinched at how arrogant she sounded to herself.  Sir Steadfast waited a moment before nodding sagely, and Emberglow tried not to sigh with relief.

“A good answer,” Sir Steadfast said.  He shifted through the papers on his desk again and pulled out a new folder.  When he flipped it open, Emberglow couldn’t help but glance at it to see her school transcripts.  “I looked into your background a bit. You have excellent marks in school, and you’re graduating two years early.  Very impressive, but you won’t be able to enter the Ivy Seminary for two years.  Your letter said you had been accepted to medical school, and that you wish to train for Knighthood after graduating. Are you sure a little pony your age can accomplish so much?” Sir Steadfast mused.  He was probing, challenging her, and she could tell.  But did she answer with confidence, or humility?  She took a gamble.

“I am sure, sir.  I’m prepared,” she said, her heart pounding.  The small, satisfied smile that spread across Sir Steadfast’s face settled the butterflies in her stomach, just a bit.

“I wasn’t quite sure, so I spoke to some ponies while I was looking into you.  Your school principal, Pencil Lead, thinks you have the work ethic to manage.”

“That’s good to hear,” Emberglow said, a little surprised.  Pencil Lead had always seemed distant, a disciplinarian with no humor.

“Those study habits will serve you well in both medical school and in the Seminary,” Sir Steadfast said.  He paused, his face thoughtful as he tapped a hoof idly on his desk.  “Tell me, if you’re going to be learning healing magic from the Knights Radiant, why bother learning mundane inferior medicine at all?”

“I don’t want to be useless if I run out of magic.  Besides, it’s my special talent.  I got my cutie mark for medicine,” Emberglow replied.

“That’s a very well-reasoned answer, young lady,” Sir Steadfast said with a nod.  “It does lead me to another question, though.  Does it bother you that you will be starting at the Seminary a year later than other ponies?”

“Not at all, sir.”

“You say that now.  But being different will make you stand out.  It could lead to difficulties you don’t understand quite yet, on top of an already demanding curriculum.”

“I know it will be demanding, sir.  I’ve been doing physical training for two years now.  Mostly running and obstacle courses, but flight training on occasion when I can.”

“Ruby Berry did mention meeting you while jogging.  That’s quite disciplined for a twelve year old.  But physical difficulties are not the only thing that causes some young ponies to reconsider.  There are mental difficulties, and emotional ones.  Some ponies just aren’t strong enough.”

“Like what, sir?”

“The other pages, for one.  Some will see you as beneath them, because you are not pursuing Knighthood due to your family connections or wealth.  Some will be jealous of your successes.  Many of them will look down on you and bully you because of it.  

"Then there is the course material,” Sir Steadfast continued. “ It is rigorous.  Knights carry the entire weight of the Holy Diarchy Church on their shoulders; it is our job to take on the hardest duties, the most tasking jobs.”  His eyes were locked onto hers, and her breath caught.  Emberglow was sure he wouldn’t remember her, not after all these years.

“I know, sir…” she whispered, her throat suddenly dry, her mouth moving soundlessly as she tried to think of what to say.  His lips pursed slightly in thought.

“Something on your mind, young lady?”

“I-it’s nothing, sir,” Emberglow stammered.  His eyes narrowed slightly.  “Um, it was a long time ago—”

“Ah,” Sir Steadfast said, his eyes flashing with recognition as a look of mournful empathy crossed his face.  “Your brother.”

“W-what?” Emberglow reeled.  He remembered?  She was sure he had more important things to think about than her past.

“Your brother.  He is a unicorn, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” Emberglow said, with a slow steadying breath.  “I didn’t think you would remember him.  It’s been eight years.”

“I remembered as soon as I saw your name,” he revealed.  “It makes me wonder, though.  Why ask me to sponsor you?  Most ponies would hesitate to approach somepony who took away one of their family.”

“Sir, you are my inspiration for wanting to join the Knighthood,” Emberglow said.  She felt a rush of confidence.

“Oh?” Sir Steadfast asked, sounding curious. 

“Sir, that was without exception the very worst day of my life.  Ever.  But what I remember is a Knight, doing a hard and bitter duty, who took the time to comfort a little confused and heartbroken filly who had no idea what was going on.  You answered my questions, Sir.  You let me cry on your shoulder, and you made sure I understood as well as a five-year-old could.  Of course I remembered.”

“That’s… well, you’re making me into more of a hero than I am, Emberglow,” Sir Steadfast said.  

“I don’t think anypony can understand how important that day was to me, Sir.  It’s why I want to be a Knight.  It’s why I picked the Knights Radiant,” Emberglow said softly.  “I want to help ponies to heal their wounds and their hearts, like what you did for us.”

“You know, the Saints command us to forget,” Sir Steadfast said, his voice soft and full of regret.  It was true.  The Book of the Saints commanded families to forget about their unicorn family members.

“I’ve tried, sir,” Emberglow admitted, feeling tiny in his gaze.  

“I remember every unicorn I’ve ever de-horned,” Sir Steadfast said, and Emberglow stared at him in shock.  “Surprised?  You needn’t be.  Knights are ponies just like everypony else.  We carry heavier burdens, though.  Burdens you will have to be prepared for.  It will be difficult.”

“I understand, sir.  Or maybe I won’t understand until I get there.  I’ve got three years to prepare, too.  But I won’t give up.  I promised to the Saints.”

“You strike me as the kind of pony that takes those things very seriously,” Sir Steadfast said.  “I believe you.  Also, I wanted to talk to you about your choice of Knight Order.  It’s not a choice you have to make right away.  You are completely sure about the Knights Radiant?”

“Yes, I am, sir,” Emberglow nodded.

“I’m glad that you have convictions.  It’s just that you have the mind of a scholar.  You are a brilliant young pony, and you have a drive and determination to gain knowledge.  These are all things Saint Twilight looks for in her Knights, as well.  While I’m not asking or telling you to change your mind, I would like you to at least consider joining the Knights Mystic when you finish your training.  Honestly consider it.”

“I… I can do that, sir,” she replied.

“Good,” he said, then paused, considering something thoughtfully.  “There is one other matter.  A curiosity, really, but something you might find interesting.  When I looked up your school files I found the registered image of your cutie mark.  I brought up something I’d like you to see.”  He reached for a manila file folder on his desk, then hesitated a moment.  “Now, I don’t wish to shock you.  It’s from the Golden Age of the Saints.  I don’t know if you learned this in school, but it comes from a time when most ponies didn’t wear clothing all the time.  Even the Saints, with perhaps the occasional exception of Saint Rarity, usually went around their business unclad.”

“I remember, sir.  I’ve seen some of the photographs in school.  And besides, the statues of the Saints are always unclad.”

“That they are,” Sir Steadfast said with a chuckle.  He unfolded the folder, opening it up to reveal a facsimile of an ancient photograph.  Emberglow leaned over the desk to get a better look.

The picture was clearly of a hospital room; there were two beds, though only one was fully visible; the other was mostly hidden behind a curtain.  The bed had one occupant; in fact, she was the only pony in the room that was wearing clothing.  It was Saint Rainbow Dash, and one of the pegasus’ wings was bound with bandages.  There were four other ponies in the room; three earth ponies, and another pegasus.  Emberglow recognized Saint Twilight, Saint Rarity, and Saint Fluttershy, but the third earth pony was unknown to her.  It was hard to tell from the black and white photograph, but the mare clearly had white fur, and a light colored mane.  She wore a hat, with her mane tied behind it in a bun.  The most remarkable thing, however, was that the pony’s cutie mark was remarkably similar to Emberglow’s.

“Now, you know that each of the Holy Orders has their own more detailed accounts of the lives of the Saints.  I spoke with some friends of mine over in the Knights Adamant.  It seems they tell lots of legends about this pony here,” Sir Steadfast pointed at the mystery mare with his hoof.  “Quite often, Saint Rainbow’s energy and exuberance led her to injury.  The pony most likely to try and patch her up after one of her injuries was this mare here, an earth pony by the name of Nurse Redheart.”

“That’s…” Emberglow began.  “Her cutie mark.  It’s just like mine!”

“Not exact, but very close, yes.  In color, it was red, with four hearts at the corner of the cross in addition to the one in the middle.  Yours is a different color, of course, and lacks the corner hearts.  But it is very similar,” Sir Steadfast explained.  “We know that no two ponies will ever have the exact same cutie mark.  But I’ve always wondered if similar cutie marks suggested a connection.  We are each of us reborn when we die, as you know.  And though it is a sin to claim to have been reborn from a particular pony in the past, it is not a sin to speculate, hm?”

“You’re suggesting that I might be reborn from a hero?  From the medical pony who treated Saint Rainbow Dash?”

“Maybe.  And Nurse Redheart treated all the Saints, not just Saint Rainbow.  She just treated Saint Rainbow more often than the others.”  

“Wow…”

“Now we’re just speculating,” Sir Steadfast said, waving his hoof.  “But I for one don’t believe in too many coincidences.  Emberglow, I am quite impressed with you.  Not because of where you might have come from, even though it’s interesting to consider, but because of who you are now.  I believe I am going to sponsor you, young lady.  Is there anything else I should know about before I sign the papers that will put you in Knight Training in three years?”

This was the question Emberglow had been dreading.  She glanced at the door to the small waiting area, where her father was.  Her ears were splayed back against her head.

“Um… yeah.  I mean, yes sir, one thing,” she began, taking in a shuddering breath.

“If you’re concerned about your father overhearing, don’t be.  I’ve placed a small privacy enchantment on my office.  Once the door is closed, nopony outside can hear us.”

“Sir, I’m homosexual,” Emberglow said in a quick exhale.  She waited for the condemnation, the scowling or accusing eyes, but Sir Steadfast’s face remained passive.

“You don’t act on those urges?” he asked softly.  She shook her head.  “You’ve told your Confessor?”

“I spoke with her a bit vaguely,” Emberglow admitted.  “She told me being born this way wasn’t a sin, as long as a pony didn’t act on it.  I researched some meditation techniques.  I use them whenever I feel tempted.”

“If you have as good a handle on this as it seems you do, then it is none of my concern.  I’ll be signing the papers as soon as you leave.”

“Yes, sir!  Thank you, sir!”

“Don’t get so excited just yet.  You don’t start for three years.  And,” he shook a hoof at her.  “I’m going to want to meet with you a few times a year, to make sure you’re still progressing towards your goals, and to see how you’re doing in med school.  Besides, I need more chances to show you the glory of being a Knight Mystic.  I might convince you yet,” he laughed at that last, reaching out to collect the photograph of the Saints and Nurse Redheart, and closing up the manila folder.  “Now, let’s go tell your father the good news.”

“Yes sir!” Emberglow said, bouncing to her hooves.  She did a little dance, tapping her hooves against the floor in her unrestrained joy.  He grinned at her, and opened the door into the lobby where her father and Sir Steadfast’s squire waited.

“You have an incredible daughter, Mr. Textile.  And she’s going to become a Knight.  You should be quite proud of her,” he said.

Textile had stood when Sir Steadfast had entered the room, but now he was beaming, grinning from ear to ear as his daughter rushed to him.

“Dad, he said yes.  He said yes!” she squealed with filly-like joy.  Textile laughed as he hugged his daughter.

“Thank you, sir.  You’ve no idea what this means to her, and to us.”

“She earned it, and is going to keep earning it over the next three years.”  The second part came out like a command.  Emberglow leaned away from her embrace with her father and nodded.

“Yes, sir!” she shouted again.  Even the squire was grinning at her enthusiasm.  “Thank you again, sir!”

“Good luck with the beginning of your medical schooling.  I’ll have my squire send you a letter when I’d like to meet next.  Good day, both of you.”  It was a clear but polite dismissal.  Emberglow and Textile left the office, heading back for the stairs.  Emberglow was prancing.

“He wants to meet with you again?” Textile asked.

“Yep.  A few times a year, he said.  To make sure I’m still progressing towards my goals,” she said.  Then her nose crinkled with distaste.  “He also says he’s gonna try to convince me to join the Knights Mystic instead of the Knights Radiant.”

“I see what you thought of that idea,” Textile said, amused.  Emberglow shook her head.

“It’s not a bad idea, and I told him I’d consider it.  He was very nice, he told me I had the scholarship to be a Mystic.  I’ll consider it, really.  I don’t think I’ll change my mind, though.”

“You can be a stubborn little pony sometimes,” her father agreed.  She eyed him, wondering if he was teasing her.  After a moment of thought, Emberglow concluded that she just didn’t care.  It was too good a day.

Just watching Emberglow bounce and prance on the way home made Textile feel exhausted.  He couldn’t remember what it felt like to be that young and have that much energy.  She insisted on a stop at their local cathedral to say a quick thank you to both Saint Rarity and Saint Twilight, but didn’t take too long to stay and pray.  She wanted to get home and share the good news with her mother.

Outside the shop next door to theirs was a large wagon full of crates.  Three burly earth ponies were unloading the crates while an older pony sat outside on a beautiful wooden rocking chair, giving directions.  The older earth pony was tan, with a darker brown mane streaked with grey.  He waved when he saw them approaching.

“Mr. Textile, hello,” he called out.  His voice was a little different; Emberglow could hear he had an accent.  It sounded like he was from one of the far northern Equestrian towns.  “This is your daughter, yes?”  He rose to his hooves with a slight groan, and walked over to shake Textile’s outstretched hoof.  “I am Oak Chips. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Emberglow,” she introduced herself as she shook Oak Chips' offered hoof.  “You’re just moving in?”

“Yes, my things finally arrived.  I would help, but my doctor says no.  Bad back.  Psht, what does that quack know?  I was lifting boxes before he was out of diapers!  And foals and grandfoals, too!  Doctors!”  He made the word a curse, and Emberglow was worried for a moment.

“Emberglow here is about to start medical school next week,” Textile said gently.  The shift in gears was as obvious as it was fast.

“And you will be the best one alive!” the old pony declared, thumping a hoof against the street.  “HEY!  MOVER PONY!  THAT BOX IS BEDROOM, NOT STOREFRONT!  READ LABEL!”  He sighed, rubbing his forehead with one hoof.  “They are good boys.  Don’t dent any of my furniture, work hard, very helpful, yes?  Only dumb some of the time.”  That last was said so the mover pony in question could hear; he just rolled his eyes and kept moving boxes into the store.  “So, doctor?  You are young, too little for medical school.  Ah, but your father says you are a genius.  So that makes sense.”

“I’m not actually gonna become a regular doctor.  I just got accepted for a Knight sponsorship when I’m done with med school!  I’m gonna join the Knights Radiant!” Emberglow said, bouncing from hoof to hoof.

“Just today?” Oak Chips asked.  Emberglow nodded.  “Wait here.”  The old pony retreated into his shop.  Emberglow looked at her father quizzically, but Textile shrugged.  He reemerged a few moments later with a small box.

“I know you are not a foal, so think of them not as toys, but as good luck charm, yes?  Or paperweights.”  He held the box out to Emberglow, and she took it, curiously opening the lid.

Inside, packed in padding, were two carved wooden pony figurines.  Both of them were lavishly detailed, though unpainted.  Emberglow could see the care and detail that went into the manes, tails, and faces of each of the figures.  One of the two was a pegasus, wearing Knight Armor.  The other was a unicorn.  

“Because a hero needs a villain to fight, yes?” Oak Chips said when Emberglow looked at the unicorn figurine questioningly.  That made sense.  “You can paint them if you like.  Or leave them as is.  I always liked how the wood grain looks in my carvings.”  Indeed, Oak Chips had selected blocks of wood for these figurines specifically to make use of the multi-colored wood grain within each block.  It was beautiful; Emberglow didn’t think she could bear to paint either one of them.  She was about to refuse politely; not that she didn’t appreciate the gift, but she could tell that hours of work had gone into each hoof-carved figure.  There was a stern, unyielding sort of look in Oak Chips eyes when she opened her mouth to speak, however, so she changed what she was going to say.  It was as if the older stallion had read her mind.

“Thank you so much.  They’re gorgeous; you carved them?”

“Psht, it’s nothing.  I’m retired, I love to carve.  If I sell, I sell.  If I don’t sell, I have savings,”  Oak Chips said with an uncaring hoof wave.  “I retired two years ago, and I nearly died of boredom.  So, silly carving shop.  It’s nothing,” he repeated.

“Well, thank you so much,” she said.  “It’s very kind of you.”

“Bah.  Now you go tell your mother your news.  Unless you want to haul boxes?”

“We’re just about done here, Mr. Oak Chips,” one of the mover ponies chimed in.

“Yeah, we better get home,” Emberglow said.  “But I can come by later to help you unpack…” She felt like she had to repay him for his gift.

“You are a smart and kind young filly.  No, I will unpack.  I am very particular.  Spend the day celebrating with your mother.  I will see you around,” Oak Chips said.  He sat back down in the wooden chair.  “Do come by to visit whenever you like.  YOU THERE!  BOX IS BREAKING!  CAREFUL OR TOOLS WILL FALL OUT AND SQUASH YOUR HOOF!  AND BREAK TOOLS!  GAH!”

With a look at her father and a nervous little giggle, Emberglow left the old stallion to his packing, walking the few feet to the front door of their shop.  The tinkle of the bell hung above the door sounded like home.

“Mom, I did it!  He said yes!  I’m gonna be a Knight!” she shouted out as soon as she opened the door.  Only belatedly did she realize her mother was helping a customer.  “Oops.  Sorry, uh…”

The mare at the counter was being rung up by Needle Point.  There was a brown sack sitting on the counter next to her, and a stack of bits she was counting.  She looked over to the door, and Emberglow recognized the mare as Ms. Lavish Essence, the middle aged perfume seller who owned a shop six doors down, across the street.

“A Knight, miss Emberglow?  Congratulations!” Lavish said, her voice interested.  Emberglow tried not to roll her eyes; she had just blurted her big news to the neighborhood’s biggest gossip.  “We haven’t had a Knight from Emerald Street since Sweethoof joined the Jubilant twenty five years ago!  The girls are going to want to hear about this!  You’ll be the talk of the street, young miss!”

“Well, I don’t start training yet, not for three years,” Emberglow said bashfully, rubbing one hoof against the other, her ears back.

“Doesn’t matter, this is wonderful news.  I can’t wait to tell everybody!  Well done, Textile and Needle Point.  And well done Emberglow!”  The older mare finished counting out her bits, passing the coins over to Needle Point and rushing out of the shop.  Emberglow blushed at the raised eyebrows her mother was giving her.

“Any public embarrassment and fawning over you get from this is your own fault, missy.  Impulse control is never a bad thing,” Needle Point teased, grinning.  “So he said yes?”

“Yes yes yes yes yes!” Emberglow said, bouncing on her hooves.  “He said yes!”

“Of course he did,” Needle Point said, her voice clear that there was never any doubt, at least for her.  Emberglow knew enough about her mother to know that she was good enough to hide her doubts when she needed to.  The thought brought up a dark memory, of the conversation she had overheard a few weeks ago.

“Mom?  Are you okay?” Emberglow asked, seriously.

“Of course I’m okay!  This is the best day ever!” Needle Point said, her voice breezy.  “We have to celebrate.  Textile, head down to the Dee Lights Bakery and get us some celebration food, it’s clearly cupcake time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Textile said smartly, with a silly little military-esque salute.

“I’ve just gotta put something away in my room, then I’ll be back down to help you with the shop, mom,” Emberglow said as she heard the tinkle of the bells at the front door, announcing her father’s departure.  Her mother nodded, and Emberglow rushed up the stairs to her bedroom.

Emberglow’s room was tiny, but just enough for her.  The door opened (just barely) and her father had installed several wall shelves to house Emberglow’s extensive book collection, because there was no room for a real bookshelf.  Most of the books were nonfiction; medical texts for her level of education, advanced textbooks from her last biology classes, that sort of thing.  There were a few silly foal books; mostly ones about various heroic Knights and their exploits.  Then there was Emberglow’s personal copy of the Book of the Saints, with her name engraved on the bottom right cover in gold leaf.  She could see the faded gold leaf at the edge of the pages, worn thinner and thinner over years of reading.  It was obvious which section got the most attention; the leaf was faded to nothing nearest the section of the Book that told stories of Saint Rarity’s life; her charity work in trying to clothe the world, her efforts to be a mother to all around her, even some of her adventures with the other five saints.  She was proud of all her books, but especially of that one.  Next to it on the shelf she placed her new figurines; the pegasus knight and the unicorn.

“I know he said you were the villain.  But I can’t help but feel a little sorry for you,” she said to the carved wood.  “I’ll call you Lucky Break.  Don’t tell anypony, brother,” she laughed a little at her own silliness.  “I love you.”
> Chapter 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 3



The Five Exalted Tenets of the Holy Equestrian Diarchy



One: The Diarchs, Celestia and Luna, did create all ponies, and commanded us to learn and grow.  They are our mothers.  Their names are sacred, only to be spoken aloud by the sanctified.



Two: As we grow in holiness, we grow closer to the Diarchs.  With each life lived well, we are reborn into a better situation.  With each life lived poorly, we step back on the path, but may always continue onward.



Three: Unicorns seek to elevate themselves along the path through blasphemous magics.  Only by accepting their role on the path, and refraining from magic, can they hope to be reborn into a better station.



Four: To be born as a pegasus is a gift.  Those who live well may be reborn with wings, one step closer to the Saints and the Diarchs.



Five: The Six Holy Saints are the closest to the Diarchs.  Ponies live their best lives through obedience to their words, and the words of their servants.  Even the earth ponies among them show how to make the most of our lives.


1109 AF, New Canterlot City

“Jogging again?  You are silly mare,” came a gruff accented voice from behind Emberglow as she stretched just outside her parent’s shop.

“Awake again?  You are silly old stallion,” Emberglow mimicked Oak Chips’ accent and smiled, turning to see the old pony sitting in his rocking chair outside his shop.  Oak Chips was already hard at work, turning a toaster sized chunk of wood into… something.  It looked vaguely canine to Emberglow.

“Bah.  When you get older, sleep is harder to find.  You should know that, doctor pony.  Also, why jogging?  Did you forget you have wings?”

“Pegasus ponies have to live in an earth pony world.  Besides, I’m not a doctor yet,” Emberglow protested, stretching her wings carefully, one at a time.

“A little bird told me you were graduating today,” Oak Chips said.

“Mom?”

“Yes, she did tell me, about four hours after Ms. Lavish came by with the news.” Oak Chips chuckled.  “That mare.  If she’s not gossiping she’s busy-bodying.  Thinks its ‘improper’ for me to be without a wife.  What do I want another wife for?  One was good enough.”

“Who’d she try to set you up with this time?” Emberglow asked her friend.  Oak Chips snorted.

“Her aunt.  Nice enough pony, but I am not lonely.  I have friends.  Good neighbors.  Even a silly mare that thinks four thirty AM is good jogging time that says ‘hi’ to me.  Don’t need another wife.”

“You old grump.  You and I both know you wake up early just so you can tease me for jogging,” Emberglow said.  Oak Chips rolled his eyes, gently scraping his knife over the soft wood.  “What are you making?”

“Timberwolf.  There aren’t any left, only in stories.  Like a wolf, but made out of wood.  Had a taste for ponies,” Oak Chips said, a little too gleefully, snapping his jaws.  “Saint Applejack used to kick them.  BAM!  Timberwolf would explode, sticks flying everywhere.  Only sticks would reform into a timberwolf, and the wolf would run away, until it forgot how much it hurt to get kicked by Saint Applejack.  Then it would come back, just in time for… BAM!”  He slammed a hoof against the street for emphasis, laughing. 

“Well, I’m sure it’ll be great when you’re done.  See you when I get back!” she called out, taking off down the street.  Oak Chips waved to her, his eyes never leaving his work, though she could see his ears following her movement.

It had been three years since he had first moved in next door to her parents, and they had become fast friends.  It was an odd relationship to be sure; she was barely fifteen, and he was a retiree.  But Emberglow loved to hear the stories of Oak Chips’ life; growing up in Stalliongrad, getting married to the love of his life, his successful carpentry work, their two foals, seven grandfoals, and even his wife Yellowjacket dying of cancer, just five years before he retired.  Oak Chips had a way of making even the most mundane story interesting, at least to Emberglow’s mind.  It also helped that she had someone to speak with on her morning jogs; starting last year Textile’s joints had started misbehaving, and the family doctor had told him he shouldn’t jog any longer.  She missed her father on their morning expeditions, but she still loved to run.  It was now a time of solitude for her, and meditation.  Her life was about to change dramatically.

Emberglow set off on a taxing pace, running down the road in the early morning starlight.  The moon was full, bathing the empty street in silvery light, and the cool air, yet untouched by the sun, blew pleasantly over her fur.  There were a few lights in second and third story rooms, but no shops were open.  A few ponies in windows waved to Emberglow as she ran past; the entire neighborhood knew about her early morning exercise habits, and though she received a fair amount of ribbing about it, she could tell that the entire neighborhood was proud of her.  Like Lavish Essence had told her once, Emerald Street saw her as a mascot at this point; a pony with dreams and ambitions that they could all share, by proxy.  She wasn’t a noble pony, so her upcoming Knight training was rare.

She ran past shops and store fronts, her thoughts churning.  It was her last day as a med student.  Tomorrow she would be a graduate.  She was young, but she knew that if tomorrow she wanted to walk into a hospital, or a doctor’s office, she would be accepted as an intern, to begin her practical training as a doctor.  She would have a fine career, making many times more bits than her parents.  She could even settle down, and make a family… well, that was less possible.  

One of her confessors, back when she had first realized who she was, and who she was attracted to, had suggested that there were ways to ‘cure’ homosexuality.  It didn’t seem likely to her; the Saints had made her this way, after all.  It was a test, a trial she had to overcome, and not something that could be ‘cured’.  Besides, a family and foals were not her future.  Nor was a doctor’s coat, a family practice, or even a hospital.  Emberglow was destined for greater things, and she knew it.

Just as she’d promised, Emberglow had kept meeting with Sir Steadfast.  The older Knight had been a mentor to her, giving suggestions to her exercise program, and even serving as a pressure valve when medical school had turned out to be more difficult than she had imagined.  His constant support, and that of her parents, had been invaluable.  There had been pride in his eyes last week when she had personally hoof-delivered the announcement of her graduation to his office, at the inquisition building.  

Textile and Needle Point, obviously, were beside themselves with worry.  During her medical training, she had lived at home.  Though it had been a bit of a trial not to have Emberglow helping in the store as much, her parents had managed just fine.  With Knight training, however, she would be moving out of the house and staying at the same dorms with all of the other pages.  It would be the first time Emberglow had been out of her home for any significant length of time, and it would last for eighteen months.  Pages still had one weekend free every month, and she had promised them she would come home every single time, but that didn’t help the sense of dread, or the fear of separation, that cast shade over her excitement to be moving on with her goals.

She breathed slowly, bringing her thoughts back to the present. It was still intensely quiet, the staccato beats of her hooves against the paved street the only noise in the otherwise deserted section of her jog.  Emberglow reveled in the solitude; she felt absolutely comfortable accompanied only by the sound of her own hoofsteps echoing off of the still-dark buildings around her.  

Her route would soon take her into the Everfree district, where the air was full of sounds of birds and insects.  She still favored the Everfree Cathedral over her local one; especially when it was dark and quiet, like now.   Three years of grueling medical school, filled mostly with ponies who were at least four years older than her, had done nothing to help Emberglow make friends her own age.  She preferred it that way; she was friends with Oak Chips, and with her parents, she supposed, but she didn’t feel like she needed much more than that.  She guessed that made her a bit of an introvert.

The Everfree Cathedral was empty of ponies, as she had suspected.  The gardeners had put out fresh birdseed, though, so several of the local avian population were flitting about, chattering at each other as only early morning birds did.  Several of them complained loudly at her arrival, but soon went back to their own gossip as they made liberal use of the offerings spread throughout the outside of the open air structure.  There were even a few birds that had landed on the statue of Saint Fluttershy, though Emberglow couldn’t understand why; there was no birdseed on the statue, only the usual white cloth draped over her eyes to hide her from the shame of her children.

The story was a sad one, and something that had always awakened a sort of pitying fascination in Emberglow. Saint Fluttershy had once had her own Holy Order — the Knights Angelic. But three centuries ago, the entire Order stood up and abandoned New Canterlot City, vowing to bring the entire Holy Equestrian Diarchy to its knees.  The former Holy Order now called itself the Knights Discordant.  

To this day, nopony knew why they had done it.  There had been no lead up, no warning, and no apparent reason.  There were rumors of a shadowy figure involved, somepony known only as the ‘Arch Heretic’, who supposedly had orchestrated the entire fall, but nopony knew anything about him, or what his motivations were, or if he even existed at all.  Ever since that day, however, statues of Saint Fluttershy had had their faces covered by a gentle white cloth, so the blessed Saint wouldn’t have to witness the shame of her children’s betrayal.  Emberglow had never seen the eyes of a Saint Fluttershy statue; she imagined the stone gaze would be somehow full of warmth and acceptance.

Emberglow came to a stop, as usual, right in front of Saint Rarity.  She offered her prayers to her favored saint, then moved on to each of the others in turn.  This was a morning ritual for her; a quiet moment of solitude before she threw herself into her studies.  She wouldn’t find much time for quiet in the dorms she’d be living in.  When she was done, she returned to the same path that, years ago, she and her father had run into Lady Ruby Berry on.  

Emberglow managed to do four miles in the time it used to take her to do one, as a younger foal.  She was quite proud of herself; she was already running as far as Squires were required to, and she wasn’t even a page yet.  When she was done with her four miles, tired and sweaty but feeling good, she cooled down with a gentle trot home.  

Her return trip took her down her home street, now with a few more lights on in the shops and houses as ponies began to wake for the morning.  Oak Chips was inside his shop when Emberglow passed by, but the two ponies waved at each other through the window before Emberglow continued on to her parent’s shop.  She pushed the door open with one hoof and inhaled deeply, breathing in the welcome scent of fresh coffee and baking cinnamon.

“I’m home!” she called out.

“Hi, honey!  We altered your dress for your graduation ceremony!” Her mother’s voice came from upstairs.  “It’s all ready for you, dear.  Just shower and have some breakfast.  Your father made cinnamon rolls.”

“Yay!” Emberglow cried back, rushing up the stairs to the bathroom.  A quick shower and a hop back to the middle floor and she was in the kitchen with her parents, sipping on her coffee (black, no sugar or cream; the way REAL ponies drink coffee) and munching her father’s cinnamon roll.  Her parents were happily chatting away about the graduation ceremony that would begin in just a few hours.  Emberglow knew they were proud; it shone through their every word and action.  She was happy that they were happy, but it didn’t seem like a huge deal for her, just another check mark in her ultimate list.  Maybe it would be more real when she was up on stage, accepting the diploma.  She swallowed her bite of pastry and washed it down with a sip of coffee, looking at her parent’s beaming faces as a worrisome thought crossed her mind.

“Um, Dad?  Mom?” she began hesitantly.  Her parents, ever attuned to her moods, immediately stopped what they were doing and focused on her.  “Um, are you both going to be okay?”  She cringed; her words were failing her.  “I mean, I’ve never been gone for more than a day.  I’m not going to be at home any more, and that means you’ll be by yourselves, in the shop alone, and there’s so much to do and…” she was rambling, her concerns spilling out of her lips without filter.  Needle Point was shaking her head, and Textile rolled his eyes.

“Emberglow,” he said firmly.  “How many times have we had this same conversation?  Or some variant?”  

“Um…” Emberglow floundered.

“Needle?” Textile turned to his wife.  “What’s the count to now?”

“Nine, I think,” Needle Point said with a soft smile.  Emberglow’s eyes narrowed.

“I only remember two,” she muttered.  Her parents laughed.

“We’re counting all the times while you were studying medicine as well, dear,” Needle Point explained.  “Every couple of months you…” she paused, as if searching for the right word “...become rather anxious about whether or not we’ll be able to cope without you.  Emberglow, we’ve had several years to grow used to the idea.  Of course we’re worried.  Of course we’ll miss you.  We love you so much.  And part of that love means we’ll be proud as peacocks when you spread your wings and fly out of our little nest, okay?”

“Okay,” Emberglow murmured, blushing.  She did remember now; it was the same freak out every few months, almost like on a schedule.  “But…”

“No,” her father interrupted.  “Today’s a day for celebration, not worry.  Eat another cinnamon roll.  You can’t worry yourself silly if you’re eating a cinnamon roll.”  He held one up before her muzzle.  Emberglow rolled her eyes, but took the pastry anyways; he was right, after all, about all of it.  She let her father’s cooking and both her parents’ loving assurances calm her worries about moving out.

After breakfast, the small family left a sign at the front door and locked up for the day.  The chalkboard placard read ‘Closed for the day because OUR DAUGHTER’S GRADUATING FROM MEDICAL SCHOOL!’ with a frankly embarrassing number of exclamation points, and a few crudely drawn smiling pony faces that were supposed to represent the three of them.  They all left for the ceremony, which was being held at the Central Cathedral down near the middle of the city.  

The Central Cathedral was huge, far larger than any others.  The exterior’s vast walls of white stone were covered in frescoes of the most heroic martial achievements of the six saints.  There was Saint Twilight, with her freshly earned wings, facing off against the a mad rampaging centaur.  Another had Saint Rainbow, armed with a spear and shield, casting the bandit queen Gilda the Griffon out of Equestria; still another had Saint Fluttershy binding the God of Chaos in chains.  Emberglow’s favorite was Saint Rarity singlehoofedly defending herself against an army of nameless, bipedal canine horrors.  For today’s special ceremony, the exterior walls had been decorated with violet banners announcing the occasion.

Inside, the cheerful cacophony of happy graduates and their families echoed through the cathedral.  The interior was mostly a wide empty space that extended far above the ponies’ heads.  The cathedral had been built in a time when most buildings hadn’t had any sort of electric lighting, so all the light was natural, provided by huge windows on the sides of the building, as well as skylights in the roof far up above.  Streams of sunlight from the skylights drew Emberglow’s eyes to the centerpiece of the cathedral, the statues of the six Saints.  The statues were huge, so much larger than those in the Everfree Cathedral.  Each one was easily ten times the size of a pony; the cloth that covered Saint Fluttershy’s face was larger than a king size quilt.  

Today, a dozen temporary benches had been set up to make room for all the spectators coming to watch Emberglow and her classmates accept their diplomas.  The half-circle benches, always in place for the worship of supplicants, were reserved for the graduates themselves.

Emberglow gave her parents a quick goodbye and a nuzzle each before finding her own seat within the half-circle benches.  All around her, graduates clustered in small groups, chatting, giggling, and greeting friends.  Emberglow sat by herself, comfortable in her solitude.  

The speeches were predictable, and that made Emberglow smile.  ‘Chase your dreams, be the best you can be, represent your Alma Mater’, and so on.  Emberglow only half listened, a bit bored as she waited for her part in the ceremony.  Her gaze drifted over all of the other ponies around hers.  Each one of them was going on to an internship with an experienced doctor.  Her idle mind wandered a bit as she wondered about their futures: working in hospitals, in family practice, in emergency medicine, or maybe even in military medical service.  They were all paths she could have trod, if this were the limit of her ambition.

Most of the ponies around her, even though they were much older, were also shifting in their seats, adjusting their clothing, or fidgeting with the graduation ceremony’s paper program.  Eventually the school president moved on to announcing specific honors earned by various students.  Before long, it was her turn.

“This year, we have a graduate who has broken a very unique record at our school.  Today we recognize Emberglow, the very youngest medical school graduate we have ever hosted in our halls.”  The old stallion’s eyes sought out a widely grinning Emberglow in the crowd of graduates, and he motioned with his hoof.  “Congratulations, young pony.  You will do us all proud as you move on to the next stage of your life, which I understand is the Ivy Seminary and Knighthood.”

Finally it was time to walk across the stage.  Her name was called, and she stepped up onto a stage lit by bright spotlights.  Squinting a bit in the direct light, she trotted up towards the lines of robed ponies smiling at her and holding out their hooves to shake.  The school president, several instructors, and even some local dignitaries all offered whispered well-wishes.  Despite her earlier boredom, Emberglow found herself smiling so hard her cheeks were nearly sore.  When she reached the school president in the hoof-shaking line, he lifted a polished medallion, looped with red velvet.  It bore the asklepian, the image of a single snake curled around a rod, an ancient symbol of medicine that predated even the founding of the Diarchy. 

 As the school president slipped the medallion around her neck, she heard raucous cheering from a dozen or so ponies in the audience. She looked over and saw her parents, Oak Chips, and a hoof full of ponies from the neighborhood gathered to cheer her on.  She also saw Sir Steadfast sitting there, though with a slightly more subdued smile on his face. With a swell of pride, she waved and grinned at them all.  Emberglow felt like her name, practically glowing with pride.

“Ponies, look at your medallions,” the school president spoke again, after everypony had taken their seats.  “Notice the construction.  The velvet ribbon is violet, the color of our dear Saint Rarity, the bringer of healing and medicine.  The outside of the medallion polished surgical steel, while the inside is heavy pewter.  Look and remember the weight of your responsibility, and the bright, shining future in medicine that awaits you.”

Afterwards the small family gathered outside, and several neighbors clustered around her to offer congratulations and well wishes.  Sir Steadfast shook her hoof before begging their pardon to return to his Knight business.  Oak Chips pulled an ancient looking camera out of a battered velveteen case and insisted on taking the family’s photograph.  This was a new experience for the family; cameras were too expensive for everyday ponies to own.

“I’ll bring the photo over to you as soon as I get it developed,” Oak Chips promised, before leaving himself, letting Emberglow and her parents share some time together by themselves.  They walked slowly, not minding the extra time as Emberglow’s parents heaped praises on their daughter.

Her parents continued to gush over her graduation as the three of them made their way home.  Emberglow accepted their attention with as much embarrassed grace as she could.  As they passed in front of the Hall of the Upright, the headquarters of the Knights Vigilant, their joyous family moment was interrupted by the commotion of a crowd.  They very nearly ignored it and continued on their way; the big city was always experiencing some sort of commotion or event.  All three ponies froze, however, when a sudden scream of pain broke over the sound of the crowd.  

The plaza directly in front of the austere stone-façade building was usually reserved for public punishment of lawbreakers, and today was no exception.  A crowd was already gathering around a half dozen Knights Vigilant wearing their full, polished orange armor with the sign of Saint Applejack on the flank, standing guard over four ponies in brown robes.  The ponies were bound with chains at all four hooves, connected by a shorter chain, and another oppressive iron collar around each of their necks.  One of the four was on the ground, whimpering in pain as a stern-looking Vigilant stood over her, holding a truncheon.

One by one, the prisoners, three mares and a stallion, were dragged to a collection of wooden pillory that sat in front of the Hall of the Upright.  Each pony wore a rough, uncomfortable looking brown robe and a placard announcing their crime.  When the first mare reached the pillory, she was unlocked from her chains and shoved, unresisting, into one of the pillory.

“Prisoner Harpsichord.  You have pled guilty to fraud.  Your sentence is four days in the pillory; after which you will be released and banished from New Canterlot City.”  The Knight slammed down the heavy wooden top piece, locking the mare’s head and forehooves into an uncomfortable bent position.  Her head was hung in shame, and her eyes were closed.  The second prisoner was dragged into place.

“Prisoner Rosepetal.  You have been found guilty of homosexual acts.  Your sentence is one week in the pillory, after which you will be whipped with twenty lashes, then banished from New Canterlot City.”  The mare nodded once right before being locked into the pillory herself.  Emberglow could see the tears on her cheeks.  The third mare was not nearly as cooperative, as two Knights had to drag her to the pillory.  Her muffled screams of rage filtered through the muzzle the Knights had placed on her.

“Prisoner Nine Leaves.  You have been found guilty of heresy, and acts of depravity with a non-pony creature.  Your sentence is one day in the pillory, after which you will be put to death.”  This was the mare who had screamed; there was more than one bruise showing the results of her resistance.  She wouldn’t submit to have her head shoved into the pillory; it took two of the Knights holding her in place, and another grabbing her cruelly by the mane and dragging her head down so they could enclose her into the torture device.  Finally the fourth prisoner, the stallion, was brought forward to the pillory.

“Prisoner Grey Gull.  You have confessed to homosexual acts.  Your sentence is four days in the pillory, after which you will be whipped with fifteen lashes.”  Unlike the prisoner before him, Grey Gull allowed the Knights to place him in the pillory.  With a loud thump, the final pillory closed around the prisoner, and some of the observing crowd began to disperse.

Emberglow was horrified, and riveted in place.  Nothing else could have killed her mood so effectively.  Her parents, who had also stopped, shook their heads silently as Needle Point motioned for the family to go on their way.  The mood was somber.

“Why do ponies do that?” Emberglow asked softly, after walking in silence for a while.  Her mother looked at her in surprise, then sighed.  “I mean, why can’t ponies just…” she trailed off, frustrated.  There was no way she could put her real questions to words.  Not in front of her parents, at least.

“I don’t know, sweetie.”

“If we could all just listen to the Saints,” Emberglow mused,  “none of this would ever happen.”

“Remember the Saints gave us choice, sweetie.  A choice doesn’t mean anything if it’s forced; temptation and sin exists so that we can choose not to indulge,” her mom responded.  “Those ponies made poor choices.”

“But some ponies are born homosexual, right?” Emberglow asked carefully.  “At least, that’s what the confessors say.  Are they basically cursed to be sinners?  Where’s their choice?”

“Only the Saints know all the answers, Emberglow.  But ponies always have the choice to act, even if they are born one way or another.  And it’s the choice that is either righteous or sinful.”

“Right…” Emberglow whispered.  She took a deep breath, trying to force her mind away from her thoughts.  “Let’s… let’s talk about something else.  I don’t wanna think about it right now.”

“Me neither,” Textile agreed, with a somewhat strained, upbeat tone.  “I’d rather be talking about you and your graduation anyways.  Leave the theology to the Knights and confessors.”

“We have to have a party tonight, a huge one,” Needle Point said, taking the subject change and running with it.  “After all, soon you’ll be living in the page’s dorms, and we’ll only see you once a month.  We have to really make the most of it; live it up while we still have you to spoil!”

“Mom, really…” Emberglow said, both embarrassed and pleased.  The conversation still weighed on her mind, and she could tell it was on her parents’ as well, but she could pretend if they could.  “I don’t need a huge party.  Besides, it’s Wednesday night.  We have to attend Liturgy.”

“Psht.  I’ll be the laughingstock of the neighborhood if I don’t throw you something big.  Everypony on the street’s probably going to stop by tonight after services at the cathedral.  You’re famous.”

“You know, in a one-block radius,” Textile teased, and Emberglow laughed.  She could set aside her spiritual questions for at least one night.  It wasn’t every day that she got to be a local celebrity, after all.

Every Wednesday evening was the Liturgy, in which every pony would gather to one of the nearest cathedrals as an act of public worship.  It was not optional; refusing to attend would result in fines, and possibly investigations into the reasoning behind a pony’s absence.  Injured, sick, or aged ponies could of course be given a doctor’s note for absence, and there were certain other exceptions as well, such as emergency response ponies like firefighters and EMTs.

Like all of the other good ponies of the Diarchy, Emberglow’s family attended Liturgy at their local cathedral.  Though she preferred personal worship at the Everfree building, attendance was taken at the Wednesday meeting so she had to go to their nearest building, a stale structure when compared to her favorite green, garden themed place of worship.  You needed a special dispensation to attend a cathedral for Liturgy other than the one you were assigned, after all, and nopony was issued a dispensation just because they liked the décor at the next cathedral over a little better.

Everypony always wore their best to Liturgy; confessors often taught that it was a sign of respect and reverence for the Saints.  Usually that meant changing into her birthday dress, but Emberglow had already worn that for her graduation, so she didn’t have to change.  The family shared a quick snack of oatmeal with dried strawberries before heading off to the cathedral.

All of their neighbors were leaving at around the same time, and several of the ponies that lived and worked near Emberglow’s parents’ shop came by to offer their congratulations to the young graduate.  Dozens of colorful ponies, all dressed in their Liturgy best, were chatting and greeting each other on their way to the cathedral.

The local building was practical, at least, if not decorative.  Most cathedrals in New Canterlot City were at least a little rote in their architecture; as neighborhoods had expanded, the confessors had become more interested in filling the needs of growing populations than in making unique and decorative cathedrals.  It was constructed of brick and mortar, with a yellow shingle roof.  Every time she saw it, Emberglow was reminded how much more she enjoyed the Everfree cathedral over this cookie-cutter structure.  It felt antiseptic to her.

The senior confessor assigned to Ward 14 of the Merchant’s walk was June Leaves, an ancient earth pony mare who liked to stand at the open door of her cathedral and greet each pony by name as they entered.  There was a twinkle in the mare’s green, wrinkled face as Emberglow and her family approached.

“Congratulations, young lady,” the confessor said, reaching out to ruffle Emberglow’s red mane.  “We’re all so proud of you.”  She reached out and shook hooves with Emberglow’s parents.  “Textile, Needle Point, congratulations to you two as well.  Welcome.”

The family made their way into the cathedral and found a spot among the half-circle benches that sat in the center.  Emberglow’s eyes were drawn to the dark purple cloth draped over Saint Fluttershy’s eyes, before sitting on her padded bench to wait for June Leaves’ sermon.  As ponies shuffled into the seats around them, Emberglow saw the confessor make her way to the front of the room, underneath the gaze of the stone Saints.  She winked at Emberglow before clearing her throat, signaling silence to her congregation.  Two of the younger confessors, seated on benches behind June Leaves, rose to roll over the mobile podium that the older confessor mare used to lean against and organize her notes while she gave her speech.  A large print edition of the Book of the Saints, particularly suited for older eyes such as June Leaves’, had been opened beforehand to a passage somewhere in the middle of the book.  June Leaves stood silently as the murmurs of the congregation slowed from roar to a hushed smattering of whispers.  As soon as she knew her voice would carry over the congregation, June Leaves opened her mouth.

“Tonight I’m going to talk to you about a tightrope act,” June Leaves began, her voice deceptively strong for her advanced age.  “I’m sure many ponies here have seen acrobats walking a tightrope.  It’s pretty impressive, isn’t it?  Especially if they’re really high up without a net.  Especially for those of us without wings.”  She waggled a hoof in Emberglow’s direction with a grin, and the audience chuckled a bit.  Emberglow knew she was one of only about ten or so pegasi in the entire congregation of a hundred.  “It must take an incredible amount of training, skill, and luck to remain upright on one of those ropes.  Imagine the courage.  Imagine the risk.  I’m afraid of heights, I know a lot of other earth ponies are too.  I hate airships.”  More laughter rose from the audience.

“But I want to talk about another kind of tightrope walk.  A kind of walk we trot down nearly every day of our lives.  And while a fall off of this tightrope might not kill you, its consequences may be even more dire.  Tonight, we’re going to talk about pride.

“What would you ponies say pride is?  A sense of pleasure, or satisfaction in our own accomplishments, or the accomplishments of others?  Maybe a sense of rightness, feelings of justification in the correctness of one’s beliefs or actions?  Or maybe it’s a sin.  Perhaps the most grievous sin of all.

“I believe it is all of these things, and that is why pride is a tightrope walk.  You see, there isn’t anything wrong with being proud of our victories, our successes, or triumphs, is there?”  June Leaves paused for a moment, waiting for her parishioners to think over her rhetorical question.  “But pride doesn’t limit itself to our justly earned success.  Pride is a cliff.  A canyon.  It can so easily separate us from the love of the Saints, if we let it.

“You see, when we feel pride, we feel full of ourselves.  We feel right, we feel entitled, and we can feel like our way is maybe even better than the Saints’ ways.  ‘Why should I read from the Book of the Saints? I know better than some old ponies dead for centuries,’ you might say.  When we question, even subconsciously, the will of the Saints in our lives, when we allow our own opinions or thoughts to supplant what is written in holy word, our lives and our destinies spiral out of control.  This is when pride damns us.  Pride is enmity, a gulf that drags us away from the love of the Diarchs and their true servants, the Six.

“Does this mean that it is sinful to feel pride in what we have accomplished?  When we have overcome great obstacles, climbed great mountains both literal and metaphorical, can we not stop to take pleasure in our victory?  My little ponies, this is the tightrope we must walk.  There is a way to take joy in our wins.  It is through our gratitude and worship of the Saints.”

Emberglow couldn’t take her eyes off of June Leaves.  There was a cadence and rhythm to her voice that sucked in her listeners, and the young mare was no exception.  There were a few moments in the sermon, though, when Emberglow knew the Confessor was speaking directly to her.  It wasn’t really that subtle; June Leaves had clearly had the young student’s recent graduation in mind when she had written her sermon.  But she didn’t feel singled out; no, she was enraptured.  Emberglow knew that the confessor was inspired.  Whatever the older mare was speaking about was surely a message from the Saints directly for her.

“Ponies, you are nothing.  You are worthless, you are dirt.  Your accomplishments, your victories, on their own, are meaningless, lost the moment you step into the grave.  Everything you have ever done, everything you have ever achieved, was a gift from the Diarchs, through the Saints themselves.  Your shop is not successful because of you, it is because Saint Applejack recognized your hard work and honesty and decided to bless you.  Your health isn’t a result of your diet or exercise, it’s because Saint Rarity decided to ward you from the ravages of illness.  Your children aren’t well behaved and beautiful because of your brilliant parenting tactics, they are that way because Saint Twilight decided to bless them with intelligence and maturity.  The second we take credit for the gifts the Saints have given us, the second we take pride in ourselves, rather than gratitude in the grace of the Saints, we have separated ourselves from them.

“And that, my little ponies, leads to a place nopony wants to be.  Let’s go to the scriptures.”  The large print Book of the Saints was already open at Confessor June’s pedestal, but Emberglow heard several of the other ponies in the congregation flip open their own copies of the Book of the Saints.  Needle Point and Emberglow retrieved their own copies, while Textile preferred to merely listen.  “Those of you following along in your own books, turn to The Word, chapter twenty, verse fifteen through seventeen.”  She paused enough that everypony could hear the rustling of turning pages.  “’The hooves of the Diarchs ever reach for their ponies, extended in mercy and love.  The Sun in the daytime, and the Moon in the night, radiate their love.  But ponies are cruel, ignorant, and hateful, and reject the freely offered gifts of the divine’.”  She looked up from her book and gazed over her congregation.  “Seems silly, doesn’t it?  Ponies, in their arrogance, rejecting the gifts of the divine?  But it happens every day.  The unicorns do it with their very existence.   The Northern Empire does it with their barrier.  The griffons, zebra, dragons, and other non-pony races do it with their unending aggression and raids.  And we do it, every day, with our sinful pride.”

The emotion of guilt, as Emberglow had been taught, was a divine gift.  A force for change, for improvement.  For a pony such as her, a pony who had dedicated all of her teenaged energy and effort into self-improvement and perfectionism, guilt was a constant companion. She was never quite good enough, never quite smart enough, or perfect enough, or accomplished enough.  As Confessor June Leaves continued her sermon, Emberglow’s mind began to gallop in circles.  It was obvious that the wise Confessor had been inspired to write her sermon by Emberglow’s graduation.  Was it just convenient timing?  Or were the Saints trying to send her a message?  Was she becoming too proud of her own accomplishments?

That had to be the message she was receiving from the Saints.  She looked up at the five uncovered faces, particularly the stern visage of Saint Twilight, and silently vowed that she wouldn’t let her own accomplishments or victories come between her and the will of the Saints.  She embraced her guilt, allowing it to mold and shape her into whatever the Saints had intended. Emberglow knew that some of her hardest challenges were coming ahead, and only with the strength of the Six would she be able to overcome them, not her own talents or willpower.
> Chapter 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 4


Document found in the Knights Mystic archives, dated 133 AF.  Contents secret; access without permission to be considered heresy.

	I write this today with full knowledge that nopony besides the pontiffs that follow me will ever read my hidden journal.  This is fine; I write this at the wishes of my great grandmother.  My name is Faith Unrelenting, and I am the third pontiff of the Holy Equestrian Diarchy.  This record will be written and sealed, per my orders, in the deepest vault of the Diarchy.  My journal shall be available to all pontiffs, and any pony they deem fit for this information, until the end of time.  In it, I shall account the beginnings of the Diarchy, and various details of its history.  I do this at the behest of its first Pontiff, my great grandmother.  She even told me to write this introduction.  “One day,” she said, “Somepony is going to need to read this.”  Though she was perhaps unnecessarily vague, I do as she asked.

	My great grandmother, the First Pontiff, erased her name from history when she first ascended to her role.  Though she had contemporaries who remembered her name, she refused to allow it to be written down in any official Diarchy communication or history.  To this day, the Diarchy’s naysayers and detractors still remember her name, but as the Diarchy fills the earth, the First Pontiff’s true identity will fade from memory.  She did this, in her own words, to ‘ensure that it is my work, not my identity, which is glorified.  Let them remember the holy things I set in motion, not who I am.’  In another two hundred years, nopony will remember her name, but for eternity we will remember her deeds.  Her last missive to me, however, contained the instructions to make this journal, and share it with my successor.  At the very least future Pontiffs will know the holy name of our founder, Cozy Glow.

1109 AF, Ivy Seminary, New Canterlot City

The laundry room of the pages’ dormitory was made of unfinished concrete floors, with unpainted drywall ceilings.  The smell of detergent and faint mildew permeated the room, the seemingly permanent odor having been built up over the years.  Generations of pages, training for Knighthood, had washed their uniforms and bedding in this very room. 

This fact failed to be very impressive for Emberglow, though — she was currently more impressed with the size of the basement sink, and its efficient water pressure.  It had been very useful for pre-washing whatever foul substance had been dumped into Emberglow’s sheets once (sometimes even twice or more) a week.  Today’s flavor was tree sap, spread throughout her sheets — though she was lucky nothing had been dumped in her spare robe drawer this time.

The sap was nearly impossible to wash out.  The hot water in the large sink, usually so helpful for mud, dirt, honey, or other foulness that had been rubbed into her sheets, was proving largely useless for the tree sap.  It stuck to her hooves when she tried to scrub it, and her efforts seemed to be only spreading the substance farther.  

Emberglow idly wondered at the amount of effort it would have taken to obtain this much tree sap; it seemed extreme for an immature prank.  She tried to stave off the urge to give up, wondering if she should simply inform the matron in charge of the cleaning staff.  There was precious little free time for pages, and it was becoming rather frustrating to have to use that free time to clean up after foalish pranks.  Surely she wouldn’t be blamed for what others had done to her bedding, right?  

She had long since dismissed that option from her mind, though.  She didn’t want to let them win.  If they knew they were getting to her, it would only get worse — Emberglow was sure of that.

She supposed she should have expected it.  Sir Steadfast had warned her that there would be bullying.  There were seventy nine pages at the facility, all training for Knighthood.  Only six of them were there due to sponsorships; the rest were from wealthy and noble families, with long traditions of serving as Knights.  Sponsorship ponies were treated as second class by the other students, less worthy than those who had been born to it. 

 It was fine, though.  Emberglow could handle it.  She was one of the best in her class, for most subjects.  Physically, she was far more prepared than those noble dandies.  Her mind was sharp, and her studies were progressing well.  She did struggle a bit at martial arts training, but with all her other skills, nopony among the faculty seemed to mind if she had at least one weakness.

Emberglow was fairly certain who the culprits were, even if she had no proof.  In the end, though, it didn’t really matter.  Ponies would be jealous.  It was simply a fact of life, and she had resigned herself to it.  Even the other sponsorship ponies kept their distance, as her tormentors seemed to have singled her out in particular for their cruel games.  To be honest, though, this suited Emberglow just fine.  She had never been driven to form close friendships with those her age.  After all, she still got to see her parents one weekend a month, and she would stop in to speak with Oak Chips, her friend, or Sir Steadfast, her mentor, whenever she could.

Another pony entered the laundry room, pulling her out from her thoughts.  He was an earth pony stallion, with light green fur and a black mane.  He was wearing the same light purple robes that she was; the robes of a page.  He entered casually, glancing at her, before setting down the basket of laundry he was carrying on his back.  There was a small bottle perched on top.  Emberglow recognized him from several of her classes, but she couldn’t remember his name.  She wasn’t sure she could remember most of her classmate’s names, actually; she supposed she’d never tried very hard.  She did know he wasn’t a sponsored pony, however.

“I had a chance to casually ask one of the cleaning staff their opinion,” the stallion said airily, seemingly addressing nopony.  “What is the best way to get tree sap out of cloth?”  The stallion had a strong tenor voice, which was a little impressive.  Many of the other stallion pages were still young enough that their voices were changing awkwardly.  Emberglow looked up from her task to eye him suspiciously.

“And?” she asked warily, wondering where this was going.

“Rubbing alcohol,” he said, taking the bottle from the top of his basket.  He set it on top of one of the washing machines near the sink she was using.  “If it’s a huge amount, they recommend freezing it and scraping it off with a butter knife first, but if it’s spread out, they said rubbing alcohol.”

Emberglow eyed it, and the stallion, cautiously.  She reached out a hoof to take hold of the bottle, but the stallion held out one of his own, sliding it away.

“Nope.  We’re going to make an exchange,” he said.  

Emberglow sighed, rolling her eyes.  “Some sort of quid pro quo?  Really?  Look, if this is some sort of lame come-on, you’re wasting your time.”  

The stallion laughed.  It was a genuine laugh, not the fake tittering she often heard behind her back when nopony thought she was listening.

“Your name.  That’s all I want,” the stallion said.  “It works like this.  Hi, my name is Lofty Tale.”  He held out his hoof.

“Emberglow,” Emberglow said, holding out her own to shake his.  Lofty Tale, eh?  The Tale family was one of those noble clans that had spanned generations, full of heroes and Knights.  Everypony who knew anything about history would have heard the story of Strange Tale, the Knight Adamant who had infiltrated the Free Zebra Republic to steal schematics and designs for the zebras’ devastating firearms.  He was still celebrated as a hero centuries afterward.  There were others as well; it was said that there had been Tales fighting for the Diarchy as far back as the Siege of Manehatten.  A name like his would command a lot of influence.

“Emberglow?  That’s a lovely name,” he said, sliding the bottle over to her.  She accepted it with a nod.

“How did you know I would need it?” she asked, trying to keep the accusation out of her voice.  He cringed a bit as he began moving his laundry into one of the nearby machines.

“I might have seen some ponies gathering the sap.  I didn’t even think about what they might be using it for at the time, or I would have tried to stop them.”

“Don’t bother,” Emberglow sighed.  “If not the sap, they would have found something else.”  She rinsed out the sponge she had been using, and picked up the bottle of rubbing alcohol, pouring a tiny amount on the sponge.  With her new tool, she vigorously attacked the sap.  While it wasn’t easy, it was working, with bits of the yellow gunk dissolving and sliding off the linens.

“Would you like me to stop them next time?” he asked, his voice earnest.  Emberglow paused in her efforts, thinking.  If a Tale told her tormentors to stop, they probably would.  Of course, then there would be assumptions, insinuations, snickered behind hooves hiding smirking mouths.

“No thank you,” she replied politely.  He nodded, as if expecting the answer.

“You’re very strong, Emberglow,” he said, and she gaped at him.  He smiled at her expression of surprise.  She smiled back, gratefully.  “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Sure,” Emberglow said.  This was all so strange, but Lofty Tale seemed nice.

“You haven’t made any friends here.  Why?” he asked.  Emberglow sighed.  She didn’t really want to answer that question.

“I’ve never needed tons of friends,” she said.  “It’s never been a real priority for me.  I’m really close to my parents, and I have a few friends back home, but nopony my own age.”

“Where is home for you?” Lofty Tale asked.

“Just a few blocks from here, actually.  My parents own a clothing shop on the Merchant’s Walk.”

“I’ll bet that’s really convenient for you on your weekends off,” he said.

“Well, not everypony has a carriage with servants to pull it to come take them home,” she shot back, before instantly regretting it.  “I’m sorry, Lofty Tale.  That was rude of me.”  

But Lofty Tale was laughing. “Please, just call me Lofty.  I don’t always need to be reminded about my family name; trust me, I remember what it is,” he said, laughing more.

“Is it hard?  Living up to your family name?” Emberglow asked.  Lofty shook his head, putting the last piece of his laundry into the washing machine and closing the door.  

“Nah, my story isn’t that kind of story.  Sure, my grandpa Righteous Tale likes to go on and on about ‘duty and name and family honor’ and blah blah blah, but I’ve never let it bother me much.  I have to be my own stallion, right?  I had to decide a long time ago if I was going to be a Knight for myself, or for my name.  I picked myself.”

Emberglow decided right then that she liked him.  He was confident, and knew what he wanted.  Lofty reminded her of herself.

“Honestly, that’s why I wanted to seek you out, and introduce myself.  You remind me of myself,” he continued, unconsciously mimicking her own thoughts.  “So, you know about my silly name.  Where does yours come from?”

“My parents couldn’t have foals at first,” she said.  “The doctors said it might be impossible, and there was no way they could afford fertility treatments.  When my mom got pregnant with me, they said it was a miracle.  It was a really hard pregnancy, and she almost lost me a couple of times.  When I was born, they named me Emberglow.  My mom said, ‘the fires of my hope for having a foal had nearly died, leaving nothing but glowing embers in their place.’”

“That’s beautiful.  Kinda poetic,” Lofty said with a nod, his eyes unfocused a bit.  “So much cooler than mine.  ‘Hey, let’s put all the adjectives we can think of that will work with the name ‘Tale’ in an impossibly fashionable hat then draw one at random.’”  

“That can’t be how your name was really picked,” Emberglow giggled, and Lofty laughed.

“No, not really, but it makes a fun story,” he admitted through his laughter.  She grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol and applied more to her sponge.  “ Is it working?” he asked.

“Better than water or soap, yes,” Emberglow said.  “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he replied.  “It seemed like a good idea for a friendship ice breaker, you know?  Originally I was going to try and rescue you from your bullies, but…” he trailed off.  Emberglow looked at him, surprised at the frank statement.  She was quiet for a moment, so he kept talking.  “You don’t seem like the type that really needs rescuing.”

“Thanks, I guess?” she said.  “So that’s what this is?  An attempt at friendship?”

“Well, I figure you’re safe.  One of the few ponies in here I can make friends with without any ulterior motives,” Lofty replied.  “There’s lots of ponies here that would see friendship with me as an accomplishment, some bauble to be acquired.”

“You’re incredibly honest, you know that?” Emberglow teased.  “Haven’t you ever heard of a filter?”

“I don’t think I need much of one with you.  Or am I wrong?” Lofty asked.

“No, you’re not,” she responded.  “So, we’re friends now?”  

Lofty grinned and nodded.  

“Friends that help each other scrub sap out of sheets?” Emberglow suggested.

He laughed, walking over to the sink.  “Sure, as long as you’re willing to help me with our rune magic test on Friday,” Lofty shot back as he grabbed another sponge, soaking it in alcohol and grabbing another section of the sheet.

“Oh, so now who’s got ulterior motives?” Emberglow said slyly, and Lofty shrugged.

“Why not?  You’re one of the best in the class.  At everything.”

“Not martial arts,” Emberglow corrected.

“That’s fine.  Maybe we can help each other.  You practice hitting me, and I’ll practice shielding myself with runes.  It’s a win-win.”

She squinted at him. “We haven’t even started practicing rune magic for real, Lofty.  How can you…?”

“Oh, hush.  I’m just being silly,” Lofty interrupted.  “You can help me with memorizing the runes in exchange, okay?”

“Deal,” Emberglow nodded.

The two ponies laughed and talked while they scrubbed the sap out of Emberglow’s sheets.  Once the task was done as well by hoof as it could possibly be, Emberglow shoved them into the washing machine next to Lofty Tale’s laundry, to be left until the day’s classes were finished.  They walked together out of the basement where the laundry room was held, and across the courtyard of the campus that held the dorms, several training fields, and classrooms for the pages. The whole time Emberglow was filled with warmth; she’d been here three months, and this was the first time she’d made a friend.  Lofty Tale was well spoken, intelligent, and genuine.  But maybe she might have to squash those hints that he may be flirting with her, just a bit.

The instructor for their next class, Diarchy History, was Sir Heavenseeker, an elderly pegasus who’d lost one of his wings decades ago in combat with some dragons.  Emberglow loved him; he was brilliant and passionate, and his lectures were always interesting.  His teaching style involved giving lectures and then asking thoughtful questions, and he had no problem letting a class stew in awkward silence as they tried to piece together what he was trying to teach them by the questions he was asking.  Emberglow really enjoyed that style of class.  There were no assigned seats; Emberglow usually found a desk near the front of the class.  This time she actually had a friend right next to her, and it filled her with unfamiliar and unexpected warmth.

“Today, we’re going to be talking about heresy,” Sir Heavenseeker pronounced, as soon as everypony was seated.  This was not unusual; many of the significant events in Diarchy History revolved around fighting against various heretics and heresies.  “Specifically, the three Great Heretics, and what lessons they teach us.  Diarchy doctrine is a living thing; the more enlightened we become, the more we learn about the Saints and what they desire of us.  And while the three Great Heresies were some of the most terrible tragedies in our history, they are also some of the greatest learning opportunities.  Let’s start with the First Heretic.  Somepony summarize him for us, and what he did.”

Several hooves shot into the air, including Emberglow’s.  Sir Heavenseeker pointed at an earth pony in the back of the classroom.  She stood to give her answer.

“The first heretic was Sombra, a unicorn who gave into his rage and jealousy and used his dark magic to attack the Northern Empire.  He was defeated by the six Saints, only to reemerge years later and corrupt the entire Empire.  That the Empire is now not a part of the Diarchy is directly the fault of Sombra and his actions.”

“Thank you, Green Fields.  Yes, that’s the short version of Sombra’s wickedness.  So what did we learn from the first heresy?  Don’t worry, there’s not really wrong answers.  Call some out.”

“Unicorns are dangerous!”

“Unicorns are corruptible; they can’t be trusted with power!”

“Unicorns use violence and death to accomplish their goals!”

“All of those things are true, but there’s a deeper lesson here.  Let me share with you a detail little-known outside of the Knighthood. In the second war against Sombra, were you aware that there were unicorns fighting alongside the Saints?” He paused a moment, taking in the stunned expressions on the faces of his students.  “Tell me, how does that change the lessons we learned from Sombra’s heresy?  Emberglow?”  Emberglow had raised her hoof.

“It doesn’t, sir.  Unicorns can make righteous choices; it is how they are able to be reborn into other better forms after death, just like we are.  But that doesn’t change how dangerous they are, or their need to be de-horned.”

“Well said, Emberglow,” the instructor nodded.  “Always remember, ponies, that as we grow closer to the Saints, we can continue to find insights even in stories we have heard a thousand times, like the three great heresies.  This leads us to the second great heresy.  Could somepony give us a summary…?  Highland Flowers, please.”  He pointed at a mare who had raised her hoof.  She stood up to address the class.

“The second heretic was Sunset Shimmer.  After the events of the first heresy, unicorns were separated from the rest of pony society, for our and their safety.  Only, Sunset Shimmer and her followers didn’t like that.  She led her dupes to occupy Manehatten, terrorizing its earth pony and pegasus inhabitants.  The Knights laid siege to the city and brought the second heretic back to New Canterlot for trial and execution.”  Following her recitation, Highland Flowers sat back down. 

“It may seem like the lessons of the Second Great Heresy are quite similar to the First,” Sir Heavenseeker mused.  “Anypony have any insight into how they might be different?  What more can we learn from the Second Great Heresy?”

This time ponies were silent for a moment, thinking about the question.  It did seem like the lessons were the same.  Sir Heavenseeker let his students think for a few minutes before speaking.  As usual, he didn’t give them the answer himself, instead adding more information to help them think it out themselves.

“I have heard the same tragic story a hundred times; a mother gives birth to a foal, only to find out that the foal is a unicorn.  The mare is heartbroken; how could the Saints have done this to her?  But instead of delivering the foal to the Knights Mystic, to be safely taken away to the relocation colonies and have its horn removed, the mare decides that maybe this once, maybe this one unicorn won’t be like the others.  How could this perfect, innocent foal turn out to be as dangerous as monsters like Sombra or Sunset Shimmer?

“It always ends badly.  Every time.  Maybe the foal gets to be a child.  Maybe he or she grows all the way into adulthood.  But there is always an incident, an injury, an accident, a death.  It is never worth it,” Sir Heavenseeker proclaimed, and there was a hitch of emotion in his voice.  The class hung on his words, silently watching him.  “It’s not worth it for the ponies nearby, and it’s certainly not worth it for the unicorn.  So what is the lesson we learn from the Second Great Heresy?”

“Unicorns… can’t live alongside ponies?” somepony in the back chimed in with hesitation.  Sir Heavenseeker nodded proudly.

“Just so, Candy Cane.  Unicorns cannot coexist with ponies.  It doesn’t work in the short term, and it certainly doesn’t work in the long run.”

“Sir, I have a question,” Emberglow asked, raising her hoof.  “If unicorns were never designed to coexist with ponies, how did things work before the time of the Saints?”

“That is an excellent question, Emberglow.  The short answer is, we don’t quite know.  There is a lack of literature from that time period, as you all are aware.  But we can speculate.  We know some unicorns used their magic for unholy purposes, such as tyranny and domination.  We also know some unicorns tried to live in peace.  But the Dark Ages were a time of terror and uncertainty, with great ponies, heroes and tyrants that we know nothing about.  But the coming of the Saints brought us the enlightenment we needed to begin living the way the Diarchs intended.”

“Any other questions?” Sir Heavenseeker asked.  Nopony raised their hooves.  “Then we come to the Third Great Heresy, the incident we know the least about.  Can I get a summary of that dark event?”

The room was quiet.  The First and Second Great Heresies were distant history, but the Third had occurred only three centuries ago.  Far beyond the lifespans of all ponies present, but still more recent than any of the other events.  For the entire Diarchy, it was an open wound; one that kept festering.

“Like you said, sir, it’s the incident we know the least about,” Emberglow spoke up finally.  “Um, the Knights Angelic walked out of New Canterlot City and declared themselves heretics.  They were led by the Arch Heretic, whom we know nothing about.  They changed their names to the Knights Discordant.  We… don’t really know why?”  The last sentence began as a statement, but became a question.

“Yes, Emberglow.  We know precious little about why the Angelic did what they did.  But we can still learn a lesson from their behavior, and we can speculate.  And while we may not know the exact reason, that speculation can still teach us a lesson.

“There are several ideas as to why the Angelic betrayed us.  Here are some thoughts.  Many historians and theologians have suggested that the Angelic’s very nature led them to fall.  They were messengers, scouts, and spies, especially to the outer reaches of the Diarchy, lands where the reach of the law is stretched and the authority of the Mystics and Vigilants are thin.  Generations of contact with undesirable elements, such as heretics, criminals, and mongrel races let small heresies begin to creep into the Angelic, a slow corruption that they hid from the Mystics for years.  They sympathized with those they should be working against, and it led to their fall.

“In this theory, the Arch Heretic doesn’t even need to be a literal historical figure who presaged the fall of the Angelic.  Rather, he becomes a symbol of corruption and heresy.

“A second notion is that of outsider interference.  Some theologians have suggested that not all the monstrous, immortal creatures of Tartarus were banished from reality by the Saints.  That one or more of them somehow escaped destruction, and it bided its time until it could strike back.  Taking the form of a pony, it slowly rose through the ranks of the Angelic, spreading corruption and evil on its way, until its plans came to fruition, and the Angelic fell.

“Either or both of these theories could be true, as could dozens of others historians have suggested over the years.  But they all lead to one lesson: even the holy can fall.  Earth ponies and pegasi may lack the corruption of horn magic, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be corrupted.  Always remember this: only through constant righteousness, obedience, and vigilance can you remain a pure vessel for the will of the Diarchs.”

Nopony said a word. Sir Heavenseeker seemed like he was on a roll, and he continued on with passionate momentum.

“Many of you, hopefully most of you, will become Knights.  Though it is primarily the duty of the Mystic and the Jubilant to maintain doctrinal purity and keep us safe from heresy, it is the responsibility of all Knights to be ever watchful, both of themselves and their fellow Knights.

“This also leads me to our last subject.  The ‘Day of Hope’.  Many Knights believe that the Discordant can be redeemed, or recovered.  I will not go so far as to call this idea heresy,” Sir Heavenseeker cautioned.  “But it often leads Knights to make foolish decisions.  The Discordant are not to be trusted.  Period.  They are consummate deceivers and manipulators.  Can somepony open their Book of the Saints to chapter twenty one, verse two?”

Several ponies grabbed their copies of the Book of the Saints, shuffling through to the second half of the books to find the requested verse.  This time, Lofty Tale’s hoof went into the air first, followed by several other ponies.  Heavenseeker called on Lofty, and the stallion read from his Book.

“’Beware the heretic’s bite; his teeth are hidden behind a sweet smile, but drip with lies and venom,’” Lofty read, his voice loud and confident.

“Perhaps some of you could have recalled that from memory,” Sir Heavenseeker said.  Several of the students nodded.  “That’s good.  It’s always useful to have a scripture verse handy to recite in your mind if you are tempted with impure thoughts or ideas.”

Sir Heavenseeker spent the rest of the class discussing the ways a Knight could be tempted, and various strategies for resisting said corruption.  It was a fascinating and useful conversation, and Emberglow was enjoying herself making comments and listening to the others.  That was, until the class ended, at least. As the ponies began to filter out of the classroom towards their next lesson, the voices of her tormentors rose behind her.

“Wouldn’t it be awful to be so poor that you have nothing to do all day but study?” a mare said, projecting her speech loudly enough for Emberglow to hear.  Emberglow suppressed a sigh.  “I’d just die of shame, if that was me.”

“It would be just disgusting,” said a second.  “I imagine the only joy you could possibly get in life is by hearing the sound of your own, insufferable know-it-all voice all day long.”

It was the same thing again.  Didn’t they realize just how cliché they sounded?  It was like bad dialogue out of a foal’s story.  Of course, it was all so cleverly vague; if she turned around and confronted them about it, they would cock their heads to the side, ears back, eyes sparkling with feigned innocence, and ask her oh so casually what the problem was.  They would keep pace with her, just behind so she could hear every venomous little word, until they reached the location for their next class, Martial Arts.  It was a bit of a walk, as today’s class was being held in a field on the far end of the campus, rather than at the usual gym.  This had been her life, every day for three months.

“It couldn’t be nearly as horrible as basing your self-worth on the misery of other ponies.  That would truly be hellish,” came a third voice loudly from behind the other two.  It was Lofty Tale.  “Hello, Green Fields.  Hello, Astrolabe.  I’m sorry, but your conversation was so loud I couldn’t help but overhear and chime in.”

“Not at all, Lofty Tale,” Green Fields simpered.  “You can say whatever you want to me.”

“Now correct me if I’m wrong, but it seemed as if you were speaking ill of the less fortunate,” Lofty said with affected innocence.  “It seems like such a poor use of your time.  I see no poor here, only ponies replete with talent, brains, and a great deal of determination to make the world a better place than they found it.”

“Well, yes, but…” Green Fields stammered.  Emberglow tried not to smile at the mare’s discomfort.  

“Unless you don’t want to support other ponies in making the world a better place.  But that would be incredibly silly, and certainly a violation of the will of the Saints.  Of course, you’re not like that at all, Miss Fields, and Miss Astrolabe.” Lofty said, his words running over her stammering.

“Of course not,” Green Fields replied nervously.

“Well, don’t be too slow.  I’ve heard something exciting is happening today in Martial Arts,” Lofty finished, hurrying his trot so he could keep pace with Emberglow.

“You realize you might have just made things worse?  Stirred the hornet’s nest?” Emberglow whispered softly, as the two walked side by side.  Unlike Green Fields and her various flunkies, she did not want her own conversations deliberately overheard.

“Maybe.  But I doubt it,” Lofty declared confidently.

Emberglow thought for a moment. “You’re probably right.”.  There had been nothing subtle about Green Field’s tone when she spoke with Lofty.  “Lust is a powerful motivator.”

“Lust?” Lofty asked, sounding confused.

“You haven’t noticed?  Let’s just say Ms. Fields knows exactly who she’d like to plow her fields.  So to speak.”

“Oh?” Lofty said, uncomprehending.  “Oh!” The mental lightbulb went on.  “Would it be immature of me to say ‘eww, gross’?”  Emberglow giggled.

“Maybe a little.”

“I’ll risk it,” Lofty said, and in a completely deadpan voice, said, “Eww.  Gross.”

“I thought many stallions find Green Fields quite attractive,” Emberglow said carefully.  She certainly did; at least from a purely physical standpoint.

“There’s so much more to attraction than a cute mane and nice flanks,” Lofty said airily.  “I prefer a mare with intellect and ambition.”  She saw him eye her, trying to be casual about it, and decided to deflect that line of thought with humor.

“So you admit you have taken the time to admire her flank?” Emberglow teased, and Lofty glared at her, his face red.  “I’m kidding.  Thanks for what you did back there.”

“I should have done it sooner,” he muttered, and she looked at him.  Lofty looked guilty.  “Everypony in our class knows you’re getting bullied.  Why isn’t anypony else doing anything?”

“My mentor, Sir Steadfast, says it always happens to sponsored ponies,” Emberglow said casually, waving a hoof.  She felt a momentary pang of guilt; maybe she should have reached out to some of the other sponsored ponies.  

“That doesn’t make it right,” Lofty said.  “Nor does it make it any less wrong for those of us who observe, but do nothing.  We’re supposed to be the best ponykind has to offer.”

“We’re also just kids,” Emberglow shrugged.  “We still have time to become what the Saints want us to.”

“I guess so.  It’s still nice of you to give those jackasses a pass, though,” Lofty said.

“I’m not giving them a pass, I just have better things to do than let them get to me,” Emberglow said.  The path they were on rounded the corner of one of the buildings, revealing the empty grass field their class was meeting in.  There were three figures standing in the middle of the field; Emberglow couldn’t make them out.  Of the three, two of them appeared to be in armor, and one of them was clearly an earth pony in Knight Armor.  Emberglow’s interest in tonight’s lesson grew.

“Is that… a gryphon?!” Lofty exclaimed as they grew closer.  Murmurs from the other students around them confirmed that he wasn’t the only pony to make that observation.  Indeed, Emberglow could clearly see the feathered head, sharp beak, and leonine claws of the strange creature as they approached.  She had only ever seen gryphons in paintings and photographs before.  He was wearing armor, not the magical armor of the Knights, but a mundane leather affair, with metal plates sewn in strategic locations.  He even wore a metal helmet.  “What in the name of All Saints is a gryphon doing in New Canterlot City?”

“I imagine we’ll find out in just a second,” Emberglow said, her voice betraying her own curiosity.  The other two figures were more familiar, even if Emberglow didn’t recognize one of them.  The first was their earth pony martial arts trainer, Lady Amaranth of the Knights Adamant.  She wore her typical exercise uniform, loose blue dyed cotton with Saint Rainbow Dash’s cutie mark embroidered on the side.  The other was also clearly a Knight, and Emberglow’s excitement surged to see that the Knight was wearing the white painted armor of the Knights Radiant, complete with Saint Rarity’s cutie mark painted on the flank.  “Do you see who’s next to the griffon, though?  A real, live Knight Radiant!”

Emberglow knew she sounded a bit like a fanfilly.  She didn’t care.  She’d never had a chance to speak with one of Saint Rarity’s Knights before; she’d read plenty of stories and newspaper articles, and of course she’d met Knights from the other orders, like Sir Steadfast and Lady Ruby Berry.  But Saint Rarity’s was the smallest of the five Holy Orders, and Emberglow had never had a chance to actually meet one of its members.

“You’ve never met one before?” Lofty said, as they stepped onto the grassy field.  “Huh, that seems odd.  Is that the order you’re going for?”

“Yeah it is,” Emberglow replied, her eyes not leaving the mare.  She was tall and elegantly beautiful; the battle scar dragging down the center of her muzzle was an accent, rather than a distraction, from her dignified beauty.  The Knight’s emerald hair was a perfect complement to her pale, lime colored eyes and sky-blue fur.  She watched the approaching pages with a patient interest.

“Class, gather up!” Lady Amaranth called out to her students as they approached, chattering and gossiping about the two guests.  “Quiet now, please.  Gather up, and mouths closed.  We have a special lesson today, with two guests.  First, I know you’re all a little alarmed about the presence of one of the lesser races here today.  Pages, this is Adorjan.  He is a mercenary from the Badlands.  He cannot speak Ponish, so don’t bother trying to have a conversation with him.  He’s here to help in our training tonight, and for the next four weeks.  He is the reason our next several class meetings will be held outside; all of the Seminary’s buildings are sanctified, so we are forbidden from allowing heathens inside.

“Also with us tonight is Lady Mercy Song, of the Knights Radiant.  Our training over the next few weeks will be grueling and violent.  Some of you will get hurt.  Most of you, probably.  She is here to be on hoof when something goes wrong.  But please, don’t assume that the presence of a skilled Knight Radiant excuses any of you from constant concentration or vigilance.  It doesn’t.  Understood?”

“Yes ma’am!” thirty odd voices chorused.

“Tonight we are going to begin learning how to fight against a unicorn!  Now you may be wondering, how can we learn that if there are no unicorns to practice against?  The answer is, you can’t!  But you can come close,” Lady Amaranth said with a grim smile.  “Can anypony tell me what the biggest difference is between fighting a unicorn Knight, and fighting a Knight from one of the pony races?”

The class silently muttered to each other, stewing over the answers.  It was Lofty Tale who spoke up; Emberglow remembered her new friend was always one of the best in this class.

“Levitation, ma’am!” Lofty called out.

“That’s right, page!  Levitation!  With rune magic, we can mimic nearly every single spell a unicorn can cast, except two.  Levitation, and teleportation.  Of the two spells, teleportation is by far the most difficult, and only used by the most skilled and talented of unicorns.  Levitation, however, can be used practically at birth by unicorn foals.  Every unicorn foe you encounter will be able to levitate objects, attacking you from multiple angles and unexpected vectors.  That is why our griffin mercenary is here.  Though he cannot levitate anything, his claws will allow him to grip two weapons at once, attacking from unexpected angles.

“One thing I must emphasize is this; as we spar with Adorjan, here, he will be using a specialized fighting style designed only to train you how to fight unicorns!  Griffins have their own way of fighting, and if you expect any griffon to fight as he is tonight, you will be dead before you have time to ask what went wrong.  Any questions?”  Everypony was silent; several were practically dancing on their hooves to have a chance at sparring with the griffon.  “No?  Good.  Here’s how tonight’s lesson will go.  I will begin, equipped with nothing but a single buckler.  My only objective is to not get hit.  Adorjan here will be equipped with two wooden swords.  His only objective is to hit me.  Just so you ponies know, our griffin mercenary is particularly motivated; each bout will be timed; you will fight the griffin for five minutes.  Every one of you he manages to strike within those five minutes is a bonus bit for his paycheck.  He is very interested in extra pay.  I can only hope you lot are just as interested in not getting your bones broken!  Now, I’ll go first, for a demonstration.  I’ve promised Adorjan an extra fifteen bits if he manages to strike me.”

“She’s exaggerating, right?” Emberglow whispered to Lofty, who shrugged.

“If she is, why do we need a Radiant?” he asked, and Emberglow shivered with nervousness.

Lady Amaranth turned to the non-pony creature, squawking something at him in a language none of the pages understood.  The griffon chuckled, and screeched something back at her.  He reached down into the grass and picked up two wooden swords.  Emberglow recognized the practice weapons the ponies had been drilling with for months now; each wooden blade was deliberately weighted so that they had the heft and balance of a real weapon.  Each one contained a slightly flexible metal core, with a collection of bound-together wooden dowels.  Though they didn’t cut, they could still leave wicked bruises or even broken bones if they hit just right.  Lady Amaranth picked up a wooden buckler, and the two proceeded into an open space in the field.

“Lady Song, please start the time,” Lady Amaranth said.  The armored Knight Radiant was wearing a stopwatch around her neck.  She picked up the stopwatch and pushed the button on the top, calling out “Begin!” to the two combatants.

There was no hesitation, no pause, no sizing up of opponents.  Adorjan simply lunged, his wings thrusting powerfully to put him in midair, just above his pony opponent.  His right sword lunged, pointed downward right at the Knight’s head, while his left swooped in for a slice at neck height.  When Lady Amaranth blocked the first stab, the griffon immediately shifted, his slice sliding lower.  Lady Amaranth rolled away from the slice, dodging backwards and to the left.

The griffon pressed his attack aggressively, but even Emberglow, with her inexperienced eyes, could see the oddities in the griffon’s movement.  Not once did he employ his sharp back claws, and neither did he take full advantage of the higher ground his wings afforded him.  He simply used his wings to create mobility.  Each slice or stab became hard to predict as the griffon dodged and wove through the air, always just at about pony height.  Sometimes both attacks came at the same time, sometimes he staggered them, forcing the Knight to dodge or block accordingly.

Emberglow noticed that the griffon always tried to attack from as different a direction as possible.  She tried to imagine what it might look like if Lady Amaranth were actually fighting a unicorn; dodging and blocking multiple strikes from weapons held aloft in the levitating glow of a unicorn’s blasphemous magic.  She watched as Amaranth barely ducked under a vicious slice, only to have to bring her shield up rapidly to knock the other weapon away as it was darting towards her chin.

For five whole minutes the opponents wove and darted around each other.  Each time Emberglow thought the griffon was about to land a hit, Lady Amaranth managed to weave out of the attack.  For a moment, Emberglow wondered what the fight would be like if the Lady Knight were also armed.  She imagined that future lessons might contain just such a situation.  

Finally, Lady Mercy Song shouted, “Time!” and the two combatants took a moment to catch their breath.  The griffon floated over to a pair of water bottles on the ground, picked one up, and drank deeply.  With a laugh, he said something in his odd language at Lady Amaranth, who smirked and responded in kind.

“Okay.  That’s how this exercise works.  Come forward when I call your name, and you’ll get your turn with Adorjan.  The exercise lasts for five minutes, or until you get hit.  First up, Astrolabe!”

The earth pony mare moved forward with a nervous gulp.  Lady Amaranth handed the younger earth pony the buckler, helping her attach it to her front right hoof.  She then gave Astrolabe a gentle shove into the field, where the griffon looked on with slight boredom.  He muttered something in his high-pitched tongue.

“Ready?” Lady Mercy Song called out, waiting for Astrolabe’s shaky nod.  “Begin!”

Emberglow had to give Astrolabe credit; the mare had paid close attention to the earlier demonstration, trying to mimic Lady Amaranth’s movements as she blocked and dodged at the same time.  It was possible that Adorjan was moving a little more slowly than he had with Lady Amaranth; Emberglow wasn’t quite sure.  Astrolabe managed to block the first strike, and dodge the next two, before her third dodge took her right into the path of a down-rushing wooden blade.  With a dull thwack the practice weapon landed on her shoulder, and Astrolabe cried out in pain.  The griffon immediately back-winged, moving away from the young mare and halting his attack while Lady Mercy Song moved in.

Emberglow watched, fascinated, as the right gauntlet around Mercy Song’s hoof began to glow as the Knight channeled her rune magic.  She painted three runes in midair, just above Astrolabe’s injured shoulder.  Her eyes glowed briefly blue, before she called out, “No break, minor injury.  It will be bruised, but nothing too awful.  Forty-one seconds.”

It took the assembled ponies a moment to realize that Lady Mercy Song was reporting on how long Astrolabe had lasted.  Lady Amaranth nodded and called out for the next pony.  “Axel Grease, you’re up.”

Axel Grease managed only thirty four seconds, with a badly bruised rump.  Next was Candy Cane, at thirty seven seconds, with a bruised wing and a few broken feathers.  Then it was Emberglow’s turn.  She tried to ignore the look of misery on Candy Cane’s face as the mare unbuckled the shield from around her hoof to pass it on to Emberglow.  

“Ready?” Lady Mercy Song called out, and Emberglow felt her breath catch in her throat.  No, she wasn’t ready.  She was terrible at this class.  Well, perhaps not terrible.  Barely passing, maybe.  Certainly not anything to be impressed about, and wait a moment, had Lady Mercy Song said, “Begin?”  With an undignified squeak, she reacted before she could think as a practice sword swooped over her head, flopping onto her belly and bringing her shield hoof up, covering her face.   

There was a momentary pause before she heard the griffon laugh and felt something gently tap her back.

“Three seconds,” called out Lady Mercy Song, over the smattering of laughter from her fellow students.

“Page Emberglow.  Would you care to tell us what happened?” Lady Amaranth said, her voice not harsh, but disappointed.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I was nervous and distracted, and missed the start, and then I panicked,” Emberglow said honestly.  She was burning with embarrassment, looking down at her hooves in shame.  She heard the snickers of the others.

“Congratulations, Page Emberglow, you’re now dead.  Tell me, how badly do corpses care about nervousness?  Panic?  Embarrassment?”

“Um, not at all, ma’am?” Emberglow whimpered, shamefaced.

“Exactly.  Learn from your failures, Emberglow, and do better next time.  Hungry Gorge?  You’re up next.”

Emberglow slunk back to the rest of the group.  She wanted to bury her face in her hooves and hide, curled up in a little mortified ball, but she took Lady Amaranth’s words as an order.  Learn from your failures.  She sat down to watch the rest of the matches intently, ignoring the comments from the peanut gallery behind her.  

“Wow, that was atrocious,” Lofty Tale whispered from right next to her, though his voice was concerned rather than cruel or taunting.  

“Shut it,” she muttered at him.

“Still, it does mean you can only get better from here,” he mused.  “Besides, it’d be just unfair if you were good at everything.  You’re practically the smartest in our class, and you’re the best at rune magic, too.”  To be fair, the only thing they’d studied in rune magic was memorization and theory; they hadn’t been allowed a rune gauntlet to begin casting yet.

It was fairly obvious that Lofty was trying to cheer her up after her failure.  Still, she felt like he deserved a little appreciation for his kindness, even if she didn’t feel like talking.  She reached out a hoof and patted him on the shoulder, and he shot her a surprised look.  They both said nothing as Hungry Gorge returned to the group, somehow managing an impressive one minute, twenty one seconds, and rubbing his sore muzzle.

“You’ll do better next time.  I’m looking forward to tutoring you, and seeing how you improve.”

“Thanks, Lofty,” Emberglow said sincerely.

“Lofty Tale, you’re next,” Lady Amaranth called out, and Lofty grinned with excitement.

“Wish me luck,” he said.

“Good luck,” Emberglow called out to her friend.  Lofty approached the griffon trainer and strapped the buckler onto his hoof.

“When did the Tale family start keeping pets?” a familiar voice came from behind her.  Emberglow should have known the fangs would come out as soon as Lofty was out of earshot.  She did her best not to react, but her ears twitched subconsciously, turning to the sound before she could whip them back forward.  She owed it to Lofty to pay attention to his fight.

“I don’t know, but I never thought turtles were a very attractive pet.  All they do is hide their ugly heads under their shell.”  Emberglow wanted to scream.  Of course they would come up with a way to bring her recent failure into this.  She tried to focus back on the match that was about to start.

“Begin!” Lady Mercy called.

Lofty immediately began circling to the left, clockwise around his opponent.  The griffon didn’t hesitate either, screeching a battle cry and attacking with both weapons at once.  An easy swipe of the buckler would have knocked them both aside, but the clearly ambidextrous griffon had other plans; one of the swords stayed the course while the other snaked around the buckler to strike at Lofty’s chest.  

Lofty noticed the gambit, however, and quick-stepped back, out of range of the thrust.  A second swipe from the first sword went low, and Emberglow was sure he would jump over the weapon; it turned out that Lofty was cleverer than she was.  Rather than jumping over the low cutting wooden blade, he sidestepped it, giving him the position he needed to block the downward swipe from the other weapon.  Had the earth pony stallion been in midair, he probably wouldn’t have been able to block the other strike.

“Not only are turtles ugly, but they’re useless, as well,” came a third voice.  “All they do is sit there, eat, and get fat.”

The pattern of the fight continued on.  Adorjan would strike at Lofty in ways that had predictable responses, setting him up for a second strike that would hit if Lofty responded predictably to the first strike. Each feint, each misdirection, and Lofty would respond opposite what Adorjan was expecting. The key was clearly to always respond unpredictably.  Or at least not get startled and flop on the ground.    

Soon, even the bullying going on behind Emberglow slowed to a stop as the pages all became engrossed in Lofty’s fight with the griffin.  When they passed the one minute mark, Lofty was not yet even short of breath.  A near miss, where Adorjan’s wooden sword slid a mere paper’s width above Lofty’s mane, made the entire class gasp with tension.  But the timer kept going, and Lofty kept dodging.  

By the two minute mark, though, Emberglow could see Lofty’s shield drooping.  Adorjan clearly saw it too; a side swiped thrust with his right sword knocked the shield out of the way.  

The move was fast and violent; the griffon’s left-hand wooden blade impacted hard against Lofty’s forehead, just between his eyes.  Lofty stood still for a moment, frozen on his hooves, before his eyes rolled back and he slumped to the ground.  Emberglow was moving before she realized she’d made a conscious decision to do so.

“Hold, page,” Lady Amaranth ordered, and Emberglow froze as Lady Mercy Song was already at the unconscious stallion’s side.  She watched as the Knight Radiant started drawing runes, this time more than just for the simple diagnosis spell from earlier.

“Concussion.  Simple, no broken bones.  I’ll heal him.”  Her magical rune gauntlet glowed, flitting through the air in a complex pattern of runes.  The shimmer of magic surrounded Lofty Tale’s forehead and neck.  Lady Amaranth watched, concerned, while Adorjan took a moment to take a drink and rest from his bouts.  He seemed completely uninterested in the outcome of the healing.  

“He’ll be fine,” the healer announced, after a moment.  Indeed, Lofty’s eyes fluttered open after a second, and he whispered something at the Knight Radiant, who gave a surprised laugh.

“Two minutes, thirty seven seconds, young page,” the Radiant replied to his unheard question.  “Well done.”

She extended a hoof to help Lofty Tale to his hooves, who accepted with a shaky smile.  Once on his hooves, he stumbled a bit over to the rest of the pages, coming to a stop next to Emberglow.

“That was impressive,” Emberglow whispered.  Lofty nodded blearily.

“Thanks, that’s a nice thing for both of you to say,” he replied.  She was confused for a moment, before realizing he was making a joke about double vision.

“Not funny, Lofty.  If you’re experiencing double vision, that could be a sign that…”

“Stop, I was kidding,” Lofty said, as the two of them watched the next pony in line stumble away after a less-than-impressive thirty seconds.  “No double vision.  Healing rune spells are amazing.”

“How did it feel?” she asked.

“I don’t know.  I blacked out, remember?  Kinda cold, I guess.  Like my brain just ate a peppermint.”

“That makes… um… no sense,” Emberglow replied.

“I did just have a head injury,” Lofty said sagely, and Emberglow laughed. 

For the remainder of the session, the rest of the class had their chance fighting against the griffon.  Emberglow wondered if the creature was getting tired, but the timings for each of the students remained fairly constant, and Adorjan never appeared to flag with tiredness.  Though a few ponies were able to break the one minute mark, none came close to Lofty Tale’s lofty record.    

“That’s it!” Lady Amaranth called out after the last pony limped away from his opponent.  “You’re done for the day.  If you need to, see the infirmary for something to rub on your bruises.  I expect you all to stretch, and any injury you might have obtained will not be used as an excuse to get out of the morning jog tomorrow.  Emberglow and Lofty Tale, I’d like to see you both after.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m about to get told off, but why did she call you up?” Emberglow asked her friend.  Lofty shrugged.

“You’ll be fine,” Lofty said encouragingly.  Emberglow wasn’t so sure.

“Okay, young lady,” Lady Amaranth began as the two of them approached.  Emberglow’s head was low with shame, her ears pinned back against her head.  “That was a bit of a disaster,”

“Yes ma’am,” Emberglow said softly.

“Not really just a one-time mistake, either,” Lady Amaranth said.  “Look, I’m not trying to insult you or discourage you.  You’re smart, and you work hard.  Anypony can see that.  But you’re struggling in martial arts.  And it’s not a lack of effort.”

“Ma’am?” Emberglow asked, confused.  She noticed that Lady Mercy Song had made her way over to the three, but the griffon was minding his own business, sitting alone in the field.

“You’re a loner, Emberglow.  You try to do everything by yourself, and while for some subjects that might work for you, in this class you’re suffering for it.  Now, you’re a little older, right?  I was told you delayed a year before joining Knight training so you could finish medical school.”

“That’s correct, ma’am,” Emberglow said, receiving an impressed look from both Lofty Tale and Lady Mercy Song.

“Really?” Lady Mercy Song chimed in eagerly, earning an annoyed look from Lady Amaranth.

“You can interrogate the doctor after my class, Mercy.”

“Sorry Amy,” Lady Mercy said, shutting her mouth.

“Now then,” Lady Amaranth returned her attention to Emberglow.  “This shows determination and a willingness to work hard, but your age might also isolate you, and alienate you from the rest of the students.  I’m convinced you can be better, but you’re working in the wrong way.  Weapon training isn’t something a pony can do effectively by themselves.”  She turned to Lofty.  “Lofty Tale, you’re not always the top of the class, but you’re usually close.  And tonight’s performance was most impressive.  Not just luck, but a clever use of observation and instinct.  I am very pleased.  You also strike me as a kind and thoughtful stallion.  I would like you to tutor Emberglow in her combat training.  I will provide a lesson plan and materials.”  She paused.  Both Emberglow and Lofty Tale were grinning.  “Why are you both smiling?”

“We just came to a similar arrangement, ma’am,” Lofty said.  “In exchange for some help with my rune magic work, I was going to help Emberglow with her combat skills.”

“Oh.  Good.  Great!” Lady Amaranth said, pleased.  “I’ll still provide you with some structure, so your tutoring sessions will be more than just a study session.  I’ll have my squire deliver the plans to your dorm, Lofty.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Lofty said.  “Um, there may be one other issue.”

Emberglow looked at her friend in surprise, and Lady Amaranth cocked her head inquisitively.

“Emberglow has to spend much of her free time in the laundry room, due to the actions of others.  It may leave us little time for extra tutoring sessions.”

Emberglow’s face lit up with both anger and embarrassment.  

“Why would…” Lady Amaranth began, but Lady Mercy Song reached out to her, touching her briefly on the shoulder with a hoof.  They shared a significant glance.  “Hmm.  Very well.  Should additional laundry sessions become necessary again, I’ll assign another student to take care of them.  Miss Green Fields, perhaps?”

Emberglow gaped at the perceptive glance Lady Amaranth was giving her.  Maybe the teachers here were not as ignorant to the bullying as she had assumed.  Then again, Sir Steadfast had warned her.  Maybe the problem was hers, for not saying something.

“I think that would work, ma’am,” Lofty Tale replied.

“Good,” Lady Amaranth nodded curtly.  “Now if you ponies will excuse me, I have to escort our griffon to his quarters.  It’s illegal for him to wander about without escort, after all.”  She moved over to the griffon, conversing with him in his home tongue.

“Miss Emberglow?  I’d like a word, please,” Lady Mercy Song said. Emberglow only nodded, a little awed.  This was the first time she’d had a chance to actually meet and converse with a Knight from the order she wanted to join, after all.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.  Let me know if… well, you know,” Lofty Tale replied.

“Yeah.  And thanks,” Emberglow said, even though she had reservations.  If Green Fields and her flunkies were stymied in their bullying, would they simply find a new way to torment her?  Or would they give up?  Emberglow was betting on the former.  She didn’t want to say as much to Lofty, though; it was kind of him to worry about her, and she didn’t want to give him more cause to be concerned.  She made sure to smile as she waved goodbye to him when he walked off towards the dormitory.

“So you really finished medical school?” Lady Mercy asked as soon as they were alone.  The excitement in her voice was palpable.  “At your age?”

“I graduated secondary school when I was twelve, ma’am, and immediately went into medical school,” Emberglow answered.  “It’s my special talent.  My cutie mark told me I was going to go into medicine somehow.”

“Do you mind if I look up a picture of it in the school records?” Lady Mercy asked.  Emberglow nodded.  “Wonderful!  Um, and may I assume, from all that, the Order you intend on joining when you become a Knight?”

Emberglow grinned.  The Knight’s enthusiasm was infectious.

“Yes, you may, ma’am.  I hope to call you Sister someday.”

“Good.  Good!” The serious tone did little to hide Lady Mercy Song’s bubbling elation.  “We get so few applicants to the Knights Radiant.  In a class this size, with over seventy pages, we’re unlikely to get more than three or four who are aspiring to the Radiant at the beginning of the year.  With our luck, at least one of those three will drop out, and will change their mind and end up in the Jubilant or the Adamant.  We’re already the smallest order, Miss Emberglow.  We need talented ponies like yourself.”

“Talented ponies?” Emberglow said, suddenly doubtful.  “Ma’am, you saw what happened tonight.”

“I won’t lie, Emberglow.  It’s going to be difficult for you.  You’re going to work your rump off.  But hard work won’t be your problem, will it, Miss ‘I graduated med school as a teenager’?”

“I don’t mind hard work, ma’am,” Emberglow said, blushing.

“I didn’t think so.  Now, when does your class start service weekends?”

Service weekends were a tradition at the Ivy Seminary.  While in theory, pages were there to assist squires and Knights in their duties, the reality was that most of a page’s day was taken up by classes, homework, study, tutoring, and chores.  There was little time for more practical training.  So, as a tradition, twice a month on the weekends not used for family visits, Knights came to find pages to assist with various chores and small tasks.

“The Saturday after next will be our third.  I’ve volunteered each time, but I haven’t been picked for anything yet,” Emberglow said.  

“You will this week,” Lady Mercy Song said with a firm nod.  “I’ll be there.  Don’t worry, I’ll find something to keep you occupied.  I want to see what you’re made of, little pony.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Emberglow gushed.  A chance to prove herself!  To a Knight Radiant, even!  She was practically bouncing.

“Now, if you don’t mind my asking, you are a sponsored pony, right?” Lady Mercy Song asked.  “I’d like to get to know more about you, if you don’t mind.  Who is your sponsor?”

“Sir Steadfast Word, of the Knights Mystic, ma’am.”

“I haven’t met Sir Steadfast.  I’ll have to introduce myself,” Lady Mercy said with a small smile.  “Well, thank you for your time, Miss Emberglow.  I’m sure I’ll see you around soon.”

“I hope so, Lady Mercy,” Emberglow said, and the Knight nodded at her before walking off in the direction of the infirmary.  Emberglow spread her wings, taking to the air on her way back to her dormitory.  She didn’t fly often; it felt arrogant to her, to be in the air in this world of earth ponies.  But tonight her heart wanted to fly, so she did the best she could with her own wings.
> Chapter 5
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 5


Radio Broadcast, dated 1109 AF.

	Aurora Morning: Good morning, you’re listening to EVOD, the Voice of the Diarchy frequency one oh three point nine on your radio, and this is your morning update.  I’m one of your hosts, Aurora Morning, and here’s your other, Fiery Mantle.

	Fiery Mantle: Thanks, A M.  We’re here at the morning update to bring you the latest news about our boys and girls fighting at our borders, and overseas, against the heathens and non-pony creatures that would ravage our cities and demolish our countryside.

	A M: That’s right, F M.  So what good news do we have today?

	F M: Well first off, we have the Dragon Lands.  Our heroic soldiers just got back from a fight with not one, not two, but three D-class dragons.

	A M: Those aren’t small beasts, F M.

	F M: No they’re not. A D-class dragon’s bigger than a two story house.  And there were three of them!  

	A M: I’m sure there were a few singed coats and manes after that little dust up. 

	(Both hosts chuckle)

	F M: Probably a few.  What’s next?

	A M: Well, there was a good bit of action on the Zebrican front.

	F M: Any luck bringing those heathens to the light of the Diarchs?

	A M: There’s always forward motion, F M. This week, a squad of heroic soldiers, accompanied by some Knights Adamant, managed to capture nearly an entire village of zebras, alongside the traitor ponies who were hiding with them.  Fortunately for the heathens, they’ll have the chance to learn the glory of the Saints at Camp Bright Valley, the brand-new reeducation camp.

	F M: It’s also the first to be built on the Zebrican continent.

	A M:  Yes it is F M, but I’ve been told that’s not all.  It seems the heroic Knight Adamant leading the squad also reports the capture of two violent Knights Discordant.  According to my sources, the vicious creatures are on their way back to New Canterlot in chains as we speak, to face trial for their crimes.

	F M: A bright day for the Diarchy, indeed.

	A M: But that’s not the only good news today.  It seems the Knights Mystic and Vigilant, working together, uncovered a bit of a poisonous mole here in New Canterlot City.

	F M: No!  In the capitol?

	A M: That’s right.  A lowly secretary in the Central Cathedral by the name of Shady Pine was caught passing confessor secrets on to heretic elements outside the city.  Fortunately, the worm was caught in the act and apprehended by the two groups of Knights on his way to his heretic contact.

	F M: That’s one snake chopped off at the head.

	A M: That’s right F M, but heretics are like the hydra.  Cut off one head, and two more take it’s place.  You can never be too careful, or too vigilant, when it comes to heretics.

	F M: Too right, A M.  But now on to sports.  In the New Canterlot Regional Hoofball League, the Canterlot Holy Blades bested the Rainbow Falls Barriers eighteen to eleven.  The top plays of the game…

The rest of the recording is missing.

1109 AF, Ivy Seminary, New Canterlot City

“Wait, you said there were how many rune combinations?” Lofty asked, sounding panicked.

“Thousands.  But you don’t need to worry about that right now,” Emberglow explained.  They sat in the study hall, a large room full of semi-private cubicles that shared a building with a library.  Each cubicle was partitioned off from the others around it by way of thin wooden half walls.

“Thousands!?  How can I not worry about that!?  I have to memorize thousands of rune combinations!  I can’t memorize that much!”

“You’re thinking about this completely backwards,” Emberglow sighed in frustration.  “How about this.  What would you say if I was struggling at martial arts training…”

“Not much of an 'if',” Lofty interrupted snarkily.

“Hush.  If I was struggling at martial arts training because I was freaking out about all the different names for weapons?”

“That’s… ridiculous.  It’s a ridiculous analogy.  That doesn’t help at all,” Lofty groused.

“Okay, maybe a little ridiculous.  You’re still worrying about the wrong thing, though.  You don’t have to memorize the combinations.”

“I don’t?” Lofty asked.  “I thought you had to know the combinations in order to cast spells?”

“You do, but that’s not where you need to start.  You need to work on the runes first, then worry about the combinations.”

“Okay…” Lofty didn’t sound convinced.

“So I’m going to start from the beginning.  I’ll assume that you know nothing about runes at all…”

“Probably a safe assumption,” Lofty cut in.

“Hush!  I’ll start at the beginning.  There are three kinds of runes.  Object runes, action runes, and modifying runes.  How did you do in your Ponish classes in secondary school?” Emberglow asked.  The question caught Lofty off guard.

“Um, I did pretty well?  I actually enjoy writing,” Lofty said.

“Good.  So you understand the difference between nouns, verbs, adjectives, and adverbs,” Emberglow stated.

“Of course.  That’s basic Ponish stuff.  The building blocks to constructing a sentence.”

“Right.  Only we’re not constructing sentences, we’re constructing spells.  Object runes are like nouns; they refer to the object you’re trying to cast a spell on.  Action runes are the verbs, and modifying runes are the adjectives and adverbs.”

“Oh! Why doesn’t Sir Sablebeard teach it this way?” Lofty asked.

“I don’t know,” Emberglow answered.  “It’s something I read in a book.  So just like you need a noun and a verb to make a sentence, you need an object rune and an action rune to cast a spell.  It’s not a perfect analogy, but it works.  Just like you don’t have to memorize every sentence that could be written in order to write, you don’t have to memorize every single rune combination in order to cast spells, as long as you understand the underlying principle.”

“So… why does Sir Sablebeard say we need to memorize the rune combinations?” Lofty asked.

“Probably because he learned it that way, and he’s an ancient grandpa pony who never thought of another way to teach.  I don’t know,” Emberglow said.  Lofty gasped dramatically.

“Emberglow!  Did I just hear you insult a teacher?” He held a hoof to his mouth with a scandalized expression.  Emberglow swatted his hoof away.

“Nope, just his methods,” Emberglow muttered.  “But setting that aside, the first thing we’re going to work on is object runes.  They’ve been organized into three categories, in order to make them easier to learn.  The categories are animal, mineral, and vegetable.  Animal covers everything from ponies to jellyfish; basically anything alive that isn’t a plant or a mushroom.  Mineral is stuff that isn’t alive.  Vegetable is trees and mushrooms and plants.  That sort of stuff.”

“So there’s a rune for each of those things?” Lofty Tale asked.  Emberglow shook her head.

“No, the runes are more conceptual than that.  More… abstract.  The categories are just a way of organizing them, so that they make sense to ponies who are learning them, like us.  So the first thing we’re going to do is start memorizing animal object runes.  We’ll cover a few basics, then move on to a few of the simpler action runes.  Once you have a basic list figured out, we’ll start talking about combinations.  Does that sound manageable?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Okay.  I’ve already taken the time to write out a list of object runes to memorize.  How are you on memorization?  Like, what strategies do you use?”

“Um, I stare at what I want memorized until it’s imprinted in my brain?” Lofty said uncertainly.  

Emberglow sighed, resisting the urge to bury her face in her hooves.  This was going to take a while.

Forty mentally exhausting  minutes later, their study period was over for the day.  Emberglow stood, stretching her spine and each leg in turn, trying not to notice the way Lofty’s gaze lingered on her form before jerking away.

“Lunch is in ten minutes.  I’m going to head back to my dorm to drop off my books, you want to meet me in the cafeteria?” Emberglow asked.  Lofty shook his head.

“I was hoping I could walk you to your room,” he said.  Emberglow’s eyes narrowed, and Lofty verbally backpedaled.  “Erm, it’s just that Lady Amaranth doesn’t want you to have to spend any extra time doing laundry.  I have to make sure the pony I’m tutoring will have the time she needs to pay attention to her lessons.”

“You’re checking on my room?  Lofty, they haven’t dumped anything nasty in my sheets for a week and a half,” Emberglow said.  “It’s over.”

“I doubt it.  Green Fields is furious, and she’s just looking for a chance to do something horrible.  I tried to warn her to stay away…” He held up his hooves to forestall a furious look from Emberglow.  “I was careful!  I just vaguely let her know about your extra lessons, and who would be doing the laundry if anypony messed up your room or your sheets again.  She seemed to take it well.”

“That’s because she’s infatuated with you, idiot.  She’s going to act like nothing’s wrong around you.”

“I’ve never shown her an inch of interest,” Lofty protested.  “Why would she…”

“A fool’s hope can last forever,” Emberglow murmured.

“…but the righteous cling to wisdom,” Lofty finished the scripture with a sigh.  “Yeah, I get it.  Still, though, you’re my friend, and I’m going to do my best to help you with your bully situation.  So we’re walking back together.”

“Just don’t do anything weird,” Emberglow mumbled as she walked away.  Lofty ignored her, following after the mare to the dormitories.

The dorms were built to hold as many as two hundred ponies working towards Knighthood; their current class had dropped to sixty eight, with a few washouts, even only three and a half months into training.  Because there was so much space, the pages had the luxury of individual rooms.  The dorms were held in a two-story building, long and narrow, with a north and south wing.  The wings were segregated by gender, though it wasn’t against the rules to be in the hallways of another gender’s wing.  Emberglow walked in the large double doors and up the staircase to the second floor, turning right to the South wing and the girl’s dormitory area.

Emberglow smelled something wrong before she even opened her door, and her heart sank.  She had known better, but somehow she had really hoped that all this would be over.  She didn’t want Green Fields or her friends to be punished; she just wanted to be left alone.  But the stench coming from even her closed dorm room was a dead giveaway.

“Emberglow, I’m sorry, but I have to go tell Lady Amaranth.  It’s her orders,” Lofty said, his voice soft and compassionate.  Emberglow nodded.

“Sure.  Yeah.  Let’s just go in and see what the damage was,” Emberglow said.  Scrunching up her nose, she opened the door.  The rush of air from inside the room assaulted her with the stench of bodily waste.

“Oh, Emberglow, I’m so sorry,” Lofty Tale said, holding a hoof to his muzzle.  Emberglow nodded, stepping cautiously into the room.  Puddles of filth spotted the floor, but as usual, the main concentration of waste was smeared over her bed.  She checked her dresser drawers; they had been left untouched.  There, folded gently beneath her spare page robes, was her beloved dress, the gift from her parents.  Emberglow whispered a quick prayer of gratitude to the Saints as the pounding of her heart calmed, just a bit.  At least it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

“It's fine,” Emberglow gulped past the lump in her throat.  “But now you'll have to tell Lady Amaranth.  And she’ll act.  And they’ll hate me even more.”

“It has to stop sometime, Emberglow.  And you really do need that extra time to tutor me, and spar.”

“Thanks for reminding me.  I think I’ll keep my books with me, just to be safe.  You’ll…” Emberglow hesitated,  “…meet me in the cafeteria, after you speak with Lady Amaranth?”  She would have preferred to ignore it, just like the last six times this had happened.  But she had been given an order.  Obedience was more important than her own petty feelings.

“Yeah.  I’ll see you there,” he said, backing away from the room.  “Sorry again.”

“Not your fault, Lofty.  Thanks for… um… well, thanks,” Emberglow said awkwardly, and the two split off to their separate errands.

The cafeteria was also too large for the needs of the current year of students.  It could have easily held half again as many ponies as were eating there.  Trying not to appear too dejected, Emberglow went and lined up at the window where a stallion in an apron and mane-net was dishing out hay burgers and a spinach and strawberry salad.

“What’s that smell?” came the voice of Green Fields, a few ponies back in line.

“Eww!  Smells like horseapples!” Astrolabe responded.  Honestly, at this point it sounded rehearsed, like the two of them were giving lines in a play.  Emberglow ignored them.

“Really?  Because I think it smells like a dirty peasant who doesn’t know her place,” Green Fields hissed, coming closer so that her words were clearly directed at Emberglow.  

Emberglow’s eyes widened in surprise, and her ears turned back towards the mares behind her.  This was the first time their taunting had been deliberately directed right at her, rather than the passive-aggressive plausible deniability they’d gone for before.  Emberglow couldn’t help herself; she turned to face her tormentors.

“Keep your dirty peasant hooves off him, bitch,” the mare spat at Emberglow.  Green Field’s eyes glowed with fury, and her henchpony Astrolabe glared down her nose with contempt.  Green Fields stepped forward until she was nearly nose to nose with Emberglow.  “He’s too good for you.”

Oh.  So that was where this was going now.  And with Lofty currently fetching a teacher to come punish Green Fields for what she’d done…  Things were going to get really nasty, really fast.  Emberglow sighed.

“I want you to know, I never wanted things to go this far.  I just wanted to be left alone.  What comes next is your own fault,” Emberglow said softly.  “I wish this could have gone differently.”

“What?  Is that some kind of threat?” Green Fields spat.  Emberglow turned around, her back to her tormentor, and took the tray of food from the cafeteria worker.  She began walking carefully to her table.  “Answer me, bitch!  Don’t you dare ignore me, I’m speaking to you!”  Green Field’s voice was becoming shrill.

“Miss Green Fields?” Lady Amaranth's voice resounded through the cafeteria.  All the young ponies perked up, turning their ears, and for some their heads, towards the unexpected arrival.  “Come with me, please.”  

Emberglow didn’t even turn to look, but with how many ponies had at least overheard a bit of what had happened in line, quite a few eyes were turned to her as she made her way to a lonely spot at one of the tables, setting her tray down and beginning to eat.  She heard the clopping of hooves as Green Fields made her way over to where Lady Amaranth was standing at the door, and a loud, dismayed shout of “WHAT?!” as the bully realized what she would be required to do.  Emberglow didn’t look.  She had no appetite; eating was mechanical.  She didn’t look up until she heard the sound of a metal tray hitting the table next to her.

“Hey,” Lofty Tale said, his voice cautious.  “Everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” Emberglow sighed.  “I’m just… sad about the whole thing.  And angry.  Maybe she backs off now, maybe she doesn’t, but why can’t ponies just treat each other nicely?  What did I ever do to her?  Why’d she have to let it get this far?  This whole situation is like a bad cliché out of some foal’s tale.” She could feel herself getting more emotional, more frustrated with each word.  Lofty reached out a hoof to her shoulder, patting it gently.

“Sometimes ponies are just cruel to each other.  It doesn’t always make sense.  You could just as easily be asking why nopony did something sooner.”  He gestured out over the crowd eating their meals and pretending not to be trying to overhear what the two were speaking about.

“Why do ponies hurt each other, though?  It makes no sense!”  Emberglow could tell she was being irrational, and perhaps a little incoherent.  “Cruelty, spite, bitterness, these things shouldn’t exist!  Who the buck cares about nobility and commoners, class differences, that sort of horseapples?”

“Emberglow…” Lofty Tale said with a sigh.  “You and I were raised in very different worlds.  I was literally told, every day, that I was better than everypony else because of the noble family I was born into.  We’re raised that way.  It takes time and effort to break out of that kind of conditioning; and some ponies never bother, or even see the need.”

“You did,” Emberglow pointed out.  “Why’d you decide to be nice and decent, rather than stuck up and snooty?”

“I… it’s complicated,” Lofty Tale protested.  “And I’m not as decent as you think.”

“That’s horseapples and you know it,” Emberglow snorted.  “You were the only pony to even bother to talk to me.  That makes you better than anypony else here, even me.  Do you see me making an effort to make friends?  To talk to anypony else?  No.  And I’ve heard the way you talk to even Green Fields.  You don’t like her, but you still try to treat her with respect.”

“That’s what I was taught,” Lofty Tale explained.  “Look, I can guarantee that every single noble here was taught practically from birth that they were better than everypony else.  I was taught the exact same thing.  But my parents also taught me that superiority comes with a cost.  Because of the benefits I was born with, I’m obligated to be respectful to my lessers.”

“Noblesse oblige,” Emberglow said softly.

“Yeah, that’s the term my mother used,” Lofty shook his head.  “But it’s garbage.  The whole idea is rotten.  The Saints don’t ask us to be kind and generous because of some obligation, the Saints ask us to be kind and generous because it’s the right thing to do.  We’re supposed to behave well because we want to, not because of some stupid rule in a language I don’t even know.”

“Prench, I think.  One of the dead languages,” Emberglow supplied.  Lofty rolled his eyes.

“Not the point, but you get what I mean,” he said.  Emberglow nodded.  “But sometimes it’s not enough.  Wanting to be kind is not enough, and I find myself thinking things, saying things, condescending to ponies, wondering ‘what can this mare or this stallion do for my social standing’ and other stuff like that.”

“I guess… nopony’s perfect,” Emberglow said, sighing.  “But you are kind, and patient, and genuine.  You’re not like them.  No matter what you think of yourself, you’re trying.  That’s what matters, right?”

The two ponies looked at each other, then down at their trays, silently, their heads momentarily bowed by the weight of their own imperfections.  Emberglow pawed at her salad for a moment.

“What do you think is going to happen next?” she asked.

“Hopefully?  Green Fields washes your sheets, and then realizes foalish pranks aren’t worth it.  She goes back to mocking you in class, which you ignore, and we have plenty of time to get you into fighting shape.”

“But what if…”

“Nope.  We’re not going down that path.  Emberglow, you’re strong.  You’ve been putting up with their crap for months now, and you’ll be able to put up with whatever else they throw at you.  Trust me, it will all be fine.”  Emberglow’s eyes misted over at the sincere compliment, and she wordlessly leaned over to hug her friend.


*   *   *   *   *


After lunch, the class reported to Rune Magic, where a dour, black furred pegasus named Sir Sablebeard droned on about runes and rune theory.  Until they began learning the real practical elements of spellcasting, the class was frighteningly boring.  It didn’t help that Sir Sablebeard never asked any questions, nor invited student participation.  There were a few, such as Lofty Tale, who were trying desperately to pay attention, though most students simply zoned out for the duration.

As the students blearily woke up and filtered out of the classroom at the end of the hour-long instruction period, Emberglow was a little surprised to see Green Fields waiting for them all.  She was seething, her face a twisted painting of rage.  Her hooves were pruney and wrinkly from having had to hoof-wash Emberglow’s sheets.  Emberglow tried to give her a sympathetic look, but Green Fields brushed right past her, ramming her painfully with a shoulder as she walked over to Astrolabe and her other friends.  There was a muttered conversation, which Emberglow tried to ignore.

“Don’t worry about it.  This will blow over, she’ll realize there’s no point in retaliation if the instructors know what’s going on,” Lofty said.

The rest of the week did go as peacefully as Lofty had predicted.  There were no more incidents; no more foul or sticky substances smeared in Emberglow’s sheets or robes, and no more bullying; at least none that left any sort of physical evidence.  With Green Fields spending much of her time sulking and staring at Emberglow with murderous eyes, Astrolabe had begun to hesitatingly take up the torch of the passive aggressive verbal bullying, which was fine for Emberglow.  Other ponies still joined in, but a few words were much easier to deal with than the vandalism.  

Sparring with Lofty was a blessing from the Diarchs.  While she would never be a genius in combat, with the focused help of her friend she was managing to at least avoid tripping over her feet.  

The lessons with Lady Amaranth still included the griffon mercenary, Adorjan.  In a few days, Emberglow had managed to increase her time from three seconds to a not nearly as embarrassing thirty five, even as Lofty had finally broken the three minute mark. 

Lofty was also coming along nicely in memorizing runes; he had long ago left the bottom of the class behind and was treading water somewhere in the middle. Emberglow thought perhaps that the earth pony stallion was not the only pony struggling to make sense of that class.  

When the weekend arrived, Emberglow was more than ready for two days off to visit with her parents, and meet with Sir Steadfast.  Her mentor always had insights into what was going on, and there was a lot to unpack from this week.  She knew he would want to see her as soon as the students were released Saturday morning, then she could go home to her parents until Sunday evening.  

When joining Knight training, each pony was allowed to bring a single personal item, a sentimental one.  Emberglow had chosen to bring her beloved dress, the gift from her parents so many years ago.  It had been altered twice, to fit her growing form, and it was still her most prized possession. She had lovingly donned the dress before her weekend excursion, knowing that her parents would appreciate the gesture of gratitude.  

So it was with a bit of a prance in her step that she left the campus Saturday morning, making her way to the Star Shine Memorial Building.  The same two older mares worked as secretaries at the front desk that had been working there when she had come for her very first interview with Sir Steadfast.  She didn’t know them by name, but they knew each other by face, and the both of them smiled and waved as Emberglow walked past them and up the stairs to the third floor.

Sir Steadfast’s most recent squire was a mare named Nautilus Spiral.  She was a serious-faced pegasus pony, with a severely styled black mane and yellow coat, working on joining the Knights Vigilant.  Squires were always assigned to mentors outside of the order they intended to join, to get a different perspective on the other orders.  Nautilus looked up when Emberglow entered.

“Hello,” the pony said without a smile.  “He’s expecting you.”  Emberglow waved her thank you, and entered the now-familiar office.

“Emberglow!” Sir Steadfast called out when she entered.  “I’m very upset with you.”  He was grinning as he said it, and stood to shake her hoof in greeting.

“Sir?” she asked, confused.  He laughed as he gestured for her to sit on one of the pillows on the floor in front of his desk.  She sat.  

“You’ve turned my office into a hornet’s nest the last few days!  Do you know how many visits I’ve had from curious Knights Radiant in the last week, asking about this mystery young mare looking to join them, who has already graduated from medical school?”  Sir Steadfast shook his head in mock annoyance.  “At least a dozen, maybe more!”

“Um, sorry?” Emberglow’s brow furrowed.

“Don’t be, I’m being silly.  But still, you do realize that this puts the last nail in the coffin of my grand ambition, don’t you?”

“Your grand ambition, sir?”

“To convince you to switch sides, of course.  To come over and join with me in the Knights Mystic.  Now that the Radiant know how wonderful you are, they’re going to sink their claws in so deep we’ll never even have a chance,” Steadfast said, with a theatrical sigh of dismay.  “Seriously though.  I am curious what you might have done to catch Mercy Song’s attention.”

“I, uh, massively flubbed a combat training match and embarrassed myself in front of Lady Mercy, Lady Amaranth, and my entire class?  And when Lady Amaranth took me aside to assign extra tutoring, she mentioned my other accomplishments.  So, nothing really impressive.”

“’Massively flubbed’?” Sir Steadfast asked.

“As in, we were supposed to spar with this griffon mercenary in order to learn about fighting with unicorns and telekinesis, and I panicked, flopped on the ground, and… uh… yeah.  I lasted three seconds.”  Sir Steadfast raised his eyebrows at her silently, and she rubbed one hoof nervously against the other.  “You’re probably not so convinced I’d make a good Knight Mystic now.”

The statement made him laugh out loud, a genuinely amused belly laugh that lasted nearly a minute.

“Oh, Emberglow, you would make an amazing Mystic, deficiencies with combat aside.  We ponies aren’t made for combat, or war; the Diarchs didn’t design us for fighting.  If they had, maybe we would have had claws and fire breath, like the dragons, or claws capable of effectively gripping weaponry, like minotaurs or griffons.  We simply aren’t intended to be good at killing.  The most important thing for a Knight Mystic is an inquisitive and sharp mind, and I’ve known you had one of those since you were twelve.”

“Well, thank you, sir,” Emberglow mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

“At least it’s good to know why so many Knights Radiant have been beating down my door recently.  All joking aside, I’m proud of you, Emberglow.  You say you’re receiving extra tutoring for your martial arts classes?”

“A friend of mine is helping me, yeah,” she replied.

“May I ask who?”

“Lofty Tale is his name.  He’s actually quite good, I’ve improved quite a bit,” Emberglow said.

Their conversation continued, with Emberglow updating her mentor on every aspect of her Knight training.  She wasn’t sure if all sponsorship ponies had interviews this involved with the Knight paying their tuition, but she didn’t mind it at all.  Sir Steadfast was her inspiration for joining the Knighthood, after all, and having his insight and advice into her daily activities was a valuable resource.

“There was one more thing I wanted to ask you,” she ventured carefully.  She felt like it was a bit of a risk to bring up this last point, but she really wanted to know what he thought.  “Before I moved into the dorms, you warned me about some of the other students treating sponsorship students differently.  You know, bullying and stuff like that.”

“Yes,” Sir Steadfast said, motioning for her to go on.

“If everypony… I mean, instructors and other Knights and such, know that this sort of thing goes on, why don’t they do anything to stop it?” Emberglow asked, intentionally keeping her queries vague.

“Hmm,” Sir Steadfast mused, scratching his chin idly with one hoof.  “That’s a little bit of a complicated question.  You do know that not everypony graduates from the Ivy Seminary.  There are washouts, expulsions, and ponies that just aren’t strong enough.”

“Yes, of course.  We’ve had the odd few leave already,” Emberglow said.

“Some ponies believe that everything you do, every waking and sleeping moment, should be a test.  A chance to see how you react to different pressures and situations.  Those Knights would believe that to complain about harsh treatment from other students would be a sign of weakness, or unworthiness.” Sir Steadfast’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned over his desk to look intently at Emberglow.  She nearly shrank away from his suddenly intimidating presence.  “I am not one of those ponies.  And neither is Lady Amaranth.”

“Sir?” Emberglow asked, confused.  Did that mean he knew about what was going on at the school?

“She spoke with me, a few days ago,” Sir Steadfast said.  He held up a hoof to forestall the question Emberglow was about to ask.  “She didn’t tell me anything, really, only that you were doing very well in most of your classes, you needed extra help in one, and some… unplanned extra chores were getting in the way of your necessary tutoring.  Neither I nor Lady Amaranth believe you should be subjected to different treatment because you are a sponsored student.  I won’t give you an order, Emberglow, but I am asking you to keep Lady Amaranth informed of what is happening.  She’ll do what needs to be done.”

“Yes, sir.  But what if…” she hesitated.  She didn’t want to name Green Fields out loud; the mare already hated her enough.  “What if it escalates?  In retaliation for… consequences that already got leveled?”

“It very well might escalate.  But Lady Amaranth is watching out for you, and I’ll ask you to tell her if things get worse.  Will you do that for me?  Then she or I will deal with the situation.”

“Yes sir,” Emberglow breathed, suddenly feeling a little better.

“Now, I’ve taken up enough of your time.  Go and see those proud parents of yours.  I’m sure they’re as excited to see you as you are to see them.”

“Yes sir!” Emberglow cheered, and stood.  With a happy wave goodbye, she left Sir Steadfast’s office in high spirits.  Her chats with him always made her feel good.  

Emberglow’s parents were, of course, ecstatic to see her.  She only got to visit one weekend a month, after all.  They wanted to close up shop for her, but she insisted on at least a little normalcy, so they allowed her to help them run the shop while the three of them chatted about her life, and recent developments at the school.  She kept away from any mention of bullying.

The weekend passed far too quickly for Emberglow’s tastes, and soon enough she was heading back to the dorms after kissing her parents both goodbye for another month.  She chose to fly this time; the air was cooling as the sun set and she wanted to feel it in her wings.  Emberglow never flew too high; for some reason, using her Diarchs-given feathery gifts always felt like an act of arrogance to her.  But tonight she wanted to indulge, just a little.  

Many of the other students were trotting or flying into campus at the same time; Emberglow called out to Lofty Tale and waved cheerily as she flew over his head, and ignored the angry glare of a certain earth pony mare (who seemed to have recovered from her bad case of pruney hooves).  There was nothing other than curfew and lights out call for that night, so she quickly changed out of her dress before crawling into her bed.

Her dream that night was a pleasant one; Emberglow frequently didn’t remember her dreams, but this night was an exception.  She was flying through a cloudy sky at night, with the moon glowing behind her.  The moon felt… happy, somehow, in a way that reminded her of her mother’s warm embrace.  Emberglow flitted from cloud to cloud, trying to hide from the moon, like a foal playing hide and seek.  Each time the light shone on her giggling, foalish face, she felt a surge of love and affection.  She woke up feeling more than well rested.

The next few days felt different to Emberglow.  While the verbal bullying continued, she noticed that several of her usual tormentors were being cautious about their vitriol, especially Green Fields.  Nopony said anything when there was even a chance of an instructor overhearing, though the number of furious glares she got from Green Fields magnified dramatically.  Any time she was speaking or walking with Lofty, the high-class mare would be trying to execute her with her expression.  

Lady Amaranth’s class was becoming more and more complicated, and Emberglow was just barely keeping up, even with Lofty’s tutoring.  Lady Amaranth had taken away the buckler in their bouts with Adorjan, and now they were required to fight against the griffon with a weapon of their choice.  The goal of the match was now to get the shortest time; time would stop when the pony struck the mercenary creature, rather than the other way around, or when it hit five minutes.  That left the rest of the time open for Adorjan to hit the ponies as many times as he wanted; Lady Amaranth had said his bonus was a half bit for every strike.  Adorjan had walked away from that lesson a very rich griffin; only a hoof full of ponies had managed to strike him before the time was up.  

The coming Saturday was a service weekend.  Knights from all five orders who needed extra hooves, or help with some minor task or chore, could come glean from pages looking to impress their instructors.  Many Knights didn’t even bother; it was usually too much of a hassle when they could simply rely on hired hooves for whatever they needed doing.  But others saw it as a learning opportunity, and willingly came to the school to give pages a chance to serve.  The students would meet in the cafeteria, waiting as Knights who needed tasks done would come in and ask for volunteers, after describing the task at hand.  

Emberglow and Lofty sat next to each other in the cafeteria, waiting for the Knights to come offer service jobs.  She was gratified to see Lady Mercy Song among the group that came in looking for pages to work.

“I am Knight Bolide Bright, of the Adamant.  I need five pages to come help with some manual labor.  We are reconstructing the training and jousting field at the Exalted Sky, our headquarters here in New Canterlot City,” the first knight, a golden colored pegasus stallion wearing the sky-blue robes of the Adamant.  A dozen hooves shot into the air, and Sir Bolide selected five of them, instructing them to follow him.  Even though manual labor didn’t sound fun, the Adamant was by far the most popular order, and many students would be interested at the chance to not only impress the martial ponies, but also get an inside look at their headquarters.  Besides, whoever didn’t volunteer here would be stuck at the school doing the same boring chores they’d done the last few weeks.  

The next Knight stepped up. “I am Knight Red Vine, of the Vigilant.  My scribe is ill, and I need a page with very excellent hoofwriting to come take notes on the cases I will be hearing today.  You must have a fine eye for detail and be able to take diction quickly.”  Some few less ponies volunteered for this one.  Emberglow would have, had she not made prior arrangements with Lady Mercy.  Sir Red Vine had a word with Sir Heavenseeker, the Knight who was overseeing the volunteers, who helped him select the candidate who was closest to his requirements.

“You could have done that,” Emberglow whispered at Lofty, who chuckled silently.  “You have excellent hoofwriting.”

“Hmm, being stuck in a room taking dictation from a grandpa pony all day?  I’d rather scrub toilets,” he muttered back.  Emberglow laughed softly as Lady Mercy Song stepped forward.

“I have already made arrangements with my volunteer,” she told Sir Heavenseeker.  “Emberglow?”

“Have fun,” Lofty said, patting her on the shoulder with a hoof as she stood.  “Tell me all about it when you get back.”

“Of course,” she said, trotting to where the Knight Radiant was waiting.  The regal-looking pony was not wearing her armor this time, instead having chosen to dress simply in the white robes of her order.

“Somepony thinks she’s special,” a muttered voice came from the assembled ponies, and Emberglow’s ears twitched unconsciously. She didn’t turn to look and see who had spoken, though, forcing herself to hold her head high as she left the cafeteria behind Lady Mercy Song.

“Good morning, my little pony,” Lady Mercy said, as soon as they had exited the cafeteria.  “Are you well rested?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow replied cheerfully.  “What are we doing today?”

“Walking in the Saint’s footsteps, Emberglow,” Lady Mercy said cryptically, with a smile.  The two of them left the grounds of the Seminary and trotted towards the center of the Temple District.  Emberglow waited patiently for Lady Mercy to fill in more details.  “Tell me, young Emberglow.  What was Lady Rarity known for?”

This was a trick question.  The common lay pony would say something like, ‘healing magic’.  Indeed, the thing the Knights Radiant were most known for was their prowess with rune spells that healed wounds, cleansed disease, and promoted physical health and welfare.  But that wasn’t the answer Lady Mercy was looking for.

“Her generosity, Lady Mercy,” Emberglow said.  Lady Mercy nodded.

“Lady Rarity would give of her time and talents to anypony.  Though this often involved magical healing of some kind, that wasn’t always the case.  She was, after all, the pony who tried to clothe the world and teach the ignorant about the shame of nudity.  So while we Radiant are responsible for healing magic, that is only a small part of what we do.”  The larger pony stopped, and turned to look at Emberglow.  “The task we are working on today is a difficult one.  It may require you to have a thick hide, and be able to ignore cruel or hateful things that are said to you.  Do you think you can manage that?”

Emberglow nearly laughed.  Manage something that had literally been the status quo of her life for the last three months?

“I think I’ll be okay, my lady.  Whatever you require of me,” Emberglow answered.  She followed Lady Mercy out of the campus and into the street, where the two of them made their way towards the Hall of the Upright, the headquarters of the Knights Vigilant.

“Who is deserving of Lady Rarity’s generosity, Emberglow?” Lady Mercy Song asked suddenly.  It sounded like a rhetorical question, the beginning of a discussion.  It was very similar to how Sir Heavenseeker began several of his class discussions.  Emberglow wondered if Lady Mercy had studied under the historian, as well.

“Everypony, I think,” Emberglow said, with some hesitation.  She wasn’t sure where the older mare was going with this.  The two of them walked past the pillories, where a great number of ponies were suffering for various crimes and offenses.  Emberglow tried not to look; there were two kinds of ponies in New Canterlot City when it came to public humiliation, those who relished in the pain and shame of their fellow ponies, and those who tried to ignore them.  Emberglow didn’t see the need to glory in another pony’s mistakes, or their punishment.

“Even these ponies?” Lady Mercy Song asked, gesturing with one hoof towards the suffering criminals, bent awkwardly in the pillories.

“I guess it would depend on what you mean by Saint Rarity’s generosity,” Emberglow answered.  “But all ponies are deserving of kindness and dignity, though they should not be sheltered from the consequences of their actions.”

“True.  Have you ever been to a criminal trial, Emberglow?”

“Never, my lady.”

“When a pony is accused of a crime, the Knights Vigilant gather evidence to prove that pony’s guilt.  But the Radiant have a role to play in trials, as well.  We are there to assure that the voice of mercy is heard.  We do not seek to absolve the guilty of responsibility, but we are present at trial to be the voice of gentleness and kindness.  As healers, we are also there to ensure the punishment received by the guilty only goes as far as is allowed by law, and no farther.  It is a holy task.”  The two of them reached the Justice building, and walked inside.

The Hall of the Upright was both like and unlike the headquarters of the Mystics, a building Emberglow was much more familiar with.  Like the Star Shine Memorial building, the Hall had clearly been built to impress; large stone blocks, much bigger than even the strongest earth pony could manage by him or herself, made up the walls.  The ceilings were domed, but where the inquisition building was built to look like a fortress, the Hall of the Upright was much more decorative.  The domes in the ceiling were made of stained glass, each one a picture of beauty. Emberglow looked up to see the sun illuminating each scene from above; one was an illustration of the time Saint Applejack and Saint Fluttershy had saved the entire city of Las Pegasus by exposing the vile dictator who had enslaved them.  Another contained an image of the orange Saint harvesting apples on her farm.  A third was an image of all six Saints, joined hoof and hoof in a circle around the dome, wearing their fabled relic necklaces (or crown, in the case of Saint Twilight Sparkle).  Each one cast its own rainbow of patterns on the polished stone floors.

While Emberglow was used to the bustle of the inquisition building, the Hall of the Upright seemed much quieter.  Ponies were moving quickly back and forth, many carrying papers or briefcases, but there was a solemnity to their business that was absent in the other order’s headquarters.  There were several ponies dressed in the orange robes of the Knights Vigilant, and even a few wearing their armor.

“Did you know the Hall of the Upright has a kitchen?” Lady Mercy asked as Emberglow followed her to a staircase descending into the basement.  “They provide all the meals for the various judges who sit on cases in the building, as well as the investigators, the secretaries, scribes, janitors, and staff.  Diamond Home doesn’t even have a kitchen,” she muttered, her voice falling a bit as she mentioned the significantly smaller headquarters of the Knights Radiant.  “We have to bring our own lunches if we’re working at headquarters.”  The stairs turned into a hallway heading off to the left and right, and Lady Mercy Song turned left, where Emberglow could hear the sounds of kitchen activity; metal utensils clicking off each other, pans being stirred, and ceramic bowls being filled.  Emberglow could smell the various things being cooked.  It hadn’t been long since she had eaten breakfast, but she inhaled deeply what smelled like stew being cooked by the Vigilants’ servants.

The kitchen was twice again as large as the kitchen at the campus.  There were at least a dozen ponies working over stoves, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, or tossing salads.  All were dressed in similar white pants and shirts, with aprons stained cheerfully with the literal fruits of the chefs’ labors.  The head chef, identified by the crown-like towering white cloth hat on his head, acknowledged Lady Mercy with a wave when she came in.

“You brought a helper?” the tall earth pony asked Lady Mercy as she walked over.  The Knight nodded.  “Good.  There’s over a dozen out there today.  Will be all weekend, I hear; most of the wretches are there for at least three days.  Your pots are ready, Lady.”  He guided them over to two modified pack saddles sitting alongside one of the walls.  On each side of the packsaddle was a large metal pot, with a lid.  The insides of the pack saddles appeared heavily padded.

“Let me help you two with those,” the chef said, as he lifted one of the saddles onto Lady Mercy’s back, helping her tighten the straps.  “Now the little one,” he said as he moved on to Emberglow, who, with a nod from Lady Mercy, stood still while the earth pony put the packsaddle on.  “I didn’t mush your wings, did I?  They feel comfortable?  Sorry, I don’t put many packsaddles on pegasi.”

“They’re fine, thanks,” Emberglow said.  In truth, they felt a little constricted, but she had never much struggled with the claustrophobia that sometimes struck pegasi who had their wings bound in any way.  She wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Good.  Come over here, the broth and ladles are ready for you,” the chef said.  Over on the largest of the stoves were two huge stock pots, filled with a wonderful smelling broth.  Very carefully, the chef took the lids off the smaller pots of the modified packsaddles, and with a large soup ladle, filled all four pots on both pony’s backs with warm broth.  Now Emberglow understood the additional padding; it was insulation to keep the pots from being too hot on the wearer’s sides.  Soon enough the pots were full of broth, and the chef attached a ladle and a large bowl to two small hooks on the sides of the packsaddles.

“You’re good to go.  Go bring holy sustenance to the criminal scum, my Ladies,” the chef said with a wave, and Lady Mercy inclined her head politely.

“That’s what we’re doing?  Feeding the criminals?” Emberglow asked.  She wasn’t shocked, but it was something she hadn’t thought about before; ponies who committed crimes were sometimes sentenced to days in the pillory, of course they would need to be fed something, if only to stave off dehydration.

“Yes.  Now Emberglow, you’ve been medically trained.  You know the symptoms of common ailments like dehydration, heat stroke, hyperthermia, shock, and other maladies?”

“Yes, my lady,” Emberglow said.  Lady Mercy nodded.

“Good.  Be aware of their condition as you feed them.  But feeding isn’t the only thing we’re there to do.  We’re also there to listen.”

“Listen?” Emberglow asked.

“Yes, to listen, and nothing more.  The convicted prisoners being punished are not allowed a confessor during their time of punishment, but we in the Radiant believe that speaking to another pony can help them unburden their soul of their sins.  They don’t even need to speak of their crimes; simply because they have been convicted does not mean they should be deprived of companionship.  We are truly walking in Lady Rarity’s footsteps, today.”

“But, Lady Mercy, what do I say to these ponies?” Emberglow asked nervously.

“Not much.  You ask if they wish to speak, and then you listen.  Ask questions about what they want to talk about, and don’t ask about their crimes unless they wish to speak on the subject.  If they wish silence, do not speak.  Do not, under any circumstances, say your own name or any details about who you are or your life.  This is for them to speak about themselves, let them do most of the talking, and you’ll do just fine,” Lady Mercy said.  “You must steel yourself, however.  Some ponies blame everypony except themselves for the consequences their own choices have brought them.  They may lash out with anger or bitterness.  You must rise above it; they are not truly angry at you, but at themselves for their own failings.  You mustn’t let anything anypony says here bother you.”

“Yes, Lady Mercy.  And how am I supposed to serve each pony?”

“You have a ladle and a bowl.  Each prisoner may have one bowlful, then when you are done, you move on to the next pony.  If any pony wishes to speak, we will spend time after each one has eaten to speak with them.  Some ponies in the crowd may heckle you as well, for what you’re doing.  Ignore them.”

“Yes, my lady.  Like Saint Rarity ignoring the jeers and criticism when she said each pony should be clothed.”

“Just so,” Lady Mercy said with a smile.  “Now let’s go, my little pony.”

Once they left the Hall of the Upright, Emberglow paid a little closer attention to the ponies in the pillories.  There were thirteen of them, a fairly even mix of mares and stallions, with two Knights in Vigilant orange armor watching over them.  The ponies varied in age, with one mare being wrinkled and greying, to a colt young enough that he had to be placed on a wooden crate in order to be tall enough to be locked in the pillory.  The only other oddity was that one stallion had been fitted with a muzzle, a tight cage of wire that went around his entire snout to prevent him from speaking.

“You begin on the north side, I’ll begin on the south.  If you need help, call on me or one of the Knights Vigilant on guard,” Lady Mercy Song said.  “While you are feeding them, look for symptoms of dehydration or other issues.”  The guards in question eyed them with a look that wasn’t quite hostile, but wasn’t quite friendly either.  Emberglow squared her shoulders and moved towards the first prisoner, a pegasus mare with a tan coat and orange mane.

“Hello,” Emberglow said as she approached the obviously uncomfortable prisoner.  The mare looked up at Emberglow with bright blue eyes, her expression pained, but said nothing.  Emberglow detached the bowl from its hook, set it on the ground in front of the pilloried mare, and ladled it full of broth.  When it was full, she lifted the bowl to the mare, holding it steady while began to lap up the meal with her tongue.  

“Thank you,” the mare whispered, after she had taken a few mouthfuls.  Emberglow nodded, but the mare said nothing more.  She finished the bowl after a few minutes, and nodded at the young page, who took that as a dismissal.  She moved on to the next prisoner, the young colt.  He was small, but he looked only a few years younger than Emberglow, perhaps as young as twelve.  She stopped in front of the colt, who refused to meet her eyes.  She filled the bowl again, and lifted it to the colt.  For a few agonizing seconds, the colt refused to eat; pain and humiliation were obvious in his gaze.

“Please, you need to eat,” Emberglow said, feeling a rush of compassion for the young stallion.  She didn’t know why he was here, but there was no reason for him to compound his own suffering.

“I want to die,” he whispered to her, and Emberglow gave out a little gasp.

“No pain is forever,” she said with a smile.  “You don’t need to hurt any more than you already are.  Please?” she pleaded.  Finally he lowered his head and began to lap at the broth.  “Thank you.”  She didn’t know why she was thanking him.  He looked at her then, their eyes meeting for an instant, and he nodded his silent gratitude before finishing his meal.  He also did not seem interested in speaking any more.

The third prisoner was a stallion, who looked up and smiled at Emberglow as she approached.

“Good afternoon, young lady,” he said.  After the first two prisoners, Emberglow was a little surprised that he initiated the conversation.

“Hello,” she said.  “Would you like some lunch?”

“Mmm, clear vegetable broth, my very favorite,” the stallion said.  “Does it come with my choice of bread?”  Emberglow laughed despite the situation, filling the bowl and raising it for the prisoner to eat.  He was an adult, perhaps in his mid-thirties.  He was the first that seemed interested in conversation, but Emberglow wasn’t sure how to begin.

“So...”

“Interesting that they’re letting pages feed us,” he said, clearly picking up on her awkwardness.  “It’s usually full Knights.”

“You’re in the pillory often enough to know what is usual?” she asked.  He nodded in between swallows.

“First and only time, actually, but this is my fourth day in this fine luxury resort.  The service has been excellent, but the beds are a bit stiff and uncomfortable.”

“How can you joke?  Do you not even take any of this seriously?  Whatever you did to wind up here?” Emberglow asked honestly surprised at the prisoner’s flippant attitude.

“Young lady, everything is a joke.  This pillory, these Knights, this entire country.  It’s all one… big… joke.  And us little ponies are the butt of it.  It’s called gallows humor.”

“Gallows humor?  But you’re not…” Emberglow gasped, suddenly realizing what the prisoner meant.

“Caught on, did you?  Yup, I’m here until Monday, when they’re gonna take me into a dark room in the Justice building with a rope hanging from the ceiling and a trapdoor in the floor and break my neck.  You’re talking to a dead pony, young lady.”

“Why?” Emberglow whispered, before she could stop herself.

“It all started so small, and innocently.  I caught my little brother in bed with another colt.  Intimately.  The right thing to do would have been to turn him into the confessor, right?  But I didn’t.  He was my little brother.  I loved him so much, we did everything together.  He was my little brother best friend forever; how could I be the one responsible for ruining his life?  So, instead of turning him in, we… talked.

“We talked about how he was born the way he was, it wasn’t a choice he had.  We talked about how little sense it made that the Diarchs would make him that way, but order him to be abstinent.  Why would they give us a law they had designed us to break?  We talked about his love, his devotion, how much he cared for his coltfriend.  How they wanted to spend a life together, be happy, have a family, raise foals… but were denied all of that.  So I found a way to help them escape.  We can’t trade letters, but as far as I know, he and his husband are living happily in the Free Zebrica Republic, now.

“But it wasn’t enough.  I knew I could help others escape this nightmare.  Did you know, if you wanted to just get up and leave the country, you can’t?  It’s against the law?  Sure, some escape, but there’s a law that stops any Equestrian from willingly emigrating to a foreign country.  So I used the contacts I had made helping my brother and his husband to help others.  Not just gay couples, but anypony who had doubts, anypony who had questions or issues with the Diarchy.  Anypony that didn’t fit the cookie cutter mold they try to force us into.  I’ve been doing this for ten years, young lady.  They only caught me a few weeks ago.”

Emberglow’s jaw had dropped as she listened to the prisoner’s story.  There had to be more to it than that, didn’t there?  There was no way simple pony smuggling could wind up with an execution.  It seemed… too much.  She was sure he was lying.

“I see what you’re thinking.  That’s fine.  I don’t expect you to believe me, but I am glad you were willing to listen.  Could you do me one favor, though?”  Emberglow nodded cautiously, suspiciously.

“If I can,” she replied with hesitation.

“I want to tell you my name.  The Diarchy wants us forgotten after we get executed.  Our loved ones are encouraged to forget about us, to pretend we never existed.  My parents disowned my brother a decade ago, and we haven’t spoken in five years.  They’ll be more than happy to forget me.  I’ll be a sack of rotting bones in an unmarked grave.  But…”

“What is your name?” Emberglow whispered.  The prisoner smiled.

“July Blaze, miss.  There’s not going to be a headstone at my grave, and nopony will care that I’m gone.  So if somepony could just remember my name, that would be nice.  It would make going to my execution a little more palatable.”

“I’ll remember, July Blaze,” Emberglow said.  July Blaze nodded, and smiled kindly at her.

“Sorry if I made you upset, miss.  It was not my intention.  Please, don’t let me keep you any longer,” he said.  

“Um, it’s okay.  Goodbye,” she said uncomfortably, not knowing what else to say.  She picked up the bowl and moved on to the next prisoner.

The next unfortunate criminal was a pegasus stallion.  She didn’t want to admit it, even to herself, but Emberglow was shaken by her conversation with July Blaze.  She tried not to think as she ladled some broth into the bowl, holding it up for the pegasus in the pillory.  Her eyes were distant, unfocused, as the pegasus leaned down wordlessly and began to lap up broth.  She didn’t notice when he stored a large mouthful of the warm soup in his cheeks, then violently spat it at her.

Emberglow let out a little scream as she was drenched in the mixture of warm soup and saliva.  She stumbled backwards, tripping and landing on her plot, the half full bowl.  She could feel the soup sloshing in the pots on her back.  The prisoner she was currently serving giggled, his mouth open lewdly, his tongue lolling out of his muzzle.

“Come back over here and I’ll lick it off,” he muttered at her.  Emberglow felt sick; she stared horrified at the prisoner, not even noticing when one of the guards came near and violently cuffed the pegasus with her hoof on the side of his head.  With a grunt, the prisoner slumped in the pillory, unconscious.

“Are you okay, miss?  Did he hurt you?” the Knight Vigilant guard asked her solicitously.  She reached out a hoof and helped Emberglow to her hooves.

“U-um, yeah, I’m okay.  N-no, he didn’t hurt me.  I’m f-fine,” Emberglow stammered, panting.  The Knight produced a handkerchief from inside her armor and gently helped wipe the liquid from Emberglow’s face.”

“Is everything okay?” Lady Mercy said, coming over to check on the disturbance.

“This plothole was just trying to earn himself another few days in the pillory, is all,” the Knight Vigilant said.  “Spat all over your young page here.”

“I’m fine,” Emberglow said, before Lady Mercy could ask.  “I was just distracted when it happened, is all.”

“We can stop, Emberglow, if you need to,” Lady Mercy said.

“I really am okay, it was just a shock,” Emberglow said.  “You told me I’d have to have a thick hide for this job, and I really do.  I was honestly just distracted and got caught off guard.  It won’t happen again.”

“Very well.  I’ll leave you to it then, Emberglow,” Lady Mercy said, returning to the mare she had been feeding, but not before giving the Knight Vigilant guard a significant look, and a nod that passed between the two Knight mares.  Emberglow took a few deep breaths to center herself, before moving on to the next prisoner.

The task took until well after lunch time, a fact that didn’t bother Emberglow in the slightest.  After each pony was fed, many took the time to talk with Emberglow, though none were as disturbing as July Blaze.  Emberglow wasn’t present when the guards had to remove the muzzle on the one stallion prisoner; Lady Mercy insisted on feeding him herself.  Emberglow wondered how dangerous he really was while pilloried, but she didn’t spend much time thinking of it.  When she ran out of soup and prisoners to feed, she took the packsaddle off and walked among the restrained prisoners, seeing if any others wanted to talk.  She learned that the grandmother looking mare was indeed a grandmother, and was only here for a six hour stay with her grandfoal, the young colt she had served earlier.  They were convicted of blasphemy; the young colt had accidentally spoken the name of one of the Diarchs aloud, and his grandmother, as the responsible adult, had insisted on sharing his punishment.  It hurt, Emberglow realized.  She felt pain for these poor ponies.  Even though their own choices had led them here, she felt miserable that they had to go through it all.

Emberglow and Lady Mercy were still there when the guards, checking their pocket watches, trotted over and released the latches on the pillory holding the older grandmother and her young grandfoal.  While there wasn’t always a Radiant on hand when a prisoner was released, Lady Mercy Song still insisted on being able to check over the two prisoners before they were escorted back into the Hall of the Upright to retrieve their own clothing and change out of the burlap prisoner uniforms they had been forced to wear in the pillory.  Emberglow nearly wept with both relief and sadness when the colt had to be helped down from the wooden crate, stumbling on legs too stiff to hold his own weight.

It was with a hung head that she followed Lady Mercy Song back to the dormitories.

“Was it too much for you?” Lady Mercy asked, as they neared Emberglow’s new home.  Emberglow shook her head.

“No.  It was hard.  Brutally hard.  But somepony has to show them kindness, right?  Otherwise, how could they have hope?” Emberglow said, having the epiphany as she spoke it out loud.

“’Generosity is the beginning of hope,’” Lady Mercy quoted.  “’When we share love, we are never diminished’.”

“Yeah…” Emberglow said, recognizing the scripture reference.  It was a quote from Saint Rarity.

“The most difficult kind of generosity requires sacrifice.  Following truly in Lady Rarity’s hoofsteps often requires us to bleed for the ponies around us, sometimes metaphorically, like today, and sometimes literally.  Remember that, young Emberglow.”

“I will, my lady,” she said.  They paused at the doors to the dormitory.  “Thank you so much for taking me today.”  She truly meant what she said; though her eyes were still wet from unshed tears, she knew this was an experience she would treasure for years.  “I’m willing to help next time, if you still want me.”  Lady Mercy Song smiled at her, proudly.

“You will truly be one of the best of us, someday,” she whispered at the younger pony, reaching out with a hoof to gently touch Emberglow’s cheek and wipe away a tear.  “Goodnight, Emberglow.  All Saints keep you.”
> Interlude: Dark Words Fly Across the Ocean
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: Dark Words Fly Across the Ocean


The sun was a complete plothole, Iodine Mark thought.  

It didn’t matter that he’d been here in Zebrica almost ten years; no matter how long he lived here, no matter how acclimated he became, he would never be quite used to the intensity of the sun.  Despite that, Iodine was nearly convinced that it was time to paint a symbolic stripe on his flanks like so many of the other Equestrian expatriates living in Jubilation.  It was a sign of going native, a full renunciation of one’s Diarchy heritage, and a common sight in the oasis city.  

City was a pretty strong word for the port town of Jubilation; Iodine still remembered New Canterlot City, and was fairly certain that about two dozen of the zebra merchant hubs would have fit inside the grand, extravagant Diarchy capitol.  Iodine didn’t care about the size, however.  He loved Jubilation dearly, except for the Celestia-blasted sun!

Iodine had to admit he was becoming accustomed to the sun, even though he would never be as acclimated as a native.  Indeed, he often saw native zebras looking sympathetically at his coat, the color of which had inspired his name.  Its blue-black hue was quite handsome, at least according to his husband, but it didn’t do him many favors when the sun was beating down on them like some sort of hellish sky oven.  He had quickly taken to wearing full body robes, made of white cloth, like several of the zebras.  While it seemed ridiculous to wear more clothing when it got hotter, the white linen kept the sun from overheating his dark coat and literally killing him with heatstroke.  

Iodine absolutely adored the Jubilation markets, the chaos, the bustle, and the cacophony of a half dozen different languages being shouted by a half dozen different kinds of creatures, all mixing together, flying about, arguing, greeting, bartering, insulting, complimenting, and living.  

It was a sharp contrast to his life as a foal back in the Diarchy.  His dad had been a high ranking bureaucrat, working for the civil government, and his mother had been a secretary for a confessor; they had never bothered to shop in an open air market, bartering like common ponies.  They had shopped exclusively in high class boutiques and organic food cooperatives.  They would never have been caught dead in such a bright and colorful place.  Iodine could count cloth awnings and tarps, in at least a hundred different colors, covering dozens of stalls selling food, jewelry, pottery, books, and everything else under the sun.

The horrible, awful, evil, rude sun.

The sellers were just as varied as their wares. Most of them were zebras, but there were also plenty of ponies, griffins, a minotaur or two, and even a crystal pony, a creature so rare that Iodine had only ever met three.  Zebra police officers, carrying rifles resting on their shoulders, patrolled the market, keeping the peace with mostly their presence alone.  Iodine had to stop himself from flinching with fear when he saw the officers.  It had taken years for Iodine to get used to the armed guards; the officers here were not the symbols of oppression and bigotry that the Knights back home had become.  

Shaking himself from his reminiscence, Iodine moved towards a particular stall; he had errands to run, but breakfast came first.

“Iodine!  My favorite ink blot!  The usual?” a griffon hen called out to him from behind the table of her appetizing-smelling wares, her Ponish heavily accented.  There was a mix of fresh baked scones laid out on trays set on hot pads, sitting on the covered wooden table.  Behind the griffon was a wood-fired stone oven.  Waves of heat, completely unbearable in this weather, blasted from the open end of the oven.  Iodine couldn’t understand how the griffon could stand to be so close to the fire all day in this heat, but he also couldn't argue with the deliciousness of the scones she produced.  Given the volume she sold, neither could anypony else.

“That depends, Brunhilda.  Did you add meat this time?” he asked, with raised eyebrows.

“The pony insults me!” Brunhilda protested.  “When have I ever added meat to my world famous griffon scones?”

“Last Tuesday.  Three Saturdays ago.  Last month, when you ‘accidentally’ ran out of nuts and raisins and made your mincemeat out of… ugh… real meat.”  He shivered at the memory.  He’d almost taken a bite before Brunhilda had confessed her trickery.

“It was a joke!  I would never really…”

“Brunhilda, please don’t tease me.  Just tell me if there’s meat-free scones today, so I can move on with my life.  And my shopping trip,” Iodine sighed.  The griffon rolled her eyes, being deprived of one of her favorite pastimes of tormenting the dark coated pony.

“No meat, Mister Iodine.  Not today.  I swear on my feathers and claws.”

“Well enough,” Iodine nodded.  “I’ll take four.  Two almond, two blueberry.”  He handed over four bits, and Brunhilda handed him a paper sack, stuffed with his scones.  He put the paper bag in his saddlebags.

“Tell your husband I said hello.  And sorry for the teasing about bugs in his last scones.  They were raisins, I swear.”

Iodine shook his head at the griffon hen, moving on to his next stops.  He was looking for something special for his husband today.  Their anniversary was coming up, and Iodine wanted to cook something amazing.  He’d found an ancient copy of an old Prench cookbook in the market last week, and had been fascinated by something he had found inside called ‘ratatouille’.  The ingredient list was simple enough.  Iodine moved through the market, bargaining with various zebras and ponies for the eggplant, mushrooms, tomatoes, garlic, peppers, onions, and zucchinis he would need.  The trip took only a half hour, before a new stall he’d never seen before caught his eye.

The pony running the stall was a crystal pony mare.  She was light blue, with a smooth purple mane.  She was wearing a gorgeous dress, horribly ill-suited to the heat and clearly marking her a newcomer.  Her stall was made of brand new wood, and her wares were bolts of cloth, beautifully dyed.  He approached out of curiosity.

“Good morning.  Long life to the Empress, and her daughter,” he said formally to the crystal pony in greeting.  She looked at him in surprise; Iodine Mark imagined it was rare for ponies to know the social cues and mores of other cultures besides their own.  He had always believed it to be useful to learn as much about other cultures as he could, including traditional methods of greeting.  He didn’t personally understand the crystal ponies’ religion, or how they seemed to worship their ‘Empress’ and ‘Princess’, while at the same time not worshiping them, but it often helped in bartering when you left a good impression on the merchant before the bargaining even began.

“You… you’re not a crystal pony,” she said, shocked, before appearing to realize her unintentional rudeness.  “Oh, yes, and long life and warmth from the snows to you, as well.”

“I noticed you were new to the market.  Is this your first time in Jubilation?” he asked, politely.  The mare nodded.

“Yes, I recently arrived.  The city is… not what I expected,” the mare said, then glanced at him with a panicked expression.  “Not that this is a bad thing!  It’s just hotter than I thought it would be.”  He laughed at the sentiment, so similar to his own.

“You’re not wrong.  I’ve lived here ten years, and I’ve never gotten used to it,” Iodine said.  He held out his hoof for her to shake.  “Iodine Mark.  My husband Bolero and I live near the marketplace, so we’re here often.”

“I am Fine Thread.  So you’re not a native?  Husband…” She thought about that for a moment, then gasped.  “Are you… a refugee from the Diarchy?”  There was a kind of horrified fascination in her voice at the mention of the Crystal Empire’s southern neighbors.

“Not a refugee any longer, actually.  Bolero and I are full citizens of the Republic.  Their citizenship process is pretty gentle, especially for expatriates of the Diarchy.”  He understood her confusion; the centuries-old magical barrier in place protecting the Empire from the Diarchy was as strong as it was mysterious; there was no traffic or communication between the neighbors, despite their physical proximity.

“Sorry if I offended,” Fine Thread said, her shoulders slumping.

“Not at all,” Iodine said gently.  “So, what brings you to Jubilation?”  The inquiry served to perk up the shy seeming mare.

“My sister is a cloth dyer, and we’re looking to expand into new markets.  Like this one.  So I volunteered to act as her seller in the Zebrican Republic.  Today is my third day.”

“And how is business so far?” he asked, rifling through the bolts of cloth.  He wasn’t idly browsing; Bolero had said they needed new curtains for when the autumn came, and the cool sea breezes became too uncomfortable for open windows.

“Wonderful!  Everypony… er… every… uh… creature has been so nice,” she stammered, nervously stumbling over the terminology.  “I’ve sold tons of bolts already.  Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

“I need some material for new curtains, actually.  And what kind of material is this?” he asked, his eyes drawn to a glistening, shimmering violet fabric.

“We call that Empire silk.  It’s made from silkworms that live exclusively in the crystal berry plants that are native to the empire.  It’s nice, right?  But not good for curtains,” she replied.

“Yeah, I figured that.  I was thinking more for a new house robe for my husband,” Iodine said, running his hooves over the material.  Bolero would love the feel of it.  Iodine would love to feel Bolero while wearing it… he shook his head before his imaginings could become too lewd, but not before Fine Thread noticed his blush and giggled.  “How much would I need?”

The two ponies began haggling in earnest, and Iodine Mark realized that though Fine Thread was shy while interacting socially, she was a shrewd demon when it came to a bargain.  No wonder she was doing well.  After fifteen minutes of haggling back and forth, Iodine not only had enough material for their new curtains, but also enough Empire silk for two house robes, one violet and one a deep emerald that Fine Thread simply insisted would go amazingly with Iodine’s inky coat.  He’d spent quite a bit more than he’d intended, but overall was quite pleased with his purchases.  He dropped the cloth off at his favorite tailor shop before returning home with his fresh vegetables.

By the time Iodine got home, however, he felt like a mess.  Even with his robes deliberately designed to stave off heat, he was practically lathered in a sweat.  His single story home, constructed of adobe, had large open windows and wide roofs, specifically designed to invite as much breeze and shade as possible into the dwelling.  He pushed the door open into the shaded interior and stepped through the front door into the kitchen of the home he shared with Bolero.

“Boo,” said a soft voice right at his ear.

Iodine couldn’t help himself; he launched into the air at least three inches, spinning to face the impishly grinning maw of his yellow-coated husband.  

“You… you complete brat!” Iodine stammered mock indignantly, holding back a smile.  He shook his hoof at his husband, and Bolero promptly caught the limb in his own hooves and kissed it.  It instantly evaporated Iodine’s frustration at Bolero’s startling greeting, which was further alleviated when his husband began nuzzling him, their cheeks rubbing against each other in loving affection, before helping Iodine out of his saddlebags.  

“You left before I woke up.  Did you bring breakfast?”

“Brunhilda’s scones!  They’re really blueberry this time,” Iodine promised.  “I checked.”

“You are a sexy stallion,” Bolero purred as he retrieved the bag of breakfast from his husband’s saddlebags.  He set the bag down on their kitchen table, leaning over to kiss Iodine on the cheek.

“Don’t, I’m all sweaty and gross,” Iodine mumbled, loving the feel of his lover’s lips on his coat.  Bolero moved to nibble at his ear, giving it a teasing lick.

“I don’t mind sweat,” Bolero whispered, his hot breath teasing at Iodine’s sensitive ear, which flicked involuntarily.  Bolero laughed, backing away for a moment.  “There’s a letter for you on the table.  It came from Golden Willow.”

Oh.  That meant it was important.  Golden Willow was a Knight Discordant, one of the freedom fighters who still worked in Equestria to undermine the Diarchy and the other Knight orders.  Golden was a friend of his brother’s, and the only rare point of contact between Iodine and July Blaze.  He moved over to the letter, inspecting it. It was marked only with his name, and sealed with a wax seal in the shape of a butterfly.  Nervously, he broke the seal and unrolled the letter, scanning the brief note.  

No.  It was impossible.  It was wrong.  There was no way…  the words became more and more blurry, before suddenly the letter was moved away from his hooves and he was buried in yellow fur, crushed against his lover and husband’s chest as Bolero held him.

“He could have come.  He could have been safe.  He could have lived here, with us.  With me.  Why did he stay?  Celestia damn it, Bolero!  Why did my brother have to be a bucking hero!?”

His hoof pounded against his husband’s chest as he sobbed, his body shaking as the other stallion held him tightly.  Iodine could tell that Bolero was reading the brief note as well, and he could feel the other stallion’s sobs as Bolero also wept for Iodine’s big brother.  

“Ten years, he’s been helping ponies like us,” Bolero said, his voice rough.  “I’m sorry.  I had no idea what the letter was.  I wish…”

“Could we have done something?  Said something to stop him, make him come over the ocean with us?” Iodine asked, and felt Bolero’s head shake.

“That’s not the kind of pony he was,” Bolero said.  “You know the stallion he was.  So brave.  So noble.”

“The letter… it said he’d be buried in an unmarked grave.  That’s… that’s not right.  We need to do something.  A memorial, or a shrine.  My parents won’t give a buck, so we have to do something.  Do you… do you mind?”

“A shrine to immortalize the hero who gave us our life together?  Who made it possible for me to spend my life with my true love?”  Bolero held out his husband, looking Iodine straight in the eye.  “Why would I mind?  I’m going to compose a song in his honor.  No… an entire symphony.  For as long as my music is played, nopony will ever forget the name July Blaze.”  He kissed his husband firmly on the lips, and the two of them settled into a comforting embrace, weeping softly for the stallion they had lost forever.
> Chapter 6
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 6


Recording of a Radio Free Equestria broadcast, taken 1109 AF.  Listening to, recording, or possession of so-called ‘pirate radio’ broadcasts are to be considered an act of heresy and will be punished accordingly.

“Hello, folks, you’re listening to Radio Free Equestria, New Canterlot City’s best and only-est pirate radio station.  I’m Cutting Wave, your resident heretic voice and all around friendly truth teller.  We’re so glad you found the frequency, as it changes every time you listen!  We’re here to bring you the Truth, only the Truth, with an extra helping of… you guessed it, folks… TRUTH.

	“Tonight’s broadcast is gonna focus on the little cluster buck of a train wreck that was the broadcast of our ‘sister station’, EVOD one oh three point nine from two nights ago.  Wow.  Where do I even begin?  Reeducation camp in Zebrica?  What kind of messed up horseapples is that?  Zebras don’t need anything the Diarchy has to offer, folks.  In fact, we could probably use a lot of zebra education over here.

“And the village they captured?  More horseapples.  See, I just found out the facts, and turns out that the little ‘village’ our soldiers captured over there was nothing more than a half dozen zebras trying to caravan some expats to Jubilation.  Doesn’t make it any less of a tragedy, folks, to have poor zebras being chained up by some colonialist bastards who wanna shove them in a torture camp somewhere, but it’s not really the big victory they're claiming.  

"There were three ponies travelling with them, a mom, her daughter, and her daughter in law.  Yup, one of those arrests.  We have no idea where you are, Sunny Grain, Grape Soda, and Helix Swirl, but we’ll keep an eye out, and hope you can get away.  If not, your names will go in the Book of Remembrance just like every other pony we know the damned Diarchy has tortured and murdered for being different.

“Second, what the buck were they talking about, capturing two Discordant?  The big stallion says that it’s all fake.  Want proof?  That sort of thing would be all over the papers.  Where are the pictures?  Where are the public trials, the humiliation, the strait jackets and muzzles for the ‘dangerous heretic Knights’?  You can bet your fuzzy butts that if the Diarchy really had captured a Discordant alive, they’d parade the sorry pony in front of literally everypony they could find.

	“Last of all, that bit of horseapples about Shady Pine.  Folks, Shady Pine wasn’t one of us.  It’s too late now; the poor stallion’s already been black bagged.  Nopony knows where he is.  He wasn’t passing us information, who in the buck cares about ‘confessor’s secrets’?  What was he passing, notes on which noblestallion is rutting which noblemare?  Who cares?  Besides, he wasn’t an agent anyways, he was just literally in the wrong place at the wrong time, and some incompetent Mystic plothole decided his superiors were getting impatient with his or her lack of progress on a case, looking for a real mole, so he just found some sort of scapegoat.  It boils my blood.  Well, Shady Pine’s going in the Book of Remembrance, too.  Sorry it happened, sir.  My condolences go out to his family, and if any of you are listening, please get out of the City.  The further you are from the capital the safer.

	“In other news, the big stallion says that recruitment to the Discordant is going better than ever.  Last week seven more ponies joined the ranks of Equestria’s real protectors, and our well wishes and hopes go out with them.  We’re still outnumbered a fifty to one, but we’ve got the Truth on our side, and TRUTH ALWAYS WINS.  That’s it for our little broadcast tonight ponies, we hope you enjoyed yourselves, and as always, stay safe, stay low, and STAY AWAKE.

	“The cipher for next week’s frequency will follow.”

1109 AF, Ivy Seminary, New Canterlot City

	For some reason, Sir Sablebeard seemed annoyed at his students.  Emberglow couldn’t understand why.  After four months of teaching theory and memorization, he was now going to be teaching the pages the beginnings of basic rune casting.  

She was sure there wasn’t a single page who had slept well last night; she herself had lain awake in anticipation for hours.  The faculty seemed to understand what a momentous day this was, as well; when the sleepless ponies had shuffled in for their morning breakfast, several extra pots of coffee were already prepared for them.  The other faculty members seemed to be at least partially as excited as the students; most of their classes had hinted at some sort of practical employment of rune magic.  Lady Amaranth had said they would begin working on basic shield spells during their sparring, and Sir Heavenseeker had hinted that their final history project may need to be delivered via illusion spells, not a traditional essay.  Only Sir Sablebeard had seemed grumpy about the whole thing when he had announced the class’ impending practical lesson with the tone a pony might use reading the obituary of a particularly boring slug.

Nopony seemed to notice, or even care, that there was one broken bulb in their otherwise glittering strand of cheerful, twinkling lights.  Emberglow couldn’t even guess why Sir Sablebeard was so grumpy about practical instruction in his subject; wasn’t a working knowledge of runic spellcasting the end goal of his lessons?  Oh well, it wasn’t as if his foul mood was going to change what they were learning about.

When Emberglow and the other students arrived at their first practical rune magic class, they found a small hinged wooden box on each desk.  Sir Sablebeard sat at the front of the class, dressed in his own polished orange armor.  While the chalkboard in his classroom was usually full of whatever runes he wanted to speak about that week, now there was only a single phrase.  ‘DON’T TOUCH THE BOX UNTIL INSTRUCTED.’  It was a necessary sign; every pony in the room seemed to be chomping at the bit to see what was inside the mystery box.  When it was time for class to begin, Sir Sablebeard addressed his students.

“Now as you all may have heard, the authorities at this school have determined that now is the time to begin your practical rune magic instruction,” Sir Sablebeard intoned.  “Rune casting is a very precise and very delicate art.  It takes will and focus.  Amateurs and idiots are likely to make mistakes that will hurt themselves, or even destroy property.”  He sighed.  “Every year I try to get them to push back the date, and every year they say no.  And every year, I have to patch up a giant hole in my wall, or scrape some poor pony’s innards off my ceiling.  Since you lot are only as competent as everypony else I’ve ever trained, I expect to be sending at least three of you to the infirmary today.  Just today!  Saints above, please give me the time when it slows down to only one a week…” The instructor rubbed his forehead wearily with a hoof.  “Maybe if just this once, everypony listens to me and follows my instructions WITH EXACTNESS, it won’t be one of you that I send to the Knights Radiant to put back together.  Now.  You may lift open the lids of your box.  Only lift open the lids.”

Several of Emberglow’s classmates muttered impatiently at the rate Sablebeard was taking the class, but so far, every pony only opened the lids of their boxes. Emberglow opened her own box and peered in. Inside was a strange metal cube shaped apparatus with a cylindrical hole in the middle.  The cube was attached via three cords wound together to what looked like a long, thin shoe.  A cylinder, separate from the linked apparatus, also rested within the box.

“What you see before you is a basic rune casting gauntlet, attached to its power source.  If any of you pages ever manage to make it out of training, your Knight armor will have one of these devices built into either your right or left hoof armor, depending on your preference.  These larger, clumsier models are much less portable, but much cheaper to manufacture, making them ideal for instructing students.  Keep in mind that cheaper doesn’t mean cheap; every single one of these units still costs enough to feed you for about three months.  So be careful.

“Also in the box is a spell battery.  Please carefully lift the spell battery out of the box.  Do not drop it, and do not touch the gauntlet or the power source.  You may rest the battery on your desk, gem side up.”

Having been at least partially cowed by Sir Sablebeard’s speech about scraping pony innards off the ceiling, each student very slowly lifted the spell battery out of the box with their hooves.  Each battery was a cylinder, about as long as a pony’s ear, and the diameter of a bit coin.  On one side were five gems; three of them were green, one was yellow, and the last was red.  On the bottom of the cylinder were two narrow, short metal prongs.  On Emberglow’s cylinder, the red and yellow gems were illuminated with a magical glow, while the green gems were dull and inert.  

“Now, can anypony tell me what the gems indicate?” Sir Sablebeard asked.  For a brief moment everypony stared at their instructor.  He had never before asked anypony a question in his class; it had always been lecture and only lecture.  “Well?  You can’t all be asleep, I thought you ponies were excited for this.”  Finally, a few hoofs rose hesitantly into the air, including Emberglow’s.

“You there, pink filly,” he said, pointing at Emberglow, and she realized with some surprise that Sir Sablebeard had never bothered to learn their names.

“Sir, the gems tell you how much magical energy is stored in the battery,” she said.  She’d read the entire class textbook when it had become clear that Sir Sablebeard’s teaching methods were next to worthless for her.

“Do you know the proper terminology, or are you satisfied using unscientific language like ‘magical energy’?” he sneered.  She nodded.

“Yes sir.  Spells are powered by ‘motes’, a somewhat abstract unit of measurement that approximates the amount of energy required to cast a spell.  While it is difficult to measure motes, it is possible to estimate and approximate them, and the batteries are designed to keep track of the amount of motic energy the battery has remaining.”

“…There might be some hope for you lot,” Sir Sablebeard said.  “The pink pony is right.  When you hold a spell battery, the lights on the outside are illuminated according to the approximate amount of motic energy that remains within the battery.  The more motes that are used, the more lights dim and disappear.  Green is for fuller batteries, and a battery in the red is nearly depleted.  Over time, you will get a feel for which spells can be cast with how much motic energy.”  He sighed.  “Next question.  How is a spell battery filled?”  Several other hooves shot into the air, more quickly this time.  Sir Sablebeard pointed at another student.  “You there, green stallion.”

“The spell battery is filled over time, from the ambient magical… um… motic energy that permeates all of Equestria.  Batteries can fill faster in some places than others.”

“Nice save, green stallion,” Sir Sablebeard noted with narrowed eyes.  “He is correct.  The time frame for filling a spell battery is fairly long; a completely empty battery the size of the ones in your hooves can take as much as a month to fill.  Always remember: motic energy is a resource to be used sparingly, and only when needed.  Magic is not for frivolous uses or silliness.”

“Now, please very carefully remove the power source and gauntlet from the box.  Do not put it on yet.   Each of you will decide which hoof to attach your gauntlet to; choose your dominant hoof, the one you use primarily to eat or write.  Carefully loosen the buckles so you will be able to attach the gauntlet, and move the empty box off your desk carefully underneath, and out of the way.”

Emberglow could feel the collective groan building from all the students at the overly detailed, overly cautious instruction method.  She felt her own impatience bubbling, boiling just below the surface of her thoughts as she picked up the gauntlet and power source, loosening the buckles as instructed.

“Now, place your chosen hoof in the gauntlet and tighten the buckles.  If you can’t see how, I will be over to assist you.  The spell gauntlets are not powered just yet, but they are expensive, so please be careful.  Also, though I realize you ponies may not think it, I do care about your safety and wellbeing, more than any other concern here today.  If at any point in time I say ‘stop, hooves on desk’, I need everypony to rest their gauntleted hoof on their desk and not move it until I give permission.  Are we understood?”

A unison chorus of ‘yes sir’ floated through the classroom.  Emberglow looked at the arrangement of the two buckles on the gauntlet.  It would be easy enough to don.  She slid her hoof into the apparatus, feeling the padded interior shielding her hoof from the metallic shell.  

“Now, as you have heard from me before, if you bothered to listen, spellcasting takes willpower, concentration, focus, and intent.  Because of the wonders of rune magic, the intent of a spell comes automatically, supplied by the runes we choose to draw.  While we are casting the same spells that a unicorn could with his or her horn, we do not have to shape the spell with our own intentions.  This means that there is no chance of a rune spell getting out of control in unexpected or unfortunate ways.  This doesn’t preclude a miscast; using incorrect or improperly drawn runes can still result in unfortunate magical occurrences.

“We do have to worry about willpower, concentration, and focus.  Lose your concentration on a spell, and the motic energy simply dissipates, lost forever.  Lose your focus and you may draw the runes incorrectly, causing a spell failure, or perhaps even a disastrous miscast.  Willpower is simply the mental command for the spell to shape itself, and complete.  If you do not will a spell into effect, no amount of rune drawing will create a result.  It may seem obvious, but you have to intentionally cast a spell in order for it to work.”

Sir Sablebeard walked over to the chalkboard, erasing the warning from earlier.  He wrote three runes on the board; it was a combination nopony in the room had ever seen before, though they had memorized the individual runes in class weeks previous.

“I am writing a simple spell on the board right now.  It is a completely worthless spell; it will do nearly nothing, other than summoning a coin-sized magical orb the color of your manes, floating in the air above you.  It doesn’t even shed light, and the orb will pop like a soap bubble if touched.  It has been designed merely as a safe way for beginners to practice rune magic.  Take a moment to look at the runes, think about them, then lift your gauntleted hoof in the air and practice writing them in front of you.

“But sir, without the battery inserted nothing will happen,” one of the students complained.  Sir Sablebeard glared at him.

“That’s the point.  Now do as I said.”

Emberglow imagined that all the pages felt just as ridiculous as she did, waving their hooves worthlessly in the air in front of them in a vague pattern.  Sir Sablebeard wandered around the classroom, watching their efforts with a stern look, correcting sloppy rune drawing when he could catch it.  After about ten silly minutes of this, Sir Sablebeard had made his way to the front of the class.

“Now everypony stop,” he said, and the students complied.  “Very carefully, with your free hoof, insert your battery prong-side down into the power source.  A latch on the power source will secure the battery in place.  Do not move your gauntleted hoof just yet.”

With a little trepidation, Emberglow picked up the battery and inserted it into the power source. She found the latch and flipped it over, securing the battery in place.  It felt a little awkward to do all this one-hoofed, and with her left hoof even, but she was determined to follow instructions strictly.  

“Very well.  Now that we’ve…”

Sir Sablebeard was interrupted by a loud explosion, followed by a scream and a crash.  Dust filled the room as a pony in the back of the class was thrown violently against the wall, her gauntlet cords ripped forcibly out of the power source as the pony they were attached to was catapulted across the room.

“Stop!  Hooves on desk!” Sir Sablebeard called out loudly but calmly as he ran over to the downed student.  It was Astrolabe.  She was moving, moaning and coughing as she shifted on the pile of paint chips and masonry on the floor.  The wall was intact, but there was a sizeable dent left where the mare had impacted.  “Purple pony, are you okay?”  Astrolabe moaned, and Sir Sablebeard quickly lifted his hoof, drawing three runes in the air. 

“You have no broken bones, but a minor concussion.  Somepony willing to walk purple pony here to the infirmary?”  Nopony seemed to want to miss their first chance at practical rune casting, so the room was silent for a moment.  Emberglow nearly raised her hoof; somepony had to do it, even if Astrolabe was an evil witch.  But just as her hoof started to twitch, Green Fields spoke up.

“I’ll walk her down, sir,” Green Fields volunteered.

“Good, thank you, light green pony.  Be sure to remove your gauntlet, some other student will put it away if you don’t get back in time.  See if the nurses will send somepony down so that they’re immediately on hand if something happens again.  It always does,” Sir Sablebeard said with a resigned sigh.

Green Fields rushed over to her friend and helped Astrolabe stumble shakily to her hooves.  Once they were gone, Sir Sablebeard addressed the class.

“Now, does anypony know what happened?”  He was met with blank stares to his query.  He nodded.  “I didn’t see the event myself, but I’ve been teaching ponies like you for decades, so I can guess.  Your rune gauntlet is activated by will.  That means, when you choose to turn it on, it turns on.  It’s like a light switch in your brain; you have to consciously decide to start writing, otherwise the gauntlet is like an expensive metal sock.  My guess is that purple pony was thinking about rune casting so much that she accidentally activated the gauntlet and miscast a spell, which caused a small explosion.”

Small explosion?  The classroom erupted in whispered murmurs, each pony suitably awed and a little frightened at the dangerous tools they had strapped to their hooves.  Almost two dozen sets of ears were firmly pointed at their teacher now, though several pairs of eyes kept drifting over to the pony-sized dent in the wall.

“Now, somepony will be by to fix the wall later, so we needn’t be too concerned about that for now.  We’ll start off with a demonstration.”  Sir Sablebeard lifted his hoof, and like before, began writing a rune in midair.  As he wrote, the tip of the gauntlet’s hoof glowed, trailing soft white light.  The students’ gazes were fixed on the gentle glow as it formed the same runes that Sir Sablebeard had written on the board.  As soon as all three runes were written in the air, they hovered for a split second before disappearing.  An instant later, a small black orb, the size of a coin, appeared in the air above Sir Sablebeard’s head.  

“For those of you who care about history, this spell is called Star Shine’s Training Orb.  It has been literally used for centuries to train would-be Knights such as yourselves.  Now, we’re not going to try all at once, because there’s just too many of you to keep an eye on at the same time.  So, we’ll do it by desk columns.  You five are up first,” he motioned to the first column of desks, and five nervous ponies looked up.  “Lift your gauntlets, will them on, and write the runes on the board.  ONLY the runes on the board.”

Emberglow could see a few nervous gulps as the ponies did as he asked.  Each pony wrote much more slowly than Sir Sablebeard, but soon enough five sets of glowing white runes appeared in the air in front of the five ponies.  When they were done, however, only three colorful orbs appeared in the air above their heads.

“You two,” Sir Sablebeard said to the ponies who had failed the spell as they looked above their heads with confusion.  “Did you become distracted?  Lose focus on what you were doing?”  He was given two nervously ashamed nods.  “Try again, just you two.  And remember, if you get distracted, the spell will probably fail to shape.”  The two of them tried again, and one blue orb appeared in over one of their heads.  The last pony finally managed on his third try.

“Very good.  Next column,” Sir Sablebeard said, moving to the column that included Lofty Tale in its front.  Lofty looked terrified.

“You got this,” Emberglow said softly.  Lofty nodded, but didn’t look her way, his ears pinned back and his eyes locked on the tip of his gauntlet.

“Begin,” Sir Sablebeard said, and the next group of ponies lifted their hooves in the air and began to draw.  This time three of the four ponies in this column managed the small colored sphere above their heads; Lofty was the only pony who had to go a second time.  Blushing at the embarrassment at having singled himself out, he hesitated before lifting his gauntlet a second time.

“Just do it, boy,” Sir Sablebeard almost growled.  Shakily, Lofty nodded and began to write, the white glow appearing before him in the air. Soon enough, a black orb appeared in the air above Lofty Tale.  Emberglow couldn’t help herself; she clapped her hooves together for her friend.  Nopony else applauded, though, so Emberglow stopped after a moment, a little embarrassed.  It was all worth it when Lofty grinned at her, though.  

“Congratulations, you’re all vaguely competent,” Sir Sablebeard announced blandly.  “Moving on.”

When Sir Sablebeard moved in front of her group, Emberglow didn’t feel nervous, she felt elated.  She looked over at Lofty, who was wearing an encouraging smile, and smiled back.

“Begin,” Sir Sablebeard commanded.  Emberglow thought about her gauntlet.  Just like Sir Sablebeard had said, she willed it to begin working.  She immediately recognized that the analogy of a light switch was a good one; as soon as she had focused her thoughts into the gauntlet, she could feel it come to life.  It wasn’t a pulse or a vibration, more like a sixth sense; she knew the gauntlet was on, and she could feel the metal hoof piece as if it were a piece of her body. The metal contours, the padding inside, and every edge of the gauntlet felt as if it had nerves, just like her own body.  

She lifted her hoof in the air, and wrote the three runes.  As soon as Emberglow began writing, she felt a building sensation.  It was like a pressure on her mind; not unpleasant, but odd.  The more lines of the runes she wrote, the further the pressure built.  She finished the curves and points of the three runes, and suddenly the pressure leapt within her, asking to be set free.  She realized she could hold onto it if she wished, but had no reason to, letting the building energy of the spell rip free.  Before anypony else in her column, a red orb flickered to life in the air above her head.  Emberglow heard a clopping of hooves from next to her; she looked and saw Lofty returning her applause from earlier.  She gave him a grin.

“That was quick, pink pony,” Sir Sablebeard said.  That was odd; the dour Knight never really complimented any students.  Then again, he usually didn’t interact with students in any way, so maybe it wasn’t that odd.  Emberglow looked back at the others in her column.  This time, nopony missed the runes on the first try, with each student in the column having a colored orb above their heads.  “Next group.  Begin.”

The fourth group had three ponies that had to retry.  Right as Sir Sablebeard was about to order the three to begin again, there was a scream from the other side of Lofty.  One of the ponies in the first group, a grey earth pony stallion, was suspended in midair, surrounded by a green sparkling aura.  He jerked and twisted in the air, his hooves pawing fruitlessly against the nothingness around him.  His power source was still attached to his gauntlet, and it too was lifted off the ground, dangling from the cords that connected it to the gauntlet.  The grey stallion’s panicked shouts and panting breath drew the attention of everypony in the classroom.

“Stop!  Hooves on desk!” Sir Sablebeard shouted, running over to the suspended stallion.  Once again, Sir Sablebeard’s gauntlet lit up the air, and Emberglow watched with awe as the instructor quickly sketched not three, but five runes in the air in the time it had taken her to draw one.  The white runes disappeared, followed by a pulse of red light radiating from Sir Sablebeard’s gauntlet.  As the red light bounced against the green aura that held the whimpering stallion in its grip, the green light faded.  With each pulse, the light faded more, until finally disappearing.  The stallion lowered slowly to the ground, collapsing onto his stomach as soon as his twitching hooves hit the floor.

“Mental discipline is a MUST for rune casting,” Sir Sablebeard said.  “Grey stallion, are you unharmed?”  The stallion stood up, carefully sitting back down at his desk, his face flushed with shame.

“I-I’m fine, sir.  No injuries.”

“You are well enough to continue the lesson?”

“Um… yes sir,” the stallion said.

“Good.  Last group.  Everypony remember, the gauntlet is activated by willpower.  If you don’t want random miscasts that explode in your face or change the nature of gravity relative to your own body, please control your thoughts.  Now, begin.”

The final column had three ponies succeed on the first try, one on the second, and one on the fourth try, a nervous pegasus stallion who failed the first three times.  But Sir Sablebeard was persistent, and the ‘red pony’ finally made it on the fourth try.

“Good.  Now that you have all successfully cast a single rune spell, you will all break into pairs and practice.  ONLY this spell, no others.  One of you will cast, while the other observes.  When the first is done, the second will cast.  Move two desks so you’re sitting across from each other, and can see what the other is doing right, or doing wrong.  Keep going until the end of class, or until one of you accidentally puts you or your partner in the infirmary,” Sir Sablebeard commanded.  There was such a sense of inevitability in his voice that a few ponies in the classroom shuddered.

“Well, tutor, would you be my partner?” Lofty asked, as the other ponies in the classroom paired off with each other.  Emberglow agreed, and the two of them slid their desks together.  “You go first, I think it’ll help to see it done right again.”

“You did fine,” Emberglow said, rolling her eyes, but she did as he suggested, raising her hoof and casting the spell.  It was even easier than the first time.  With a grin, Lofty reached out with a hoof to pop the red orb that had appeared above her head.  “Okay, your turn.”

This time, Lofty got it on the first try.  The two friends took turns, casting the bubble orb and then popping it.  They lost track of time, only stopping when they heard a scream of pain and Sir Sablebeard’s harsh cry of “Stop!  Hooves on desk!” so that he could assess a broken leg and arrange for the injured mare to be carried off to the infirmary.

“It’s kinda weird that we just keep going when somepony gets hurt,” Lofty said.  Emberglow shrugged.

“Well, at the rate ponies are getting hurt, and the level of certainty Sir Sablebeard had about the coming injuries, I’m not surprised.  He clearly planned for this many injuries.  I’m just a little surprised we didn’t have a Radiant on standby, like we sometimes do in martial arts class.”  She thought about Lady Mercy Song, and how nice it would be to see her new role model again.

“It’s possible no Radiant could stand the company,” Lofty whispered, laughing.  Emberglow gave him a horrified look; Sir Sablebeard had just wandered into earshot, behind Lofty Tale.

“You may be correct, green pony,” the Knight said from behind him, his voice deadpan.

“Sir!  I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to…”

“Oh, be quiet.  I’m well aware some ponies find my personality off-putting.  But the fact is, the Radiant did offer to have one of theirs present.  I declined.  Rune casting, as you know, is a mental feat; if I had a magical doctor present, you all would have assumed injury was inevitable.  You would have lost confidence, and everypony would have failed.  Now, practice more and gossip less.”  Sir Sablebeard wandered off, to check on a different pair of students.

“If he was so worried about damaging our confidence, why’d he do it himself?” Lofty hissed, whispering while watching the Knight to make sure he wasn’t close enough to overhear this time.  Emberglow giggled.

“I have no idea.  Now hush, green pony,” she whispered back in a clumsy approximation of Sir Sablebeard’s voice.  “It’s your turn.”

Fortunately for the two of them, neither Emberglow nor Lofty Tale ended up taking a trip to the infirmary, though one of the other students actually caused a minor explosion inside of Sir Sablebeard’s desk, causing an explosion of a brand new ink pot that showered the entire front row in red ink.  Sir Sablebeard, with a resigned sigh, commented that at least they’d only had two serious injuries, and dismissed the entire class, especially the front row, to go clean up before lunch.  A free period had been deliberately scheduled during the time right after their first practical rune casting class, as if the staff had expected and made allowances for potential disasters.

“You could probably skip a bath or a shower,” Lofty teased as the two of them, spotted all over with red, like some sort of pox, walked out of the classroom.  “Nopony could tell if you have red ink all over your mane.”

“Ha ha,” Emberglow deadpanned.  “You look like a Saint Twilight's Night tree that somebody tied a black mop to the top of.  Go wash up, green pony.”

“Is that my new nickname?” Lofty asked.  Emberglow just smirked at him.

“Don't you think it's kinda weird that Sir Sablebeard doesn’t know our names?” she asked.  Lofty shrugged.

“I’ll bet he never bothers to learn anypony’s name.  Or maybe he’ll start, now that he has to interact with us instead of just talking at us.”

“Still,” Emberglow mused.  “Accidents and ink explosions aside, that was pretty incredible.  Did you feel the pressure?  The power building as you formed the spell?  It was weird, but it felt good.”

“Yeah, not the first attempt that failed, but after that I think I felt a little bit.  Something.”

Emberglow stared at her friend.  The sensation had been obvious, and quite powerful.  She wondered if it were different for each pony, but she certainly wouldn’t have described the feeling as merely ‘a little bit’.  

“But…” Emberglow began, then hesitated.  She had no idea how to have this conversation about subjective experiences that she didn’t even have a vocabulary for.  Still, she was curious.  “I think I felt a bit more.  A… a really strong pressure, or a force, in my head.  It was just begging to be released, and as soon as I finished the runes, each time, it would kind of… try to jump out of my head.  It’s hard to describe.”

“Huh,” Lofty said with a shrug.  “I don’t know, Emberglow.  Maybe it’s just because you’re more naturally talented at this than I am.  I didn’t really feel anything like what you’re saying.  Just a little tiny nudge, I suppose.”

They talked about it all the way back to the dorms, until they reached Emberglow’s room.  Every day, Lofty still insisted on following her back to her room.  She thought she should probably protest more; so far, there had been no other incidents.  When they reached her door, however, it was slightly ajar.

“What?” she blinked with confusion, her ears pinned back nervously.  “I didn’t leave it open…”

“Emberglow…” Lofty said, his voice worried.  He sniffed the air.  Emberglow did too; she smelled nothing.  Cautiously, she pushed the door the rest of the way open with her muzzle, sneaking her head into the room to quickly inspect the inside.  What she saw made her blood run cold.

Cream and rose colored fabric, shredded into chaotic strips, strewn across the floor.

Blue velvet, torn into pieces.

Two cutie mark medallions, bent and cast aside.

The largest remaining piece, what had once been a flared sleeve, was torn down one side to make a flat canvas.  It was pinned to the wall with two daggers; somepony had written ‘Go home slut’ sloppily in red ink on the torn cloth.

She’d never asked her parents how much the dress had cost.  How many bits had gone into the materials, how many hours of labor, or how much for the blacksmith’s commission to make the cutie mark medallions.  As she stood there, looking at the shredded remains of the physical symbol of her parent’s love for her, all she could think of were the numbers.  Ten bits for the yards of cream linen.  Twelve, or maybe thirteen, for the cream linen with red dots.  Another seven or so for the blue velvet; they probably didn’t need much of that.  A few hours of labor for the both of them, not even counting the time it had taken them to adjust it for her growth, twice!  She couldn’t even begin to guess how much it had cost for them to commission cutie mark medallions for the belt.  Twenty bits?  Twenty five?  Emberglow had grown up around retail; she had a good enough sense of cost and markup to know that a dress like hers could easily retail for as much as a hundred and fifty bits.

Shock.  Irrational thoughts.  That was a symptom of shock.  She was in shock.  Was it possible for a mental or emotional trauma to bring on symptoms of shock?  Emberglow couldn’t quite remember, but she thought so.  Her hooves moved automatically, shifting her towards the demolished pile of cloth in the center of her room.  Her hoof reached out, pawing woodenly at the shredded remains.  As soon as she felt the touch of the soft fabric, her legs gave out, collapsing underneath her.  She hit the wood floor stomach first, legs akimbo, and buried her nose in the torn cloth.  There was noise.  Somepony was shouting.  Shouting at her?  It didn’t sound angry, but she couldn’t quite make out the words at first.

“...too far.  This is too much,” Lofty’s voice faded into her awareness.  “I can’t…  Emberglow, can you hear me?  Are you okay?”

Something touched the back of her neck, and she shrieked, her rage and grief ripping the feral noise out of her throat.  She spun onto her back, flailing at her assailant with her hooves.  The stallion jumped back just in time to avoid getting clocked.  Bereft a target, Emberglow’s limbs curled around herself protectively, and she flopped onto her side.

“Emberglow I… I’m going to go get help.  Please stay here.  Stay calm.  Uh… yeah.  I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t acknowledge him.  She barely heard him.  Reaching out with her front hooves, she gathered a pile of scraps from her favorite dress and clutched them to her muzzle.  It was too much.  She breathed in the scent of her dress and tried to think.

Emberglow was still curled up on the floor when she heard hoofsteps approaching.  She didn’t bother to get up, but she did lift her muzzle out of the detritus on the floor to watch Lofty, Lady Amaranth, and a nurse from the infirmary, a grey pegasus mare, rush into the room.

“Who did this?” somepony asked.  Lady Amaranth.  She sounded furious.

More voices.  Names.  Accusations.  Emberglow inhaled through her nose, trying to catch the scent of her parent’s shop in the torn cloth.

A new voice.  The nurse?  Maybe.

“... in shock, my lady,” the new voice said.  “Probably a panic attack, as well.”

Lofty was speaking again.  Answering again.  He sounded angry.

Lady Amaranth asked a question.

“I believe she’ll be fine, physically.”  This was the nurse again.  “I recommend some counselling, too.  A pony she can talk to.”

“... Mercy Song will help, Emberglow knows her.” Lady Amaranth mused.  “That is, if she still wants to stay—”

“No!  No, don’t send me away!” Emberglow snapped, surging to a sitting position on the bed.  “This is… this is…”  She didn’t know what she’d meant to say, her thoughts were a mess.  “Don’t send me away,” she repeated, sounding pathetic.

“Shh, nopony’s going to send you away unless that’s what you want,” the nurse said.  Lady Amaranth nodded.

“You’re one of the best in your class, Emberglow, and even your struggles in my class show a determination and willingness to work.  No, the only way we lose you would be if you chose that yourself.  I’ll leave her in your care, nurse.  Lofty, help the nurse with whatever she needs.  I’ve got some ponies to speak with.”

The Knight gave one last sympathetic look at Emberglow before swooping out of the room.  Lofty looked expectantly at the nurse.

“Right.  First, you’re going to take down that disgusting sign.  Then, I want you to head to the kitchens, and get us some hot chocolate.  Tell them you’re on a mission from Nurse Greyfeather.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lofty said, smiling a little and giving a military salute, hoof to chest.  The nurse smirked at him, and sat down on the edge of Emberglow’s bed, a grey wing draped comfortingly around the younger mare.  He walked over to where the two blades were spiked into the wall, and pulled them out with his teeth, spitting the weapons onto the floor contemptuously.  “Would you like me to clean up the rest of this while I’m at it?”

“No, we’ll take care of that.  You just look into the hot chocolate situation,” the nurse ordered.  Lofty nodded, and left.

“I’m sorry,” Emberglow whispered as soon as he was gone.  The nurse stared at her.

“Why would you apologize?  You did nothing wrong.” Greyfeather said.

“No, for being such a mess.  A Knight shouldn’t be… sh-shouldn’t be l-like th-th-,” Emberglow stammered, breaking down into sobs as the tears finally came.  “I’m s-such a w-weakling…”

“Cry all you want, but don’t you dare say you’re a weakling,” the nurse protested, hugging Emberglow to her chest.  “Do you know what Lofty said about you on the way over here?  That you’ve been going months with these girls tormenting you.  Months!   And he says you just ignored it, and didn’t say a word!  That’s not weakness.  What happened here was a panic attack, brought on by stress and shock.”

“I was experiencing the s-symptoms of sh-shock earlier,” Emberglow managed.

“Ooh, that’s right, I did hear that you were medically trained.  Quite the little genius, according to your classmate.  Personally, I don’t think he does you enough credit, if you’ve been putting up with this as long as he says.  Now, what is first aid for shock?”

“Um, cover the patient loosely with a blanket or sheet, make sure they’re lying down, and lots of fluid to prevent dehydration.  Check for bleeding or other external injuries that may be contributing to low blood flow,” Emberglow recited, as the nurse eased her down onto the bed, sliding a sheet up and over her.

“That’s right,” the nurse said soothingly.  “Are you injured?  Bleeding anywhere?”

“No, I’m not,” Emberglow said.

“Okay, let’s move on to the next medical condition, doctor Emberglow.  What do you recommend for a panic attack?” the nurse asked.  Emberglow laughed shakily at the entire situation.

“Encourage the p-patient to take deep, calming breaths,” Emberglow began, and when the nurse raised her eyebrows, she took one.  “Speak soothingly and calmly, tell them everything will be okay.”  It was odd how thinking of things she had memorized, had been tested on in medical school, was calming her racing, churning brain.  “Small sips of water might help."

“Hot chocolate,” the nurse corrected.  “That’s my go-to for student panic attacks.  Sorry, continue.”

“Remove the patient from the source of the stress, if possible,” Emberglow said, looking up at the wall where the daggers had held the sign in place.  The nurse nodded.

“I suppose I should start getting this cleaned up, then.”

“But what should I… what can I… all my parent’s hard work…”

“Was destroyed, yes,” the nurse said calmly.  “But this dress is not their love for you.  This dress is not their feelings, or their pride.  They won’t think or feel differently about you because the dress was destroyed.  So right now we need to get your room in order, so you can stop looking at this pile, and start remembering the sentiment behind the dress, not the dress itself.”  Emberglow nodded and started to rise, but was stopped by a hoof to her chest.  “Nope.  You stay there in bed and tell me all about your parents.  I’ll get this cleaned up.  It won’t take more than a moment.”

“My parents are tailors,” Emberglow began as the nurse began piling together the remains of her dress.  “They raised me in Rainbow Falls until my cutie mark appeared and we moved to New Canterlot City so I could have a better education…”

The self-history continued while the nurse cleared the room, with Emberglow needing only gentle prodding to talk all about her amazing parents.  Nurse Greyfeather was right; it didn’t take long to clean up the mess, and she did feel better as she thought about her mother and father.  In no time, the ruined dress was gone, the scraps thrown away in a garbage bin, the only remaining bits being the two cutie mark medallions.  The nurse had managed to bend them mostly back into shape, leaving them on top of Emberglow’s dresser as a keepsake.

“It’s like a metaphor for you,” the nurse said, as she put the two medallions down.  “No matter how much damage they did, you’re still here, and you’re still strong.  Like these.  You’re going to survive, Emberglow, and you’re going to be stronger for it.”

“I still feel foolish that I had a panic attack, of all things,” Emberglow said.  “I didn’t think…” and then blushed, not wanting to finish the thought.

“Go on,” the nurse prodded.

“I didn’t think that sort of thing happened to ponies like me.  I thought I was stronger than that.”

“Well, now you know.  Stress, anxiety, depression, and trauma are real things.  The Saints can help us through them, but they don’t usually make them go away.  More often, we prove ourselves to the Saints not by ignoring these things, but by enduring and overcoming them.  And it’s just fine to get help on the way; remember, the Saints helped each other, so is it really so bad to get help when we need it?” the nurse asked rhetorically.  “Even the blessed Diarchs are a pair, Sun and Moon, working with each other in perfect Harmony.”

“I’m back!” Lofty announced, reemerging into the room carrying a thermos and several cups.  Emberglow jumped, startled.  “The cook didn’t believe me at first, thought I was making it all up for free sweets.”

“Looks like you convinced him, though,” the nurse said with a smile.  “Pour us all a cup, young stallion.”

Emberglow sat up, and Lofty watched her a bit nervously as he poured them all a steaming mug of hot chocolate.  They all sat and drank, Emberglow sitting on the bed, Lofty and Nurse Greyfeather sitting on the floor, and sipped the hot sweet beverage.  For Emberglow, it was the perfect solution.  The chocolate was like a warm blanket hugging her from the inside.

“So…” she finally felt up to asking the question.  “What happens now?  To Green Fields, I mean.”

“Expulsion is what she deserves,” Lofty said bluntly.

“Expulsion is unlikely,” the nurse said honestly.  “She’s not a sponsorship, so she’s here because her parents paid for her to be here.  The Fields family is wealthy and influential.  So most likely, she’ll be taken to the headmaster of the Ivy Seminary, and questioned about what happened.”

“So she can lie?” Lofty snorted angrily.

“She might,” the nurse said.  “But on the witness of two instructors, both Lady Amaranth and Sir Sablebeard, as well as my own testimony, she’ll be put under a truth spell about the whole thing.  I doubt she’ll be able to prevaricate at all.  I think most likely, she’ll be suspended until the start of next year, and she’ll be on probation, closely watched by all of the staff to make sure she doesn’t torment some other students.”

“Why not kick her out?” Lofty asked.

“Because… even if she’s terrible, Equestria needs her,” Emberglow answered, surprising herself.  “Even ponies like her are a resource.  And maybe if she gets a second chance, she’ll be different.”

The other two ponies were staring at her.

“What?” Emberglow asked.

“She’s too nice,” Lofty sighed.  “Are you seriously defending Green Fields?”

“Not defending,” Emberglow protested.  “I don’t like her, and I’ll be perfectly happy if I never see her again.  But it’d be selfish of me to want her to be kicked out forever, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re unbelievable.”  Lofty rolled his eyes incredulously.

“No, she’s sweet,” the nurse argued, giving Lofty a light shove with her hoof.  “But you really do need to be worried about yourself sometimes.  It’s okay to be a little selfish, to take care of yourself, and let other ponies know when you’re hurting.  I’ll send a message to Lady Mercy Song.  She’s trained as a counselor.  You’re comfortable with her, right?”  Emberglow nodded.  “She’ll tell you better than me, but you need to learn to let your feelings out, and not ignore what’s happening and bottle things up until it explodes.  Talk to your friend, or talk to me, or talk to Lady Mercy.  Okay?”

“Okay.” Emberglow nodded. 

“Good.  Now I have to get back to the infirmary.  Sir Sablebeard has another period this afternoon, and they’re also learning practical rune casting today.”  The nurse shuddered.  “It’s been nice to take a hot chocolate break, though,” she said, as if that were the real reason she was in Emberglow’s dorm.  “I’ll make sure the both of you are excused from your afternoon classes, but tomorrow you should be fine to attend.  Who do you have this evening?”

“Knight Law with Lady Evenhoof, and then Martial Arts with Lady Amaranth,” Lofty replied.  Nurse Greyfeather nodded, and stood after draining the last of her cup.

“I’ll send a note to Lady Evenhoof, and Lady Amaranth will already know where you are.  Do something relaxing, paint, write your parents, read a book, whatever you do to decompress.”

“Um, all Emberglow’s free time has been taken up by extra laundry or extra tutoring of her incompetent classmate,” Lofty supplied helpfully, with a bit of angry bite to his tone.

“No wonder you broke down,” the nurse said, her voice tinged with awe.  “Maybe try writing a letter to your parents, let them know what happened.  I know it will be just a few weekends until you see them again, but it might help you process all this.  Lofty, stay with her until bedtime tonight, okay?  Nurse’s orders.  Come get me if you need anything.”

The nurse left the two young ponies alone, with about half the thermos of hot chocolate left.  With a grin, Lofty Tale refilled both of their glasses.

“I have to say, this has got to be the worst plan ever on how to skip a couple of classes,” he said, just in time for Emberglow to take a big sip of her hot chocolate.  She tried her best not to laugh, snorted, and managed to almost not spill hot chocolate on her bedsheet.  Mostly.

“You’re a brat.” She scowled at him, but she couldn’t hold in her laughter for long.  She moved off her bed onto the floor next to Lofty, and reached out with hoof and wing to draw him into a tight hug.  “You’re also a great friend.  Thank you, Lofty Tale.”

“Any time, Emberglow,” he said, and the two friends held each other close.
> Chapter 7
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 7


Excerpt from the Book of the Saints, Chapter 37, Verses 16 through 25

16- We must give the world a gift, to keep them safe when we are gone, said Twilight Sparkle.  

17- Ponies to follow after us, to walk in our hoofsteps, to spread our Word, and to fight back the darkness of foul magic and alien creatures.

18- We will call them our Knights, and they will be as our children.

19- The first will be the Knights Mystic, said Twilight Sparkle, the Wise Leader.  They will fight against Ignorance and Heresy.  They will contain the unicorn threat.

20- My children will help yours, declared Rainbow Dash, the Ever Faithful.  They will be the Knights Adamant, the strong hoof and mighty voice of the Goddesses, forever protecting our borders from threats beyond.

21- There must be more than an army, reasoned Applejack, the True and Just.  My children will patrol the streets, keeping away threats from within.  They will be the Knights Vigilant, and they will judge and protect the common pony.  

22- My children will spread the Truth, at home and abroad, said Pinkamena, the Joybringer.  They will show all the joys of the Truth, so that all ponies, from the Diarchy and beyond, will better themselves and prepare for rebirth.  They will be the Knights Jubilant.

23- I will give to the world the gift of my Knights Radiant, said Rarity, the Eternal Virgin.  Though no stallion may claim me as his own, I will belong to all as a mother and a sister.  My children will be as I am, forever apart, belonging to none and all, healing all who require.

24- Last to speak was Fluttershy, the Bold Adventuress.  My Knights Angelic will be the last; to bring hope to the darkness, to connect all of Equestria, and to shine the light of the Word where none other dare go.

25- So it was decided.  And Twilight Sparkle gifted each of the Saints with the Sacred Runes, teaching them how to show others to use their mystic might to protect and defend, to serve and support, to uphold the will of the Goddesses throughout Equestria.

1110 AF, Ivy Seminary, New Canterlot City

Eighteen months at Ivy Seminary.  Hundreds of classes, lectures, discussions, and demonstrations.  Nineteen dropouts, one expulsion (for theft and assault), and two suspensions (one was Green Fields, the other was a stallion who had gotten one of the service staff pregnant).  After the incident with the dress, life at the Ivy Seminary had gone much smoother for Emberglow; the bullying had all but stopped.  She met with Lady Mercy twice a month now; once for her service weekends, and another time just to talk to somepony about what was going on.

Now, there was one main thing in Emberglow’s life that was causing her stress: Lofty Tale.  Her best friend in the whole world was beginning to make hints that he would be interested in a little more than friendship.  While romantic pursuits were generally discouraged to the students, they were not outright forbidden, and only two of the five orders swore a vow of chastity.  Emberglow had been playing dumb, pretending not to notice what he was hinting at, all the while knowing that someday, maybe someday soon, he would say something that could ruin their friendship forever.  More than anything else, Emberglow didn’t want to wreck the relationship she had with the kind, intelligent, and often funny stallion.  But how could she tell him she was completely and totally uninterested in any sort of romantic relationship, especially with a stallion?  For the Diarchs’ sake, he already knew she meant to enter into an order that vowed to chastity; what was he thinking?  And how could she turn down a stallion without breaking him?

There was no chance at all Emberglow could go to her mother about this.  That would end in a disaster of nightmare proportions.  

She had considered asking the other major female role model in her life, but Lady Mercy Song knew Lofty Tale. Besides, Emberglow didn’t want to burden the graceful Knight with petty concerns like a hopeful stallion’s love life.  Whenever she was in the Knight Radiant’s presence, she felt like Lady Mercy was invincible — a strong, unapproachable mountain of faith and confidence.  Having a conversation with her about something as silly as saving her friend’s ego after Emberglow’s inevitable rejection felt… blasphemous, somehow.

Lofty Tale hadn’t said anything yet, however, so a part of Emberglow still hoped that he would forever remain quiet about his affections.  They would be seeing a lot less of each other soon; after eighteen long months as pages, they were about to begin their one year period as squires.

Emberglow was looking forward to the new living arrangements; while the squires could continue to stay in the Seminary’s dorm if they wished, it was no longer a requirement.  Though she would be spending her days with her assigned Knight, she would be spending evenings and Sundays with her parents. 

The selection of a mentor for each new squire was an interesting process.  Squires were always assigned to Knights from a different order than the one they aspired to.  Emberglow didn’t know who she’d end up with, but as a sponsorship, she knew Sir Steadfast had influence in who was selected for her.  She knew that if he still harbored hopes of luring her to the Mystics, he would see that she was assigned to a Knight Mystic to squire.  Honestly, the idea was a little exciting to her; the Mystics valued scholarship and study, things she was already good at.  

Lofty Tale was another story.  As far as she knew, he had never decided which of the orders he was interested in joining.  There was a committee of Knights, one from each order, who interviewed each page extensively, once a week for four weeks, to grill them on subjects such as their intended order, their qualifications, their weaknesses, and their goals.  She wondered if in private Lofty Tale had informed the committee which order he was interested in.  He had certainly not told her.

The assigning of squires to Knights took place in the Ivy Seminary’s auditorium, a room that saw very little everyday use.  The only times it was regularly used were during mass assemblies every other month or so, where a large presentation or lecture would be held with the entire student body.  The auditorium could easily hold four times that many, and apparently had in the past, but this year’s class was small.  

Since the ceremony was scheduled for right after breakfast, a gaggle of excited pages made their way together to the auditorium.  As usual, Emberglow was walking with Lofty.  Emberglow was jittery and nervous; her hooves barely touched the path as she nervously pranced alongside Lofty on their way to the big meeting.  

“So, you never told me what order you were going into,” Emberglow began as they walked together towards the auditorium.

“Meh.  It’s because I’m still not sure,” Lofty said ambivalently.  “Any order would be good, right?  And it’s not the idea of a specific order that makes me want to be a Knight, but the idea of being a Knight itself.”

“Maybe you should go for Adamant,” Emberglow said.  “They’re the most… um…”

“Generic?” Lofty smirked, and Emberglow laughed.  “Well, it’s true.  I thought about that, honestly.  But it doesn’t appeal to me. What was that one thing that Lady Amaranth says all the time?  ‘Ponies were not designed to kill other creatures.  We just don’t have the tools built in.’ I just don’t think I’d be comfortable in an order whose primary responsibility is fighting.”

“You’re very good at it, you know.  Fighting.”  She wondered, briefly, if that was his special talent.   Asking about a pony’s cutie mark was a very personal question, but she felt like she might be close enough to Lofty that it wouldn’t be rude.  “I’ve… never asked you about your cutie mark.”

“My cutie mark is a play on the family crest.  It’s an open book, with a crescent moon symbol on one page, and writing on the other.  I always thought it meant my life was full of potential, that I could be whatever I wanted.  You know, like an open book?”

“So what did you tell the placement committee?  They have to know where you want to end up, so they know who to place you with, to squire for.”

“They didn’t seem overly bothered by my lack of decision.  They told me I have until the end of my squiring to figure it out, but until then I was fine,” Lofty said, then grinned.  “I should have told them I wanted to join the Radiant, just to see what they’d do.”

“You know you’re weird, right?” Emberglow teased, earning herself a playful shove from her friend.  It was well known that the Radiant only accepted mares.

The auditorium was the biggest room on campus, sitting in the basement of the classroom block.  It resembled an amphitheater, with a series of large stair-like levels going down to a central stage.  Each of the levels had a row of seating cushions, and each cushion had a small fold-out desk next to it in case the pony sitting there needed something to take notes on.  The two walls on either side were lined with electric lights, and, combined with three large light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, made up the audience lighting for the auditorium. The lights were blazing bright today, shedding light on the crowd of ponies gathered near the front of the auditorium. 

When Emberglow and Lofty entered the room, much of their class had already gathered, and was sitting in the front of the auditorium.  The rest of the room was filled with Knights, all dressed in either their official robes of office or their armor.  Emberglow even spotted Lady Mercy Song, sitting among those Knights waiting for a squire.

“Somepony’s going to get really lucky,” Emberglow said, pointing out her favorite Knight to Lofty Tale.  “Lady Mercy’s getting a squire.”  Emberglow was already envious of the mystery pony; she knew she was getting somepony from another Order, but it would have been really nice to work with Lady Mercy more.  

The two ponies took their seats among their classmates, silently waiting in the midst of the gentle murmur of a hundred echoed conversations.  Soon, the house lights dimmed, and the stage lights flickered on dramatically.  Several ponies walked out on stage; a dozen instructors, seminary administrators, and a few dignitaries took their seats on cushions arranged for them.  The seminary’s headmaster, Pious Epiphany, took center stage.  He was wearing Knight Armor, painted pink with the cutie mark of Saint Pinkamena.  As a hush settled over the assembled students and Knights, he reached out with his hoof and began writing runes in the air.  Emberglow recognized it as a voice amplification spell.

“My young ponies, I am so very proud of you,” he intoned, his voice magically filling the entire amphitheatre.  “Today you gather here for an important milestone in your spiritual journey.  You have completed the first step towards becoming Knights.  For eighteen months, you have studied, struggled, practiced, sparred, worried, and conquered.  You have overcome all challenges that have been placed before you, and now you are here.  I have conferred with your instructors, and I am pleased to say that each one of you is worthy to become a squire.

“Behind you are Knights, the very thing you aspire to become someday.  We have carefully selected each Knight who will be mentoring you.  You will serve them with your full talents and intellect, and in turn they will pass on their valuable experience and wisdom.  Each of you has strengths and weaknesses, and we have picked your mentors to reinforce the former while shoring up the latter.  They will be your role models, your goals to attain.  One day, you too will take the oath of Knighthood, in a sacred ceremony that will infuse your body with holy power and sacred purpose.  You will be faster, stronger, and tougher than your fellow ponies.  But you will use that holy power to fight the enemies of righteousness and the lies of heresy.

“We at the Ivy Seminary have a tradition when it comes to selecting mentors for young squires.  Each of you has professed a desire to join a particular Knight order.  Rather than assign you a mentor from your future order, we assign you to somepony from another.  This is done for three reasons.  First, to remind you that we are all of the same family.  No matter which of the five orders you belong to, we are all of the same purpose, the same goals, only with different toolsets and tasks.  Second, to offer you exposure to ideas and perspectives that may be new to you.  Saint Twilight said, ‘Seek always for truth, even in unexpected locations’.  The third reason, and perhaps the most important, is to foster friendship between the five orders.  Once, we allowed a branch of our family to go off on their own, to seek their own destiny.  Never again.  The Saints have decreed we shall work together, and this is one of the ways we make sure that happens.

“Now, on this day you do not become Knights, but you are one step closer.  Each order has their own oath of membership that its supplicants swear, but the oath we all hold in common is the Oath of the Squire.  It is one of the threads that binds us all together as one in the service of the Saints.  Instructors, if you please.”

Sir Heavenseeker and Lady Broad Strokes, one of the advanced class instructors, rose and pulled on a pair of ropes at the opposite ends of the stage.  Pulleys tied to the ceiling unfurled a large banner, which held the Oath of the Squire.  Underneath the oath were the Five Exalted Tenants, the core principles that upheld the Holy Equestrian Diarchy.

“Now, all of you pages wishing to become Squires, please stand.  Should you wish to change your minds, you may leave right now, and go on with your lives.  The decision is final; a pony who leaves our company now may never return.  Those of you who are Knights, who have already taken the Oath of the Squire, please stand and join with us, reaffirming your conviction and dedication to our path.  Ponies, place your hoof on your heart in salute, and repeat after me.”  Everypony rose to their hooves and added their voices to the crowd.

“I am a Knight of Equestria.”

After each statement, everypony in the room chanted the words after Pious Epiphany.  Emberglow felt a surge of pride as she said the words.  This was it; it felt like the end of the path, or at least an end.

“I uphold the Five Exalted Tenants with my life.

“I protect my fellow Knights from harm.

“I hold close to my heart the Elements of Harmony: Honesty, Loyalty, Generosity, Kindness, and Joy.

“I serve the Diarchy, its leaders and its citizens.

“I keep watch against heresy and corruption.

“I defend Equestria from enemies within and without, with my life and breath.”

With each line of the Oath, Emberglow surged with pride and joy.  In that moment, she was sure she could feel the love of the Saints and the Diarchs flowing through her.  She couldn’t help herself; her wings fluffed out, spreading out in an unconscious display of her elation.

“Thank you.  Please be seated, all of you.  Now, I will call each of you up here to receive your robes, the official mark of your position as a squire.  Each one is embroidered with the cutie marks of all six saints; so you remember that even though you seek to dedicate yourself to only one of the six, you must strive to serve and emulate all.”  Headmaster Pious motioned offstage, and a pair of earth ponies, dressed as Squires themselves, hauled a pair of open crates on stage.  The headmaster lifted something out of one of the crates; it was a robe, dyed snow white and marked with six holy cutie marks.  “After I have given you the robe you have earned, I will announce the name of the Knight you will be squiring for, and their order.  You will then take a seat beside your new mentor.  We will proceed in alphabetical order.  Page Astrolabe!”

Emberglow watched as one of her former tormentors made her way to the stage.  Astrolabe and Emberglow had not exchanged more than a half dozen words since Green Field’s year-long suspension; if she hadn’t been stuck in the infirmary, mostly unconscious, while her best friend had vandalized Emberglow’s dress, she probably would have been implicated in the crime as well.  As it was, Astrolabe had taken great pains to not heap any more torment on Emberglow, much to the latter’s relief.  The headmaster handed a robe to Astrolabe.

“Page Astrolabe will be squiring for Sir Falling Foehn, of the Knights Adamant.”

A pale orange pegasus Knight, dressed in the light blue armor of the Adamant, rose and waved his hoof towards Astrolabe, who looked both nervous and excited.  She descended from the stage and moved to sit with her new mentor, while Headmaster Pious called out, “Page Axel Grease!”

Each student had their turn, with each page called to the front, Emberglow became more nervous.  Who would she end up with?  She assumed a Knight Adamant; even after months of private tutoring, her proficiency at hoof to hoof combat was at best mediocre.  Headmaster Pious, and several of the ponies on the squire placement committee had mentioned that the placement would be made to help the pages with their weaknesses.  

“Page Emberglow!” Headmaster Pious finally called, and Emberglow stood on shaky legs.  She felt something pat her barrel, and looking to her left, saw Lofty Tale grinning at her encouragingly.  Smiling back, she made her way to the stage.

The lights on stage were hot, and she decidedly did not like the skin-crawling sensation of literally everypony in the audience staring at her.  She froze for a second, before nervously proceeding over to Headmaster Pious, reaching out to receive her white robe.  “Page Emberglow will be squiring for Knight Turquoise, of the Knights Jubilant.”

Emberglow’s eyes shifted out into the audience.  A Knight Jubilant?  What did that mean?  She was sure she’d end up with a Mystic, or maybe even an Adamant.  She saw a mare, dressed in the pink robes of the Jubilant, standing in the audience.  She locked eyes with the older mare, noting with some nervousness the Knight’s gaze, which was just shy of hostile.  She didn’t have time to wonder what that was all about, however, as Headmaster Pious had ushered her off the stage so he could call the next name.

Maybe Emberglow had imagined the glare.  As she walked up the steps towards where the mare was sitting, she couldn’t see the expression on the Knight’s face.  She reached the correct row just as the stallion behind her had his mentor announced.  As Emberglow looked down the row of cushions, she could see the pink-robed mare, her gaze fixed on the stage, pointedly ignoring the newly minted squire walking down the aisle towards her.  Her fur was colored turquoise just like her name, and she had a shiny silver mane kept long and flowing, streaked with velvety black.  Emberglow received the slightest of nods from the Knight, the mare barely taking a second to acknowledge her squire.  Emberglow’s nervousness was beginning to become a sense of dread.

It all vanished, albeit temporarily, when Lofty Tale was called to the stage.  Emberglow’s eyes and ears were both pinned on the stage as her friend got up on the platform and received his robe.

“Page Lofty Tale will be squiring for Knight Mercy Song, of the Knights Radiant.”

Was it possible to be equally as excited for your best friend as you were insanely jealous?  Emberglow had known that she would never have been able to squire for one of the Radiant, but that didn’t stop her from imagining how much she could have learned.  She had also never considered that Lofty would have had the privilege of squiring for her favorite Knight, since the Radiant only allowed mares to take their oaths. She supposed that didn’t stop them from accepting stallion squires.  

She realized suddenly that Lofty Tale’s eyes were searching for hers, and he looked worried.  Worried that she would be jealous?  Well she was!  But that didn’t stop her from being incredibly happy for her friend, as well.  Emberglow made sure to give him her widest grin, and he seemed to recover.

Since Lofty already knew Knight Mercy Song, he was able to find her quickly in the crowd.  Emberglow could see the two of them speaking quietly about something, and her nervous dread returned.  What kind of Knight was Lady Turquoise, and why did she seem so unhappy to have a squire?  Emberglow’s dark thoughts stewed the rest of the ceremony.  When every squire had been assigned to a Knight, Headmaster Pious stood up to speak again.

“Remember, squires, you will treat your Knights as your commanding officers now.  Obey them exactly and you will thrive.  Heed their words and you will learn.  Follow in their hoofsteps, and you may one day be Knights as great as they are.  After this meeting, you will be at their command for the remainder of the day.  Squires, work hard, and the grace of all Saints be with you.”

The electric lights in the auditorium rose.  Emberglow would have loved to have rushed over and congratulated her friend on his luck, but she would have to do so later.  For now, she looked to the Knight who would be mentoring her for the next year.

“Well, come on,” the mare said, sounding impatient.  “I’ve got an office in one of the high rises near the Central Cathedral.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow replied as respectfully as possible, earning a grunt from the Knight.  Emberglow followed closely behind an ominously silent Lady Turquoise, watching the expressions of excitement on all the other squires as several of them conversed animatedly with their new mentors.  She even smiled and waved at Lady Mercy, who was already laughing at something that Lofty had been telling her.

The building that held Lady Turquoise’s office was eight stories tall, just a bit shorter than the High Cathedral itself.  It was built in a manner that spoke of function over form.  Simple square architecture rose from the street, interspersed by row after row of simple square windows.  The walls were made of brown brick.  A sign over the glass entry door, made of metal, read simply ‘Jubilant Overflow’.

“I’m on the fourth floor.  You don’t have a problem with stairs, do you?” Lady Turquoise asked.

“No, ma’am,” Emberglow said.

“Good,” the Knight replied.  Inside the building was a reception area, complete with what looked like a café, of all things.  Ponies, most of whom were in pink robes, were sitting at tables drinking tea or coffee.  There was a barista waiting at a counter piled with sweets and drink making supplies.  Lady Turquoise paused suddenly, eyeing her younger charge for a moment.

“How do you take your coffee?” she asked suddenly.

This felt like a test.  Emberglow answered hesitantly, “Um… black, ma’am.” Lady Turquoise’s eyes narrowed briefly, then she nodded.  She walked over to the barista.

“Can you have two black coffees sent up to office 403?” she asked.  The barista took out a small pad of paper, writing out the office number and the order.

“Yes, ma’am, as soon as possible,” he said.  Emberglow was curious when no bits were exchanged.  Maybe it wasn’t really a normal café.

“Thanks,” Lady Turquoise said, and without another word moved through the lobby to a small hallway at the south end of the room. The hallway led to a set of stairs going up, past two elevator doors.

“Sorry, I don’t do elevators,” Lady Turquoise murmured.  Emberglow didn’t know how to respond, so she simply followed the earth pony up three flights of stairs to the fourth floor. 

“Here we are, home sweet office,” Lady Turquoise said, pushing the door open to room 403.  Her office was homey, with the walls filled with photographs of dozens of ponies, alongside a few needlepoint sayings, mostly quotes from the Book of the Saints.  Her desk, centered just beneath the office’s only window, also looked neat and organized. It contained a few more framed photos, including one that appeared to be Lady Turquoise with an older couple, probably her parents.  There were cushions on the floor, all of which appeared home-sewn.  The only other furniture was a large cabinet sitting against the wall.  “Take a seat, and we’ll talk.”  She closed the wooden door behind them.

Emberglow cautiously selected one of the cushions and settled herself on it, watching the Knight warily.  Lady Turquoise slumped down into the cushion behind her desk with a tired sigh.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Emberglow,” Lady Turquoise said.  “I don’t want you here.  I never wanted a squire.”

“I… had gathered that, ma’am,” Emberglow said.  Lady Turquoise gave her a wan smile.

“Sorry, I’m not exactly subtle.  The short story, with all the details cut out that are frankly none of your business, I pissed off somepony much more important than myself, and he decided that I needed to learn some humility.  So, he managed to tease out what would make me the most frustrated and humiliated.  Thus, foalsitting.”

Emberglow bristled.  She wasn’t a foal, and the characterization was unfair.  But before she could say anything, Lady Turquoise continued.

“So now, instead of working on my very important project that I’ve been trying to set in motion for nearly a year now, I have to come up with a bunch of busy work for a squire.  Don’t worry”—she put up her hooves to forestall the protest Emberglow was trying to make—“I’ll make sure you get all the training and instruction you need.  I have to report back to my superiors on your progress, so we’ll be certain you’re making all the right progress you need to, checking all the boxes.  Your progress won’t suffer, only mine and my project’s.”

Emberglow stared at the Knight.  This was not at all how she saw her squiring going.  Busywork?  She opened her mouth to say something; an argument, or a protest, maybe, but she didn’t know what.  Before she could come up with something to say, she was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Ooh, coffee’s here,” Lady Turquoise said, sounding a tiny bit more cheerful.  Emberglow jumped up before the Knight could, opening the door herself to allow the barista pony in, carrying two mugs of steaming black magic.  “Just set them on the desk, thanks.”

The pony delivered his heavenly gifts with a smile, then left, allowing Emberglow to close the door behind him.  The smell was incredible.  Lady Turquoise motioned for Emberglow to take one of the mugs.  She lifted it slowly to her lips, and took a tiny polite sip; the bitter, rich flavor exploded unexpectedly on her taste buds.  She nearly choked in surprise.

“What… is this?” Emberglow managed to stutter, quickly taking another sip to confirm the experience.  This wasn’t coffee; it was life.

“Um, coffee?” Lady Turquoise answered, confused.  

“No, this is… amazing,” Emberglow marvelled, letting her third sip roll around on her tongue for a few seconds before swallowing.

“Oh, that’s right,” Lady Turquoise said with a smirk.  “They only have instant coffee at the Ivy Seminary.  That stuff’s garbage.”

“That’s… all I’ve ever had…” Emberglow said, wonderingly.  Who knew coffee could taste this good?

“Wow,” Lady Turquoise said, her eyes wide.  “Never?”

“No, we could only afford instant coffee,” Emberglow said sheepishly.  Lady Turquoise eyed her with disbelief.

“Okay.  Lesson one as my squire.  There is no such thing as instant coffee in my office.  When I send you to get coffee, you can fetch it from the kitchen downstairs.  Got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” Emberglow answered enthusiastically.  She didn’t mind fetching coffee in the slightest if it meant she got to drink more of this magical brew.  

“At least your taste in coffee is good,” Lady Turquoise huffed.  “Anyways, as for your training schedule, I’ve gone over your school transcripts.  It looks like the only place you really need a lot of work is fighting.  So we’ll be sure to take some time to spar every day, okay?”  The Knight took a deep breath.  “Other than that, I’ve got a list of things you can do.  You’re already well ahead of your class on most topics, so I don’t have a lot of catch up to do there.”

This sounded like more busywork talk to Emberglow.  She suppressed a sigh herself, but what other option did she have?  This was her Knight, somepony she had sworn to obey.  She took a long sip of her coffee, staring at her Knight with troubled eyes.

“I figure, if we both do the best we can to stay out of each other’s way as much as possible, this will go much more smoothly for us both.  I can finish the project I have been literally devoting my entire life to for the last several months, and you can… well, you can do squirey things.”

Emberglow’s heart sank, her ears drooped.  This was certainly not the experience she was hoping for.  She wasn’t supposed to be a burden, was she?  She wondered if Lofty was having similar experiences.  She doubted it; Lady Mercy was amazing.  She frowned, realizing with a twinge of guilt that she had just mentally insulted her Knight by implication.

“Emberglow?  You still with me?” Lady Turquoise said, and Emberglow started, her ears perking up in surprise as she was jolted out of her distracted thoughts.

“Um, yes ma’am.  Sorry.  I was lost in thought there.”

“Right.  So I’m going to need some books from the Mystics’ library.  Here’s my request in writing, because depending on the time of day, the librarian could be a real plothole.”  She slid one paper over the desk towards Emberglow.  “Here’s the list of books and documents I need.”  She slid over another.  “Head to the Star Shine building.  The library’s on the main floor, in the north wing, if you’ve never been there before.  If you enter, you’ll be stopped by one of the guards, or one of the librarians.  Tell them why you’re there, and show them these two papers.  It might help if you change into those squire robes you carried in with you.  There’s a washroom three doors down on the right.  Feel free to take your time with all of this.  I’ve got a pair of saddlebags in here, sitting by the door.  Take those to haul the books back.”

It was a clear dismissal.  Emberglow took the final few gulps of her coffee as she wondered what to say.  Was there anything she could?  She had been stuck with somepony who didn’t want her there, who saw her as a waste of time.  But what could she do about it?  She had sworn to obey; it was part of the Oath of the Squire she’d just spoken.  Perhaps the best thing was to simply make as much of it as she could.  Maybe the Saints had a purpose for her in here somewhere, even if she couldn’t see it right now.  She stood from her cushion, and with a respectful nod to the Knight, picked up her new robes and the saddlebags, and left to follow her orders. As Lady Turquoise had said, the washroom was three doors down on the right.  Emberglow walked in and latched the door behind her.  

This moment was not at all what she’d thought.  Putting these robes on was supposed to be a moment of triumph, of accomplishment.  Not confusion and disappointment.  She took off her page’s robe, letting it slump unceremoniously to the floor.  There was a single mirror in the washroom, and she caught sight of her naked body; her cross shaped cutie mark, complete with a crystal heart in the center, and her athletic muscle, sliding just under her pink fur.  The sleek wings, perhaps not as strong or fast as another pegasus, but well taken care of nonetheless.  She was proud of her body; proud of the time she’d spent training it, jogging and exercising.  She was proud of her mind, of everything she’d accomplished as a page.  But now she felt so worthless.

With a sigh and a painful lump in her throat, she tried to put her thoughts aside as she slipped the new robe where the old had just been.  It was clear the Diarchy spent more on squire robes than they did page robes.  She imagined the additional comfort of the finer linens was simply a privilege of her increased rank, though Emberglow found it hard to be excited about the change.

Once she was out of the washroom, she trotted down the hall.  There were few other ponies about, mostly Knights who ignored her, or spared her a brief nod.  She didn’t recognize the pair of squires she passed, but got a cheerful wave from both of them as they scurried after their respective Knights.  

Lady Turquoise’s office building was just behind the great central cathedral, which was only one building down from the Star Shine Memorial Building.  She walked down into the familiar double doors, smiling politely when the familiar secretaries congratulated her on her new squire robes.  She was about to turn north, towards the north wing and the library, when she heard a familiar voice.

“Emberglow, is that you?” called out Sir Steadfast’s voice. She turned to see him walking towards her, smiling faintly. 

“Yes, sir.” Emberglow grinned, waving to him as he trotted over to her.

“I’m so sorry I missed your ceremony.  You look good in your new robes, young lady.  I’m so proud of you.  Who’d you end up with as your Knight?”

“Lady Turquoise, of the Knights Jubilant,” Emberglow said.  “I’m on an errand for her right now.  She sent me to the library to pick up some records.”

“Lady Turquoise, eh?  They consulted me about who you should be placed with, of course.  They always do.  I recommended the Jubilant, but I’m afraid I’ve never met Lady Turquoise.  How are things going so far?”

“Everything is great!” Emberglow said cheerily, but the lie burned in her chest, like her namesake.  She didn’t even know why she said it.  She’d never lied to Sir Steadfast before, so why now?  Was she so afraid of his disappointment that she didn’t want him to know she already was upset with her placement?  She felt a little ill, and hoped it didn’t show on her face.  She had to get out of this conversation.  “Lady Turquoise is expecting me back as soon as possible, though, so…”  There was another lie!  What was wrong with her?

“Say no more.  I imagine if you’re looking for records, you’re heading towards the library.  If you have any trouble, don’t hesitate to throw my name around.  Some of my fellow Knights can become a little obsessive and overprotective about the flow of information, so you might need some added authority.”

“Of course, thank you sir,” Emberglow said, full of equal amounts guilt and relief.  “But, um, before you go, can I ask why you recommended me to be placed with a Jubilant?  I half expected you to try to get me placed with a Mystic.”

“It would have made sense, if I thought there was any chance of you jumping ship to my side,” Sir Steadfast said, laughing as he shook his head.  “No, I think this is where the Saints mean for you to be.  Call it an intuition.”  He waved to her, both friendly and dismissing.  “Go see to your chores, Emberglow.  Don’t forget, I’d still like to meet with you once a month, even though you’re a squire now.”

“Yes, sir!” Emberglow said, shame shading her enthusiasm.  The older stallion walked off, out of the building, and Emberglow turned towards the north wing.

Signs on the wall clearly marked the hallways she would need to go down to reach the Mystics’ library.  She’d never been this way before, but the way was well-indicated, so when she pushed open the wooden door that was marked ‘library’, she was surprised at the hissed challenge she got as soon as she stepped in.

“You!  What are you doing here?” came the harsh whisper.  She looked up at the speaker, a very young Knight in a purple robe, with a pinched, angry face and white fur, and his yellow mane was tied back in a bun.  He was standing behind a desk that separated Emberglow from the rows of bookshelves stacked behind it, though as soon as Emberglow looked in his direction he rushed from around the desk to confront her.  The room was full of the smell of old parchment.  “Squires are forbidden in my library without permission from…”

Dumbly, she held out the two papers Lady Turquoise had given her, shocked into silence at the oddly vitriolic challenge.  The young knight glared at the papers for a second before yanking them out of her hooves.  His ears were pinned back as he scanned across the first paper, the letter of request from Lady Turquoise.  With a grunt, he switched to the list printed on the second.

“It all seems to be in order, but I’ll have to deny part of your request.  Your master asks for six books, but these two here”—he waved the paper vaguely in front of Emberglow, far too quickly for her to even see—“they are classed as controlled texts, and must not leave the building to prevent unprepared eyes from reading the words.”

“That’s too bad, sir,” Emberglow said, not caring that her frustration was starting to leak into her voice.  “I’m sure Lady Turquoise had no idea that’s what she was requesting.  I’ll be sure to walk all the way back to her office to let her know.”  The smug look on the young Knight made her angrier.  “I just have to stop off at my sponsor’s office first.  Sir Steadfast.”  She didn’t know if name dropping would get her what she wanted, but she was frustrated enough to try.  Oddly, even the attempt at using her mentor’s influence made her feel soiled, somehow.  “What was your name again?  I’ll be sure to mention how helpful you were.”  The sarcasm felt like acid on her tongue.

“Sir Steadfast, you say?” the librarian Knight asked cautiously.  Emberglow knew Sir Steadfast was high ranking, but she hadn’t taken the time to study the ranks of the Mystics.  She didn’t quite know just how high ranking, but it seemed his name was enough to cause the librarian to pause.  

“Yes, my mentor,” Emberglow responded, feeling bitter that this bureaucratic plothole had made her stoop this low.  “Your name, sir?”

“We don’t need to… uh… I mean, are you sure…” the Knight floundered, before centering himself.  “I don’t suppose these texts are too dangerous, as long as you make sure nopony except yourself and Lady…” he paused as he checked the first letter, “…Turquoise ever touch them.  Will that be acceptable?”

“Of course, sir,” Emberglow said, trying to be respectful, while also restraining herself from a relieved sigh and slumped shoulders.

“I’ll be off to fetch those books, then.  You wait here, and don’t touch anything!”

That last was clearly an order, and even though Emberglow had gotten the better of him a bit, she didn’t want to test his patience.  She looked at the desk he had been standing at, and there was a bench alongside it.  Without a word, she sat down to await the librarian Knight’s return.  She could hear him rustling around among the stuffed bookshelves, muttering to himself as he searched for the six titles on Lady Turquoise’s list.  Bored and frustrated, she glanced at the librarian’s desk.  Don’t touch didn’t mean don’t look, right?

Unfortunately, the librarian stallion was as organized as he was antagonistic.  His desk contained only a single ledger, a single photograph of the pony and his mother, a single quill, and a single paperweight shaped like a small bowling ball.  The leger only had the year on the cover, with no other markings.  Emberglow briefly considered flipping the ledger open just to assuage the monotony, but didn’t want to antagonize the librarian unnecessarily.  She ran her hooves over the cushioning on the seat, trying not to think about anything that was happening right now.

“Here,” the librarian finally grunted, dropping the books onto the desk with a muted thump.  Emberglow jumped, earning herself a scowl from the stallion for having nearly drifted off asleep.  There were six books in total, though only one of them was very large.  Emberglow hadn’t bothered to look closely at the list, so she tried to glimpse the titles from the spines.  Only two were visible: “Travels to the Northern Expanse”, and “The Crystal Barrier”.  So Lady Turquoise’s project had something to do with the sealed Northern Empire.  Interesting, though Emberglow doubted Lady Turquoise would be interested in having a discussion about the subject.  The librarian eyed her suspiciously.  “These aren’t for your eyes, squire.  Do I need to put some sort of seal on them to keep you from nosing into your master’s business?”

“No,” Emberglow said, as nicely as she could manage.  “But I could use some help getting them into my saddlebags.”  She stood from her seat.  If the rude stallion was so insistent that she couldn’t touch the books, then he could just do the work himself.  She stood up, and he rolled his eyes at her.  “What?  If you don’t even want me to touch them…”

“Fine!” the librarian snarled, and he walked around the desk, picking up the books again and flipping the top open on Emberglow’s saddlebags.  Though it was clear he was upset, it was also obvious how much care he took for his charges, gently slipping each one into one of the bags resting on Emberglow’s back.  When the books were settled, he buckled the bags closed and smacked her rudely on the rump.  “Now get out!”

Emberglow turned, narrowing her eyes at the stallion, for a brief moment considering retaliation.  Deciding it wasn’t worth it, she trotted out of the library’s swinging door exit, back into the hallway, where she nearly ran face first into a smirking Sir Steadfast, who was waiting for her.

“From the look on your face, I’d say you just made the acquaintance of our very own Sir Trogium Pulsatorium.  We usually just call him Sir Trog, though he hates the nickname.  He’d probably protest more if I weren’t in his chain of command.”  

“Sir, you knew,” Emberglow said, recovering from her shock.  The two of them began walking towards the exit.  “When I said I was going to the library, you knew he was on duty as librarian.”

“Guilty,” Sir Steadfast said with a smile, looking not at all guilty.  “Sorry if he was a bit of a raincloud on your perfect day.”

“I’m a pegasus, remember?” Emberglow responded, fluffing her wings a bit.  “We’re good at kicking rainclouds.  Thanks for giving me the idea to use your name.  He wouldn’t have let me get out with the books without it.”  She hesitated, but then pushed forward.  “I didn’t like doing that.  It felt dishonest.”

“A clever Knight uses all tools at her disposal to accomplish her task,” Sir Steadfast said.  “But I understand what you mean.  You’re an honest soul, Emberglow.  Politics just isn’t your thing.”  He patted the young mare on her shoulder.  “Remember, I’m your friend.  It’s perfectly okay to use my name to overcome a few hurdles here and there.”

“I will.  Thank you, Sir Steadfast,” Emberglow said.  It was quite heartening to have Sir Steadfast call himself her friend.  She supposed he was, after all, but in a day full of disappointments, it was awfully nice to hear.

The two ponies parted at the entrance, and Emberglow left to deliver the books to her Knight.  She felt a little better, but the thought of being alone in the office with a passively hostile Lady Turquoise was troubling.  Still, she steeled herself and squared her shoulders, walking back to the Jubilant Overflow building, making her way past the downstairs café and towards the office of her Knight.  There were quite a few more ponies downstairs than there were before; three baristas now busily bustled behind the counter, serving the dozen workers, secretaries, and a few odd pink robed Knights sitting at the tables.  She moved past them all and up the stairs.

Stopping at door 403, Emberglow hesitated.  Should she knock?  Technically she was going to be spending a lot of time in this office, but that didn’t make it hers.  Making up her mind, she reached out a hoof and knocked.

“Come in?” came the confused voice from inside.  Emberglow opened the door, noticing the shocked look on Lady Turquoise’s face.  “I didn’t expect you back for a while.  Did you get the books?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow said.  “They’re in the saddlebags.”

“Huh.  And the librarian at the Star Shine building didn’t give you a fuss?”

“Well, he did,” Emberglow said, understanding the Knight’s surprise.  “I was able to convince him, though.”  

“Impressive.  It was supposed to take you a little longer, though, so I’ve got nothing planned for you.  Want to go pick us up some lunch?  I don’t have bits, but the café downstairs is free for the Jubilant and their squires.”  When Emberglow looked confused, Lady Turquoise explained.  “You know the Jubilant take a vow of poverty.  We’re not supposed to keep bits for ourselves, so the order provides our meals and coffee if we’re working in the building.  If you want something offsite, however, you’re on your own.” 

“Uh, sure,” Emberglow said, sliding the saddlebags off her back onto Lady Turquoise’s desk.  “I mean, yes ma’am, I’ll go get us some lunch.  What would you like?”

“Just whatever soup and salad of the day they’ve got,” the Knight replied absently, not even looking at Emberglow as she opened the bags to pull out the tomes inside.  Emberglow watched her for a brief moment before sighing and leaving the office to head downstairs.  

The rest of the day did not improve.  After waiting in line to place her and her Knight’s order for a half hour, due to the busy servers, she wandered back upstairs with a rather uninspired split pea soup and garden salad for lunch.  She ate, ignored by her Knight as Lady Turquoise read through some of her new books.  

After lunch, Lady Turquoise reluctantly showed her the gym in the basement of the annex.  They sparred together, and while the Jubilant Knight was an effective trainer, getting tutored in this subject just made Emberglow miss Lofty Tale.  It felt like it had been weeks, rather than just this morning, since she had last seen him.  When they were done, they showered and got dressed.  Finally it was time for Emberglow to leave.  Usually she would be staying with Lady Turquoise until dinner time, but all the squires who would not be staying at the dorms any longer would have to head back to the Ivy Seminary to retrieve what belongings they wanted to take home and clear out their rooms.  Emberglow found herself eager to leave the Knight’s office.

Her time in the dorms at the Ivy Seminary hadn’t been the best part of her life, but she had some fond memories.  As she approached her familiar door, a lone figure was standing next to it, now dressed in white squire robes.

“Lofty!” she called out, excited that her friend was there to meet her.  He looked happy to see her as well, but his eyes were troubled.  “Is everything going okay with Lady Mercy?”

“Yeah, Lady Mercy’s great,” he said, sounding distracted.

“I’m very jealous, you know,” she responded with a smirk, moving past him into her dorm room.  She noticed his saddlebags; they were bulging and full.  He had already packed up his room.

“Yeah, I think… I think I’m going to learn a lot from her,” he said, somewhat awkwardly.  “Do you, uh, need any help packing up?”

“Lofty, it’s not like we have a lot of personal stuff in the dorms,” Emberglow said.  She tried not to think about the one thing she would have liked to have been able to pack up.  “Are you sure you’re okay?  You seem nervous.”

“Um, well,” he said, rubbing the back of his head with one hoof.  “I am.  There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.  Something I’ve been thinking about for a while now.”

No.

No no no please no.

Please please no.  Please not today, Emberglow thought.  It would be the last vomit garnish on the horseapple sandwich that had been her day today.

“What’s that?” she asked politely, her brain screaming protest.  “You can tell me while I pack up.  There’s only a few textbooks I want to take with me, anyways.”  She walked into her dorm room, Lofty Tale standing awkwardly outside.  Her back was to him as she pulled the books she wanted to keep off the top of her dresser.

“Emberglow, I…. erm…” he stammered, then took a steadying breath.  “Emberglow, I like you.  I’ve always respected and admired you, and you’re very pretty, I love spending time with you, and I’dreallyliketogooutwithyousometime.”

There it was.  She blinked, her eyes suddenly wet as she saw the impending end of one of her first real friendships.  There was a pain in her throat, harsh and very real.  She’d been dreading this for months, but she still had no idea how to respond.  It was hard to breathe.

“Lofty.” She forced herself to speak, not bearing to turn around.  She couldn’t see his eyes, wouldn’t look at him.  She clenched her own eyes shut as she tried to keep her voice even.  “You know I’m going to be entering the Knights Radiant.  They swear an oath of chastity.  I can’t be with anypony.  You know that.”

“Hear me out!” he called out to her desperately.  “I know that’s what your plan is.  But you’re not locked into your order yet.  I think we’d be really good together!  And if I’m right, you can pick any of the other orders.  It wouldn’t stop either of us becoming Knights!”

“Lofty…” Emberglow sighed.  She couldn’t bring herself to tell him the real reason.  She turned around, her eyes finding his earnest, hopeful face, his eyes full of hope and pleading.  This was going to break him.  It might break her too, but she had to say it. “No.  No, Lofty.  I’m going to be a Knight Radiant.  It’s been my dream since I was a foal.”

“Dreams can change!” he shot back, desperately.  “We could be your new dream, Emberglow.  Us, together!”

“That’s not my dream, Lofty,” Emberglow whispered.  She walked back over to the door frame, where the stallion waited.  His ears were drooped, but his eyes were pinned on her.

“I’m not asking for much, Emberglow.  Just that you give us a chance.”

For a heartbeat, she considered it.  Would it hurt less to pretend?  If she said yes now, only to reject him later?  To lie?

No.  She wouldn’t lie to Lofty.  Her stomach still churned from even the minor deceptions she’d told to Sir Steadfast earlier.  She felt sick to even consider it.

“Lofty.  Your friendship means so much to me.  You’ve been the rock that kept me steady through all of my trials here.  I don’t want to lose that.  But…”

“Emberglow, please,” Lofty begged.  She shook her head, reaching out with one hoof to gently touch his shoulder.

“No, Lofty.  The answer is no.”  Emberglow gazed into her friend’s stricken face.  “You are an amazing pony.  You’ll probably go on to make some mare very happy.  Some other mare.  Not me.”

“I don’t want some other pony,” he protested.  The despair in his voice made her ache.

“You can’t have me,” she said, and leaned forward to kiss him gently on the cheek.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t…” Lofty said, shoving her away from him.  It wasn’t hard, not enough to hurt, but still violent enough that she was surprised, and nearly tripped.  “Don’t… don’t apologize.  Don’t touch me.  What… what was it all for?”

“What was what for?  Our friendship?  Lofty, how can you ask that?”

“How could you lead me on?” Lofty hissed, glaring at the floor, his face twisted with a snarl.  Emberglow could see tears in his eyes. She felt the same leaking from her own.

“Lofty, I never meant to lead you on,” she cried desperately as she felt the shards of her most important friendship trickling through her hooves.  “Never.”

“I… I can’t…” he stammered, looking up at her one more time, before fleeing down the hallway, his hooves beating an angry tempo against the floor.  

Emberglow raised a hoof, about to call out to him, but lowered it when he turned around the corner that led to the stairs downwards.  Shoulders slumped, ears flat against her head, Emberglow turned back into her old room for the last time, slinking towards her books.  Woodenly she slipped them into her bags before rifling through the other drawers, looking for the only other thing she cared to take with her.  It was her pair of cutie mark medallions, the only survivors of her destroyed dress.  She lovingly placed them alongside the textbooks she was taking, closing up the saddlebags and exiting the dorms.  As she trudged away from the dorms, she both hoped and dreaded that Lofty Tale might still be on campus somewhere, but she never caught sight of his light green fur, or his black mane.  She supposed it was for the best.

Emberglow had slept her last night in the dorms; her parents were expecting her at home tonight.  They would be ready for her now, elated to get to spend more time with her.  But she wasn’t sure she was ready for that right now.  As she set off for her parent’s home, she walked instead of taking to the skies. She felt too heavy to fly, her wings limp at her sides.

The shop looked little different than it had when she had gone into the Ivy Seminary.  There was a dent in the sign above the door; some drunk pegasus had run into the sign mid-flight a few months ago, and her parents had not bothered to fix it quite yet. The moon and stars were out, and most of the street was dark besides the gas lamps that would remain on until sunrise.  Her parent’s shop was dark, but she could see the lights on in the second floor living room, and the shadows moving as her parents moved about the room.  She reached out to try the door; it was unlocked.  She let herself in without knocking.

“I’m home,” she called upstairs to her parents.  She tried to inject her voice with some semblance of enthusiasm.  It wasn’t very effective.

“In the living room, sweetie.  Lock the door behind you and come up and tell us about your day,” Needle Point’s voice came from upstairs.  “We have cupcakes.”

Cupcakes sounded divine right now.  She closed and locked the door behind her before heading up the spiral staircase into the living room.  Her parents were waiting for her, sitting on the couch.  There was a plate of cupcakes on the coffee table, and both Needle Point and Textile were beaming, though their expressions fell when they noticed hers.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Needle Point asked instantly.  Emberglow said nothing, but sat down on the couch between them with a flop.  She didn’t even know where to begin, so she simply reached out and snagged a cupcake.  They had red frosting on the top; Emberglow was willing to bet the insides were rose pink.  She took a bite; it was pink on the inside, with sprinkles.  It was delicious.  She wolfed down the cupcake before leaning into her mother, burying her face in the older mare’s chest.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

Emberglow shook her head.  She didn’t want either of her parents to see her tear filled eyes, either.  She felt her father’s hooves go around the both of them.

“No?  Okay.  Do you just want to cuddle then?” her mother asked, and Emberglow nodded, her mother’s fur tickling at her snout as she moved her face.

“Well whatever it is, it can always be better with a few cupcakes and a hug from mom, right?” her dad said, and Emberglow felt herself laughing, reaching her hooves around her mother and squeezing them together tightly.

She never did manage to tell her parents about her day before it was time to sleep, though she promised to talk about it over breakfast.  After the uniform blankets and mattresses of the dormitory, her own bed at home, with a hoof-made quilt from her mother, felt like a warm hug from the mare.  She expected to be up late thinking about everything that had gone wrong today.  Instead, she was asleep in minutes, her exhausted mind shutting off much sooner than she thought.

Emberglow didn’t frequently dream, and when she did, she was usually flying.  This time she was swimming, flailing around in a giant pool.  She’d never learned how to swim, and her hooves and wings thrashed about, desperately trying to stay afloat in the salty liquid she was suspended in.  Every time she went under, her mouth and lungs would fill with liquid.  She desperately looked around for something to grab hold of, but there was nothing nearby.  Her robes were drenched, their soaked weight weighing her down and dragging her into the depths of the pool.  Desperately, she glanced upward at the moon, the only light she could see.

The moon was huge, much larger than normal.  A silver, slim crescent hung in the sky, surrounded by twinkling stars that seemed to drip from the tip of the crescent moon like tears.  The starlight seemed to dance in the sky as it dripped down into the ocean Emberglow was drowning in.

As she slipped under the waves, her sodden wings fluttering uselessly in the water, she reached out with a single desperate hoof towards the moon.  She didn’t know how she knew, but she somehow understood that the moon was somehow more than just a light in the sky.

“Please!” she cried out, saltwater slipping through her lips and into her lungs.  She sputtered and coughed.  She didn’t even know what she was asking for.

It was then that the moon spoke.  A kind, sweet voice, laced with desperation and hopelessness, echoed from the beautiful sliver.

“I’m sorry!” the voice sobbed.  “I’m so sorry!  I can’t do it!  I can’t reach them!  I have no power here!”

Emberglow tried to call out to the moon, to catch her attention.  She didn’t even know what she was going to say; comfort her, maybe, or beg her to stop crying.  Maybe ask her for help so the little pegasus wouldn’t drown.  But every time she tried to open her mouth to call out, the salty liquid of her tears filled Emberglow’s mouth.

“I no longer have power here,” she repeated again. “I have failed again, sister.”

“No…” came a whispered response, floating through the air like a gentle breeze.  A soothing voice, full of wisdom and compassion, but weak.  “They see you, sister.  They hear you…”

“What?” the voice asked.  The surface of the moon shimmered, and for a brief instant Emberglow thought she saw an image in the silver moonlight; the figure of a dark-furred unicorn mare with wings. “Oh, you hear me?”  The winged and horned pony reached down with one hoof and Emberglow woke up with a short scream.
> Interlude: Dreams of Destiny
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: Dreams of Destiny


Emberglow was not the only pony that night who dreamed of the mare in the moon.  There were four others.

A pony, far to the north in a small, snow-covered kingdom hidden behind a magical barrier created by the Empress, also dreamed of drowning in an ocean of tears beneath a silver crescent moon.  She too awoke with a startled scream.  But hearing the weeping mare, seeing her distress and anxiety, filled the young pony with purpose and inspiration.  She went running into her father’s room, shouting excitedly about her destiny and her purpose.  Her father tried to be excited for her self-discovery, despite the fact that she had burst into his room shouting in the middle of the night.

A pegasus stallion, living far across the sea in Zebrica, also dreamed.  He had traveled thousands of miles from his home to train, giving everything he had in order to serve and protect the stallion he loved.  He had seen the pain in the unicorn’s eyes, and would do anything to ease that hurt.  It was the same exhausted, heartbroken look he saw in the eyes of the mare in the moon.  The dream left him unsettled; it was too real, somehow, to be ignored.  He woke in the middle of the night, lighting the tiny flashlight that was his only source of light in this Zebrican military camp.  He shined the light on his journal, and began to write out the details of the dream.

A unicorn, living deep under a mountain in a hidden city, also dreamed of the mare.  He was used to nightmares; they were like an old enemy, always dogging his steps and chasing his restless nights.  He discounted the nocturnal vision, however, rolling over in his sleep, mumbling.  “Leave me alone, Luna.  You too, Celestia.  You’re dead, remember?  I’m doing the best I can, so don’t pester me.”  He never even opened his oddly colored eyes.

Last of all was an earth pony, a heartbroken teenager.  He couldn’t even understand why, but looking up at the weeping moon, he felt a kinship with her.  He too wanted to cry enough tears to drown himself with.  But something about the soft desperation in her voice humbled him, and gave him perspective.  He longed to reach out, to comfort her, to solve whatever issues had her sobbing.  “You’re stronger than this,” he told himself.  “You’re a Knight.  Well, almost.  Whatever hurt you have can’t be as bad as what’s making her cry.”

And deep underground, underneath the ruins of a long dead city, a pony slept, locked away by ancient magic, kept safe encircled by the roots of a primordial tree.
> Chapter 8
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 8


Letter, received by Pontiff Mystihaze, dated 324 AF

To whom it may concern-

We of the Crystal Empire have received your messages, and heard the words of your messengers.  We have read your supposed ‘holy book’ and the lies and deceptions you claim as truth.

We have watched with horror and disgust as you have persecuted your own citizens.  We have personally dried their tears as they shared stories of torture and misery.

We wept at the news that you executed Sunset Shimmer, a dear, close friend of Our own beloved aunt.

We recoil with disgust at the way your history treats our great aunts, Celestia and Luna.

We have resolved the following:

We do not recognize any claim you or yours have over the Crystal Empire.  Any political connection between us is severed.

We do not recognize you as the legitimate government of Equestria.  In the absence of the late Princess Twilight Sparkle, we support the election of a Regent, to govern until Princess Twilight’s true alicorn successor can be found.  The exiled ponies of Equestria have chosen a unicorn, Notary Public, as their Regent, in free and fair elections.

No Diarchy Knight shall set foot in our sovereign land.

Your missionaries are not welcome here.

We do not need your trade or your commerce.

We will remain separate from you until such time that you have rejected bigotry and hatred, and choose to treat your fellow ponies with respect and kindness.

With Greatest Disdain-

Princess Flurry Heart

Defender of the North, Proud Daughter of Empress Cadence and the Unicorn Prince Shining Armor

Trueborn Alicorn, Keeper of the Ancient Magics of Harmony

Raiser of the Sun and the Moon

A second letter is attached to the first, dated the same.

We, the assembled and allied monarchs of the Crystal Empire, do give the full weight of our unanimous approval and support to the daughter of our liege lady, Princess Flurry Heart.  We stand as one with her, and oppose the usurpers and traitors who hold the government of Equestria.

Signed,

Notary Public, Regent in absentia of Equestria

Princess Valinya of Yakyakistan

Clifford the Red, Diamond Dog High Alpha

Queen Chrysalis II of [REDACTED]

1110 AF, New Canterlot City

	The days had become a monotonous drone.  Every morning, Emberglow woke up, spending a pleasant breakfast with her parents before reporting to her Knight.  Then she did whatever inane busywork Lady Turquoise had prepared for her, while the Knight busied herself with whatever research she was doing into the Northern Empire.  Each afternoon they engaged in fitness training and sparring, which remained an exercise in patience for Emberglow due to her ongoing struggles with martial arts.  On Wednesday evenings she went to sermons, but now she had to attend with her Knight, rather than her family.  

As a Knight Jubilant, Lady Turquoise was an honorary confessor, and as such was frequently asked to speak short sermons of her own.  She was well spoken, with a cheerful, musical cadence to her sermons that delighted her listeners.  It seemed at odds with the short, often surly behavior Emberglow encountered in the Knight’s office, which was a dissonance that made Emberglow uncomfortable.  It wasn’t that the Knight was dishonest, or even a bad pony.  She was just abrasive in private, and Emberglow didn’t really know how to react.

It didn’t help that she was currently cut off from her best friend.  Sure, talking things out with her parents had helped a little bit, as had the cupcakes; there was a kind of magic in sugar and frosting and rainbow sprinkles that defied explanation.  But there was still always a raw, aching abscess in her chest whenever she thought about Lofty and the friendship she had lost.  

Emberglow knew where he was living, of course.  The Tale family had two different manses around New Canterlot City, and before their fallout Lofty had told her where he would be staying.  Emberglow had flown past the gated grounds of the modest estate twice, and each time she had paused to stare at the huge mansion for several moments. Both times, though, she’d lost her nerve before she could even approach the polished gate.  She wanted to talk to him, but she had no idea where she would begin.  She didn’t even know if he would be home when she went by.  Or if he would even agree to see her, for that matter.

It was with a heavy and conflicted heart, then, that Emberglow approached the Jubilant Annex about a month after starting her squiring.  By now, the baristas at the café were well aware of her standing order, and an aproned earth pony was already standing ready with a tray bearing two steaming black coffees for her when she stepped through the front door.  She took the tray and trudged up the stairs towards Lady Turquoise’s office with drooping ears and tail, slipping in to see that Lady Turquoise was already poring over a heavy tome splayed open on her desk.  The only greeting the Knight spared Emberglow was an impatient grunt.

It was a pattern that Emberglow was sadly now accustomed to.  She would enter with the coffee, deliver Lady Turquoise’s drink to her, receive at best a grunt or a single, grudging word of gratitude, and then she would sit down and wait to be acknowledged.  Once she’d tried to ask if there was anything she could do to help, and had received only a glare in response.  

This morning didn’t look to be shaping up any better; Lady Turquoise’s mane was in disarray, and her eyes were surrounded by the dark rings of sleep deprivation.  The Knight barely looked up to accept her coffee cup, dragging the steaming mug over with a hoof and taking a quick sip, only to jerk away and nearly drop the mug at the temperature.

“Um, it’s hot,” Emberglow ventured, earning herself a glare from the Knight.  She merely shrugged in response, blowing at the surface of her own drink before taking a cautious sip.  “Making any progress, my Lady?” she asked casually.  Another grunt.  “Anything I can help with?”  No response.  Emberglow couldn’t help a disappointed sigh from escaping her lips, which finally earned the attention of the older Knight.

“Am I boring you, squire?” Lady Turquoise asked, her voice strained and impatient.

“No, ma’am,” Emberglow said quickly, but the Knight wouldn’t be put off that easily.

“Have I offended you somehow, squire?  Maybe your experiences are not as stimulating as you’re used to, hmm?” Lady Turquoise snarled, standing.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry,” Emberglow yelped, suddenly nervous at the unexpected show of temper from her Knight.  Lady Turquoise glared at her for a second, before a wave of weariness washed over the older mare’s expression.  

“Sorry,” Lady Turquoise muttered, slumping back into her pillow with a sigh of exasperation.

“Your research isn’t going well?” Emberglow ventured cautiously.  The Knight shook her head.

“I was up so late last night I fell asleep at my desk.  When I woke up, I picked up where I left off.  More useless records, more empty theories, more nothing.”

“You’re researching the Northern Empire?” Emberglow asked, remembering the books she’d fetched for Lady Turquoise on their first day together.  Lady Turquoise nodded absently.  “Why?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Lady Turquoise waved a hoof dismissively.  It was the same thing every time Emberglow had asked about whatever her mysterious project was.  “It’s all a waste of time anyways.”

“I thought you called it your life’s work?” Emberglow asked.  Lady Turquoise snorted.

“Life’s work, stymied by the Mystics, the Adamant, and even my own brothers and sisters.”  Her voice trailed off in a defeated sigh.  “Nopony’s interested in Lady Turquoise’s pet project.”

“You never asked,” Emberglow muttered, before she could stop herself.  She hastily took a sip of her coffee, trying to hide her sudden impulsive words behind the gesture.  It didn’t work — she could see Lady Turquoise’s glare from behind her cup.  Nervously, she set the cup back down.

“What was that, Squire Emberglow?” Lady Turquoise asked, a cold anger overlaying the weariness in her voice.  

Emberglow twiddled her hooves, glancing down at them nervously as her ears splayed back. “You never asked me if I was interested, Lady Turquoise.  You’ve never really let me help, except for fetching your books and notes.  You’ve never even told me what the project is.”

“You’re a squire, Emberglow,” Lady Turquoise said dismissively.  Emberglow felt a pang of anger of her own, surging at the condescension and contempt in Lady Turquoise’s tone.  “There’s nothing really you could do—”

“You never asked!” Emberglow shouted, stomping a hoof on the office floor.  Lady Turquoise looked up in surprise, and even Emberglow jumped at the sudden volume of her voice.  But it was too late to take back now.  Like water rushing from a breaking dam or toothpaste out of the tube, once Emberglow had shouted her anger flowed out of her without filter.  “You never once asked me for help!  You never once used me as a resource!  All I’ve ever been is a burden, a punishment!  You stubborn mule!  Do you even realize how aggravating it is to come in here, day after day, and sit here and watch as you drive both of us crazy?  Why can’t you just use me as the tool and the help that I’m supposed to be?”  She banged a hoof down on the desk for emphasis, and the rattling of the wood knocked her half-full ceramic coffee mug to the floor.  It clattered with a splash of hot liquid all over Emberglow’s front hooves, and the sharp sting of pain across her legs jolted her out of her tirade.  She yelped and jerked to her hooves, away from the steaming liquid.  

A silence fell over the pair. As the seconds ticked by, Emberglow was slowly filled with a cold, oozing terror.

"Are you done?” Lady Turquoise finally whispered, her voice quivering with rage.  Emberglow looked up with growing dread, her eyes slowly raising up the cluttered desk, over the open book, and finally to the angrily burning eyes of her Knight. She cringed at the rage she saw, looking away. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and all she could do was nod.  “Good.  Get out.”

“Yes ma’am,” Emberglow whimpered as she fled the office.  She didn’t bother to try and protect her dignity while dashing out of the Jubilant Annex; her hooves pounded the floor as she galloped down the stairs and out the front door, earning herself several shocked looks.  As soon as she was outside she took wing, spreading her feathered appendages and launching herself into flight away from the building and her Knight.

Outside, the day was overcast. While there weren’t nearly enough pegasi to keep the entirety of the Diarchy in controlled weather patterns, the New Canterlot City Weather Bureau kept the skies above the capitol to a tight schedule.  Rain and storms were scheduled weeks in advance, and announced in the newspaper.  Emberglow hadn’t been paying much attention to the weather news; perhaps it was going to rain today, or maybe the schedule had called simply for cloud cover.  There were a few weather ponies in the skies, dressed in the distinct bright orange uniforms of their profession.  They looked questioningly in her direction as she gained altitude, but nopony bothered or challenged her.  Her squire’s robes even earned her a few respectful nods.  She flew until she found a cloud that was solid enough to land on, and far enough from any of the workers who were building the cloud cover.  Once she found a suitable cloud, Emberglow sat down to think.

She let out a surprised moan of relief as she felt the cool moisture on her burned hooves.  She looked down, remembering the hot coffee she’d spilled all over herself.  With her trained eye, she looked at the burns; first degree at most, not a big concern.  She slumped down into the cold wet cloud, ignoring the temperature as she tried to lose herself in her thoughts.

Things were bad.  Not ‘get kicked out of Squirehood’ bad, but certainly ‘stern censure by her Knight, and by the dean of the Ivy Seminary’ bad.  Squires may not be permanent residents at the Seminary any longer, but they were still students, and their assessments and examinations were still conducted by Knights assigned to the Seminary.  What happened to a Squire who mouthed off to her Knight?  It was unthinkable, and yet she had done it.  

By all the Saints, what had she been thinking?  What would she do now?  She slumped into the cloud, her natural pegasus resilience protecting her from the cold wet seeping into her robes. She lost herself in the quiet peacefulness of the cloud.

“Excuse me, my Lady?” said a soft voice from behind her.  Emberglow jumped to her hooves, startled. She glanced behind to see an older pegasus mare, dressed in a weather worker uniform.

“Um, sorry, am I in your way?” Emberglow said worriedly.  “And I’m a Squire, not a Knight.  You don’t have to call me Lady.”

“Of course, uh, ma’am,” the pegasus said.  She was older, her orange hair fading to silver, with an eggshell white coat.  “I’m sorry to bother you…”  She was hovering just above the cloud line, and she dropped down onto her hooves, bouncing gently on the cloud.  Emberglow watched her forehooves twitch, as if the older mare was about to bow to her.  It was expected for Knights, but she was merely a Squire.  The weather mare stopped herself, with great effort.  “Are you okay, ma’am?”

“I’m just fine, thank you,” Emberglow said politely.  “I’m sorry if I’ve bothered you.”

“Not at all!” the weather mare protested.  “I just need to bounce on this cloud a bit to let the rain out.”

“I am in your way,” Emberglow said, flapping her wings just enough to lift off the cloud.  “I’m so sorry.”

The mare opened her mouth to protest the apology, closed it again, and then shrugged.  While Emberglow watched, curious, the mare kicked gently off of the cloud and began bouncing on it, made solid and spongy by the innate pegasus magic in her hooves.  As the mare bounced, rain began to sprinkle down on the city below.

“Do you mind if I ask you some questions about what you’re doing?” Emberglow asked.  “You don’t have to say yes,” she added hastily, hopefully to forestall any attempt by the mare to assent only out of respect for Emberglow’s position.  

“Not at all,” the mare said.  “This part of the job’s really easy.  No science or skill or training needed, just bouncing.  All the hard work is done.”  Emberglow could see other weather ponies in the distance, each one bouncing on clouds that had been painstakingly placed to create a perfect cloud cover.

“Does the bouncing affect the rate of rainfall?” Emberglow asked.

“Yup.  Faster bouncing means more of a downpour, slower a light misting.  Our schedule today called for a drizzle, so it’s gentle, relaxing bouncing for us today.”  The older mare eyed the young Squire up and down as she hovered in the air, taking special note of the squire’s face.  “Would you like to try?”

“Me?  Uh, I’m not a weather mare,” Emberglow said uncertainly.

“Bah, that doesn’t matter,” the old pony scoffed.  “Like I said, all the hard stuff’s done, ma’am.  It doesn’t take any sort of skill or practice.  Give it a try.  Nice, slow bounces like I was doing, nothing taxing.”

Emberglow landed on the cloud, once again feeling the strange mix of wetness and fluffiness on her hooves.  She tensed her muscles and jumped gently into the air.  The cloud was much springier than she had expected, the natural bounce to the cloud sending her higher than she expected. The sensation of bouncing on the cloud reminded her of jumping on her parent’s queen size bed as a foal.  She giggled at both the sensation and the mental image, adjusting her next bounce so that it would have less force.

“You get to do this all the time?” Emberglow asked with a grin.  “And you get paid?”  The older mare laughed.

“Not often enough.  I love a good rainstorm, if only for the bouncing,” the weather mare said as she laughed.  Emberglow liked her voice.  She’d never met her grandparents, who had all passed on before she was born, but the old mare sounded like her mental image of a grandmother.  “Um, it looks like you needed a bit of bouncing yourself, ma’am.”

“Did I really look that off?” Emberglow asked as she continued to bounce on her cloud.

“Stormier than the cloud you’re on, ma’am,” the weather mare replied.  “I always thought a good bounce on a cloud was the perfect solution for a cloudy day.”

“Literally, right?” Emberglow said, laughing.  “My family’s all earth ponies, so they always use cupcakes.”

“Hah!  That’d work too,” the weather mare said.

“You won’t get in trouble because I’m doing your job?” she asked.  The weather mare shook her head.

“No ma’am,” the pony replied.    “I’ll be bouncing on over thirty spots over the next four hours.  I don’t think anypony will mind at all if you take a few moments at one of the spots.”

“Bouncing at different spots?” Emberglow asked.  The work, while silly and fun in a way that brought back foalhood memories, was physically more difficult than she thought it would be.  “Why’s that?”

“Rainfall, when it occurs without pegasus intervention, occurs in patches and sheets, at random.  We move around to simulate a more uneven pattern, to give a more realistic experience to the ponies down below.”

“Don’t you get tired?” Emberglow asked, looking at the mare’s legs.  She was old, yes, but fit; there was no fat on the weather mare at all.

“Of course we do, ma’am.  It takes a strong pony to do this work, whatever the ground-bound think.  Lots of endurance.  Doesn’t mean it’s not fun, though.”

“Very fun,” Emberglow said.  “Um, I just realized I don’t know your name.  I’m Emberglow.”

“Painted Sunrise.  Friends call me Paint, ma’am.”

“May I call you Paint, then?” Emberglow laughed.  “You helped lift me out of my funk, and you let me bounce on your cloud.”

“Yeah, such a sacrifice I made, letting you do the job I’m getting paid to do,” Painted Sunrise said.  Emberglow giggled.  “Be my guest.”

“Okay, Paint,” Emberglow said.  “And thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, ma’am,” Paint said, waving her off with a hoof.  “Ya don’t raise six foals without picking up the signs of a good teenaged funk in progress, or come up with a few strategies for diffusing one.”

“Six?” Emberglow said.

“And twelve grandfoals, and counting.  Thirteen by next month.  With seven pegasi among them, thank the Saints!” Paint said with obvious pride.  Emberglow understood the pride.  With that many grandfoals, two or three pegasi would have been the statistically likely number.  Having seven was clearly a sign of the Saint’s favor.

“You must have been doing something right, then,” Emberglow said.

“I hope so,” Paint replied.  The two mares chatted politely about Paint’s family for nearly a half hour.  The older grandmother mare was more than happy to brag about her grandfoals, and Emberglow didn’t have any problem letting the weather pony speak about her family.  Paint was perfectly polite, and carefully never asked Emberglow about the nature of her earlier mood.  After a half hour, Paint reluctantly mentioned that she had to move on to a different spot.

“Thanks so much for letting me bounce the cloud, and for the chat,” Emberglow said.  “It was exactly what I needed.”

“No problem at all, dear.  I mean, uh, ma’am,” Paint said.  “Don’t suppose you’d like a word of advice from somepony who’s seen a few more years from you?”

“Uh, sure,” Emberglow said, and the older mare patted her on the withers.

“Whatever it is that’s got you down, it can’t be so bad,” Paint said.  “Just be patient, and let things play out.  You’ll see the other side of the clouds soon enough.  And if you don’t, just find one to bounce on, okay?  Nopony in the Weather Service is gonna mind if you flit on up here for a bit of relaxation, hmm?  It’s practically in your blood.  We pegasi’re built to work up here, even if some of us choose other, harder paths.”  She glanced at the symbol of the Saints embroidered on Emberglow’s slightly damp robes.  “Honor to you, Squire Emberglow.  Thanks for giving me an extra break today.”

“Thank you, Paint.  Maybe I’ll come up to visit next time there’s rain scheduled.”

“You do that, ma’am.” Paint said with a smile, as Emberglow flapped her wings, gaining only a few feet of altitude before slipping through the rain cloud towards the ground.  The air above the cloud had been a bit chilly and damp, but as soon as she moved through the wet cloud to below, she was spattered with the light rain as she flew through it.  It didn’t take more than a second for Emberglow to remember why she hated flying in the rain.  While trying to shield her eyes with one hoof, she was barely able to identify Merchant’s Walk, let alone Emerald Street.    It wasn’t that the rain was too hard, it was just that Emberglow was quite unfamiliar with finding her way home from the air.  Though the rain didn’t help either. 

 After a long few minutes of flying and a bit of trial and error, she managed to find her way to the Merchant’s walk and landed on the street. She stayed earthbound while she trotted her way to her parents’ shop.  Once on the ground, it was pretty easy to find her way in the light rain.

“Silly mare! Why are you out in the rain!?” came a familiar friendly voice, interrupting Emberglow right before she reached her parent’s shop.  The lights that shone out of Oak Chips’ shop were bright, lighting up the gloomy late morning with beams that spilled out into the street.  The carved figurines that filled the window displays cast oddly cheerful shadows into the street.  The door was open, and the old, tan colored earth pony looked out into the drizzle at Emberglow.  “Come in for a moment, there is something I need to show you.”  Her friend’s voice sounded odd, as if concerned.  “I will make coffee.  Silly mares shouldn’t be out in the rain anyways, getting cold, getting sick.  Aren’t you some kind of doctor?”

“Some kind, maybe,” Emberglow said with a giggle.  “And I’ve been drinking real coffee from the Jubilant Annex, brewed by professionals.  It’s spoiled me for the instant stuff.”  She followed him inside, and he closed the door behind her.

“Wait here,” Oak Chips said, pointing at the welcome mat just inside his door.  Emberglow was content to wait and drip on the mat as he stepped into his shop’s back room to fetch her a towel.  She took the time to look around his shop.

Oak Chip’s shop was an exercise in controlled chaos.  The shelves and display counters were all a mismatched hodgepodge of different styles, colors, materials, and ages.  The carved wooden figurines that were displayed all around his shop also kept to no theme or pattern, though most were different kinds of ponies.  Each one had a unique costume and pose, and some were even articulate; Oak Chips had once shown her the clever little metal hinges he used to give the toys some degree of movement.  There were also non ponies; griffons and dragons and zebras.  There were monsters like the Timberwolf she’d seen him carving years ago.  

Emberglow hadn’t been in for a few months, but she loved his store.  She loved his figurines, carved with a range of detail, from simplistic foal’s toys to exquisite lifelike works of art.  She loved his silly collection of shelves and counters.  She loved the smells; wood shavings, glues, stains, paint, and instant coffee.  Emberglow could even see a half-full mug sitting next to the rocking chair that Oak Chips would drag outside on sunny days.  It now sat next to a shelf full of half-finished tiny wooden ponies.  Emberglow recognized a chess set in progress; she could identify each piece he had completed.

Oak Chips reemerged bearing a clean but slightly threadbare yellow towel. He tossed it to Emberglow, who caught it with a quiet “thanks”.  She took a moment to dry off her fur and feathers, patting down her mane and tail as well.  She was sure she looked a mess.

“What did you need to show me?  You sounded worried,” Emberglow asked.

“Do you know a stallion Squire with a black mane, and green fur?  Earth pony?”

“Lofty?” Emberglow said, surprised.  “How do you know Lofty?”

“Ah, you do know him.  Is he your stallionfriend?”

“No!” Emberglow yelped.  Oak Chips laughed at her panic.  “We’re just friends.  Or, we were. I don’t know now.”

“A spurned lover, then?” Oak Chips teased.  Emberglow felt her face heating, and she hid it by scrubbing her face with the towel.  “Sorry, silly mare.  I couldn’t help myself.”

“How do you know him?” Emberglow repeated her question, her voice muffled by the towel.  She knew she wasn’t quite ready to stop hiding her face just yet.

“He’s currently passed out, very drunk, on the bed in my guest room,” Oak Chips said casually.

“What?” she yelped, this time completely dropping her towel in shock.  Oak Chips eyes were sparkling with mischief.  “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Oh, you young ponies and your drama.  So exciting.  Is better than a book, sometimes,” he sighed melodramatically.

“Oak Chips,” Emberglow growled, her voice annoyed.  “Is he okay?  What happened?”

“Silly stallion was stumbling down the road towards your parent’s shop, in the middle of the rain, very unsteady on his hooves.  Even all of the rain hadn’t washed off the stench of wine and whiskey.  You young people have no appreciation for real drink, only cheap terrible alcohol.  He was calling out for you.  Loudly.  Lucky nopony else was on the street to hear him, it might have been embarrassing.”

“So what happened?”

“I convinced silly stallion to come inside out of the rain.  Told him I’d find you and bring you here.  He hugged me, said thank you, then immediately passed out.  I lifted silly stallion into my guest bed and tucked him in.  When he wakes up, we feed him coffee and water so maybe we can find out why he was tripping down the street crying your name, hmm?”

“Oh Saints,” Emberglow moaned.  “Are you sure nopony heard him?”

“Nopony was out in the rain, Emberglow.  Your secret love affair with silly stallion is safely secret, though it wouldn’t have been for long if I hadn’t convinced him to come in.”

“I told you, it’s not… he’s not… grr!” Emberglow snarled with frustration.  “Look, we were friends, he asked me out, and I turned him down.  He took it very poorly, and we haven’t spoken in weeks.  This is the first I’ve heard from him since we fought.”

“Why do you have to spoil an old stallion’s fun, hmm?  You are rude, silly mare.” Oak Chips said with an amused look at her.  “All dry?”  Emberglow nodded.  “Good.  I’ll get us coffee while we wait for Sleeping Beauty to sober up a bit.  Then we find out why he needed to brave the storm to come meet his lady love, hmm?”

“I’d rather not,” Emberglow growled.

“Don’t be so dramatic, silly mare.  Come, help me with the coffee and then you can check on your friend with your doctor hocus-pocus to make sure he’s okay,” Oak Chips said.  He beckoned her toward the kitchen, and she followed him in.

Oak Chips’ kitchen was just like his shop, a hodgepodge of dishes and appliances that he’d collected over decades.  The kitchen table was clearly never used for actual meals; Emberglow had always seen him eat in his shop, or in his chair just outside his front door.  The weathered table was piled with mail and newspapers.  His dishes had been collected over his life; no two matched, and each one had a story behind it.  Emberglow had heard several.  

She helped him prepare three mugs of coffee, pulling mismatched stoneware mugs from his cluttered cupboards, then filled a fourth mug with cool water from the sink.  Then Oak Chips showed her to the guest room.

For some reason, Emberglow had expected snoring.  Certainly, the figure of Lofty Tale sprawled out on the bed, limbs akimbo and drool leaking from his open maw, suggested that a loud, grating snore should be emanating from the drunken picture.  He was twitching in his sleep, and he’d kicked off the sheets that Oak Chips had drawn over him.  He was not wearing his squire robes; instead, he was wearing a ruffled loose white shirt and brown pants.  Emberglow knew enough from working with her parents to know that the materials alone that made up his clothing would cost about half as much as the entire inventory in her parent’s shop.  It hurt her almost physically to see the silk of his shirt rumpled and folded, soaked with water and stained with alcohol.  Lofty slept fitfully, twitching and kicking as his brow furrowed.

The room itself was bland and comfortable, but there was nothing of Oak Chips in the sparse décor.  There was a nightstand and a small chest of drawers, and the only hint of personality in the bedroom was a hand sewn comforter, now kicked off into a heap at the base of the bed.  There were also two pillows on the floor that Lofty had apparently kicked off.  Oak Chips set down the tray of mugs right on the nightstand, fairly close to Lofty’s head.  Emberglow could have sworn she saw his nostrils twitch as the scent of coffee wafted through the room.

“That should wake him up, hmm?” Oak Chips said, pulling over one of the pillows to sit.  Emberglow did likewise.

“Maybe if only to complain,” Emberglow said with a snort, remembering all of the times Lofty Tale had complained about the cheap coffee served in the Ivy Seminary.  She hadn’t understood then what he’d meant.  Not until discovering the café at the Jubilant Annex.

“Bah.  There is nothing wrong with my coffee,” Oak Chips grunted, sounding offended, though Emberglow knew the old pony well enough to hear the tease in his voice.  “Is cheap, saves me money for more important things.”

“It’s just fine, Oak,” Emberglow said, retrieving her cup and taking a sip.  It wasn’t really, but she could humor the old stallion.  He rolled his eyes, sensing the deflection, but began to drink his own beverage.

“What are you going to say to him when he wakes up?” Oak Chips asked softly.  There was no hint of teasing in his voice now, but Emberglow still slumped down in her seat, shoulders and ears drooping.

“I don’t know,” Emberglow whispered.  “I just want to be friends again.”

“Stallions are fragile creatures, silly mare.”

“I know.  I don’t want to break him.  I never did.”

“I know, Emberglow,” Oak Chips said, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder.  “When he wakes, make him drink water and coffee.  Nothing will really make him sober up quicker, but you’ll be able to have a conversation.  You young ponies and your drama.  Fun, but too much fun for old bones.  I’m going to finish my latest project.”

“The chess set?  Looks good so far,” Emberglow said, but her heart wasn’t in the banter.  Oak gave her a grin and slipped out of the room with his own mug, and Emberglow settled in to wait.

It didn’t take long, but that didn’t mean that Emberglow wasn’t tempted to upend the cool water cup on her friend to expedite the process.  Finally he stirred with a moan, and two bleary eyes opened to take in the room.

“Where am I?” Lofty Tale slurred drunkenly, his eyes unfocused.

“Hey, Lofty.  You’re in a friend’s house.  It was raining, so he made you come inside before you caught something.”  Or said or did something too embarrassing, Emberglow thought but didn’t say.

“Emberglow?  Izzat you?  Ugh, I smell cafeteria coffee, we at the Seminary?”

“No, we’re at a friend’s house near my parent’s shop.  Where you were headed, drunk, crying out my name and weaving down the street.”

“I was?  Uh… oh.  Yeah, maybe.  I don’t remember?”  Lofty closed his eyes.  “I’mma sleep some more, kay?”

“Lofty…” Emberglow began with a sigh.  “Please sit up for a moment.  Have some coffee.  I think we might need to talk.  I want to talk.”

“You wanna talk?” Lofty mumbled, his eyes still closed.  “You don’t wanna talk.  You hate me.”

The words stung more than Emberglow had expected.  “Lofty I don’t hate you.  I never hated you.  I’ve missed you these past weeks.  Missed you so much.  I just didn’t know what to say.”  She blinked at the wetness in her eyes, nudging the tray on the nightstand towards the stallion to hide her tears.  “Here, drink these.”   He eyed the coffee suspiciously, and the glass of water.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Coffee and water.  If we’re going to talk, I’m going to need you just a little bit more lucid.”

“Kay,” Lofty grunted.  He sat up unsteadily and reached for the coffee mug.  She had to help his shaky hooves as he lifted the beverage to his lips.  “Yuck.”

“Hush, you.  My friend isn’t rich.  Not everypony can afford fancy coffee.”

“Not that.  No cream or sugar.  Yuck.”

“Drunk beggars can’t be choosers.  Drink the coffee and the water.”

It was clear from Lofty Tale’s confused look that he didn’t quite comprehend the situation quite yet, but something in Emberglow’s commanding tone made him comply.  Emberglow watched him as he sat on the bed and drank the liquids.  His eyes were darting about the room, looking at everything except Emberglow’s eyes.

Emberglow was glad there was no clock in Oak Chips’ guest room, so she couldn’t count the minutes that passed.  It was a painful silence as the two young ponies tried very hard to ignore each other.  Each second hurt, but the weight of the moment was pressing so hard against Emberglow that she was terrified to open her mouth and end it.  She felt like she was in a mountain avalanche zone, where a single out of place sound or word could cause disaster to crash down on their heads.  From what she could see of Lofty’s expression, it looked like he felt the same.  

It felt like an eternity passed, but soon the tension was too much, and she finally broke the silence.

“I missed you,” Emberglow whispered.  It was the same thing she’d said earlier.

“Kinda your fault,” Lofty muttered, but then flinched.  “Sorry.  I don’t mean that.”

“It’s okay if you do,” Emberglow breathed, a lump in her throat.  “I saw what was happening, and I did nothing to stop you.  I could have said something sooner.”  

Lofty grunted.  The silence descended again, settling over the room like a cold fog.  Finally Lofty stood, the sudden movement unsteady.  Emberglow reached out to catch him if he fell, but a single glance stopped her.  It wasn’t an angry glance, but there was clear rejection in his eyes.  

“Please don’t go.  We need to talk,” she pleaded.

“Not going anywhere,” Lofty said, with an odd urgency in his voice.  “Except the little stallion’s room. Where-?“  Fortunately, Emberglow had been a guest at this shop often enough to know where the washroom was.  She rose quickly to open the door for Lofty.

“It’s just the door on your right,” Emberglow said, pointing, as Lofty stumbled past her into the bathroom.  Oak Chips was nowhere to be seen, though Emberglow could hear the sounds of his knife scraping against wood from his usual place at the front of the shop.  He closed the door behind him, and Emberglow wandered out into the shop floor to give the stallion some privacy.  She didn’t want to intrude on Oak Chip’s work, as the old pony seemed deeply engrossed in the finer details of his carving.  He glanced up briefly as she entered.

“Your friend okay?” he asked, and Emberglow could have hugged him for not teasing her.  She nodded.

“Bathroom break.”

“That’ll happen,” Oak Chips nodded sagely.  “Your talk going well?”

“No,” Emberglow sighed.  Oak Chips watched her to see if she would say more.  Finally he shrugged and went back to his carving.  Finally she heard the sound of Lofty Tale turning on the bathroom sink to wash his hooves, then the bathroom door opened.  She listened to the young stallion’s hoofsteps as he went back into the guest room, hesitating a moment before following after him.  She gently closed the door behind her with a quiet click.

Lofty was back on the bed, sitting down, his gaze towards the wall.  He held the warm coffee mug in his hooves.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he muttered as Emberglow trotted in after him.  She sat down on the bed next to Lofty, trying to ignore how much it hurt when he flinched away.

“Start with why you’re this drunk, and it’s not even lunchtime yet,” Emberglow scolded, unable to keep the reproach out of her voice.

“Lady Mercy gave me the day off.  She called it a ‘mental health day’.  I’ve been having a rough time since we last spoke, and even Lady Mercy has noticed,” he admitted.  “As soon as I showed up this morning, she sent me away.  I had nothing better to do, so-“

“So you got smashed?” Emberglow asked.  It was an effort to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“You’ve never met any of my family, have you?” he retorted.  “If you had, you wouldn’t be so judgmental about a desire to drink.  My older sister is the head of the household.  She hates me, and has never been shy about the fact.  My parents have always found some reason to be disappointed in everything I do.  Honestly, the only room in the entire manor that was safe from their disapproving eyebrows and their oily condescension is the family liquor vault.”

“So you hid there so you could show off your prodigious talent at self-control?” Emberglow snorted.  Lofty heard it and grinned at her, though it was an expression twisted with a hint of bitterness.

“I couldn’t possibly think of a better use of my day off then consuming way too much of my father’s alcohol, so I sat in the vault and helped myself.  Stayed down there and drank until Stiff Starch found me.  Family butler.  He, uh, convinced me to leave the property before Grace or my parents could find me and cause a scene.”

“Is being a squire so hard?” Emberglow asked.  “How is Lady Mercy?”

“Lady Mercy Song is just fine.  Great, in fact.  I see what you see in her, Emberglow.  She’s going to be an amazing mentor.  She’s patient and kind.”  Lofty sighed.  “She’s so smart, too.  She knows something’s wrong with me, and she keeps asking.”  He glanced up at Emberglow where she sat on the bed next to him, only to flinch away again when his gaze met her.  “She asks about you a lot.  I think she knows you’re what’s wrong with me.”  Lofty seemed to realize how he’d worded his last sentence a little too late, looking back up at her in panic.  “Not that you’re what’s wrong with me!  I mean, it’s because of you that—“ Lofty stopped in a panic and took in a sharp breath, and Emberglow had to raise a hoof to hide the laugh that Lofty’s floundering dragged out of her.

“You want to try that again?” Emberglow said wryly, getting another twisted smile in return.

“Lady Mercy is too smart to not notice how I lock up and go quiet whenever she brings you up,” Lofty admitted.  “I’m running out of excuses.”

“If you were completely honest with her, what would you say?” Emberglow asked.  “If Lady Mercy Song asked you directly what was wrong, what would you tell her?”

“That my best friend broke my heart?” Lofty whispered, blinking at the tears welling in his eyes.  “That I took a risk and got burned?  Or maybe that I said some awful things to my best friend and it’s eating me up inside?  One of those things, maybe.”  He choked back a sob.  “I’ve had a few weeks to think about our friendship, Emberglow.  You knew how I felt long before I said anything, didn’t you?”

She closed her eyes, unable to look at him. “Yeah,” she whispered. The confession felt like vomit coming out of her throat.

“Tons of times I dropped hints, and you picked up on them and tossed them aside.  It’s easy to see in hindsight how uncomfortable I was making you, Emberglow.  I was a bad friend.”

“No, Lofty, you—“

“Don’t make excuses for me,” he interrupted with a slashing movement with one hoof.  “I should have seen the signs that you weren’t interested long before I said anything.  It’s just, at the time, I think I was lost in my own fantasies.  I saw it all, Emberglow.  I’d somehow convince you to enter a different order so we could be together.  We’d date, become special someponies, fall deeply in love.  I saw a wedding, a home together, foals…”

“Lofty, I’m gay,” Emberglow interjected without warning, surprising even herself at the confession.  She hadn’t planned on it, it had just sort of jumped from her lips.  Lofty’s expression was similar to the same one he’d worn when Adorjan the griffon had struck him on the head with a practice blade.

“...oh,” he stated simply.  “That makes sense.”

“That’s it?” Emberglow cried.  “That’s your only reaction?  ‘That makes sense’?”  She wasn’t quite sure why she felt angry, but she did.  “I share with you my deepest, scariest secret, something I haven’t even shared with my parents, and that’s all you have to say?”

“You wanted me to say something else?” Lofty Tale asked, bemused.

“I don’t know!” Emberglow nearly shrieked.  “I… I should have told you ages ago.  You’re my best friend.  I’m supposed to be able to trust you with this sort of thing!  You’re not a bad friend, I am.  Maybe if I’d told you earlier, you wouldn’t have… I mean, maybe you could have…” She threw up her hooves in frustration.  “I don’t know.  I should have told you.”

“I guess… I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me now?” Lofty said, sounding unsure.  Emberglow looked up at him and their eyes met, really met, for the first time in the conversation.  It hurt so bad how much she wanted to hope when she met his gaze.  There was pain in his eyes, but also tenderness.  Was it too much to hope for reconciliation, as well?  “Do you want to talk about it at all?” Lofty asked.  His voice was hesitant; Emberglow could tell what he wanted her to say.  Good thing it was what she wanted to say, too.

“Not at all,” she replied, her voice husky and her eyes wet.  “What now?”

“Now?  I go home, I think.  We… try to move past this.  It’s my fault, Emberglow.  I made assumptions.  But I’m still—“ he cut off suddenly, changing what he was going to say.  “I still feel the same way, Emberglow, even though I know you don’t.  But even though part of me wants more, I want what we had back.  It’s going to take time.  Maybe a lot of time.”

“I know.  Maybe we can write each other letters?  Be friends from a distance, for a bit,” Emberglow suggested.  Lofty nodded.  “You have to talk to Lady Mercy, too.  Knights Radiant don’t just heal the body, they’re trained to heal the heart, too.  Maybe don’t tell her about the, uh, about what I sort of blurted out there.”

“Of course not.  That’s your secret,” Lofty reassured her.  “I’d never break your trust that way.”

Both ponies jumped when there was a sudden knock on the door. They both looked up, embarrassed, as Oak Chips nosed his way into the room, a tray perched on his back.  It contained a pair of sandwiches on mismatched plates.

“Lunch time,” Oak Chips announced.  He looked Lofty Tale up and down.  “You’re looking better, boy.  Feeling more yourself?”

“Yes, sir, sorry sir,” Lofty said quickly.  He jumped off the bed to help the older pony with the lunch tray, which he set on the bed.

“Should be,” Oak Chips grunted with disapproval.

“Oak—“ Emberglow began, but Oak Chips held up a hoof, his gaze on Lofty.

“You should be sorry, pony.  Showing up on the street drunk?  Calling out this young lady’s name while you weaved down the street?  What if there had been other ponies?  You may not know this, little squire, but Emberglow is a bit of a darling on our street.  Kind of like the niece some of us never had.  She’s a local hero for us on Emerald Street.  Do you realize what kind of damage you could have caused?  What kind of trouble for Emberglow?  For her parents?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think—“

“Obviously,” Oak Chips interrupted.  “You didn’t think, you just got drunk.  Little squire, you can’t be more than sixteen years old!  What are you doing getting drunk at your age, and before lunch!”

“Um, can I—“ Emberglow tried to interject, but was cut off again.

“You acted the fool, little squire, and you’ll be lucky if there aren’t consequences for your friend here,” Oak Chips said.  “I suppose you don’t care if something bad happens to you, but you never thought about potential consequences for Emberglow, did you?”

“N-no,” Lofty Tale stammered, looking pale.

“You didn’t think that after you sobered up and stumbled back to your huge manor, kept by your legion of servants, that maybe there might be side effects for Emberglow here.”

“I’m sorry,” Lofty said, cringing away from the older stallion.  “You’re right, I didn’t think.  You’re right about me, sir.”

“Don’t go calling me sir,” Oak Chips said sternly.  “I’m just a pony, son.”

“But what is he supposed to call you?  You were too busy yelling at him to let me officially introduce you,” Emberglow butted in quickly.  Oak Chips glared at her, but she shrugged.  “What?  It’s true.  Lofty, this is my friend Oak Chips.  Oak, this is my dear friend Lofty Tale.  He was the only real friend I had at the Seminary, and he stood up for me against near constant bullying.  He’s a kind and loyal pony who made a mistake or two, and probably doesn’t deserve to be yelled at.”  As she spoke, she had been slowly inserting herself between her two friends.  “Now, thank you so much for lunch, Oak.  Can we eat?”

It was a clumsy way to change the subject, but it worked.  Lofty looked embarrassed at the compliment, and even the gruff old Oak Chips looked guilty about the way he’d laid into Lofty.

“Nothing stopping you,” Oak Chips grunted, motioning at the sandwiches.  “I’ll leave you two alone again.  Little squire, if what this silly mare says is true, thanks for taking care of her at school.  That gives you a pass for your stupid choices today, but watch yourself in the future, hmm?”

“Of course,” Lofty said, his voice full of aristocratic politeness.  “And thank you too, sir, for stopping me from bringing harm to my friend.  I was not myself, and I’m afraid I made a poor first impression on you.  I’m gratified to know my best friend has such zealous defenders.”

“Right.  I’ll be leaving you two alone now, too much drama for old ponies.”

“But Oak Chips, I thought you said earlier young ponies and their drama are better than a good book?” Emberglow asked innocently.

“Bah!  Silly mare!” Oak Chips grumped as he trotted out into his shop.  The two squires giggled at the grumpy old pony, turning to their lunch.  Oak Chips had prepared a pair of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the two of them, which they both ate gratefully.  There were even two more cups of water.  They lapsed into a concentrated silence as they ate.

“How is your squiring going?” Lofty asked.  His voice was cautious and polite.  There was genuine interest, but also a cautiousness that Emberglow wasn’t used to hearing from him.

“Poorly,” Emberglow admitted frankly.  “I told my Knight off today and got banished from her office.”

“Nice one, Emberglow,” Lofty laughed.  “You’ll have to try harder than that.  You, yell at a Knight?  It’ll never happen.”  He paused, his eyes searching Emberglow’s face.  “Oh Saints.  You’re serious.  You really yelled at your Knight.”  Emberglow nodded, her face hot.

“Yes.  I told her she was stupid,” Emberglow confessed.  “And some other things.  Broke my coffee mug on her floor.”

“You… um… why?” Lofty gaped.  Emberglow sighed and told him an abbreviated version of the events that had led her here, as well as her time on the raincloud.  When it was over he reached out a hoof and patted her on the shoulder.

“You’ll be fine.  You’ll get in trouble, for sure, but I’ve never heard of a Squire being kicked out for something like this.  There’s nothing to worry about; I’d just go see her tomorrow morning at your normal time and apologize.”

“That’s my plan,” Emberglow said.  “I feel a little bad about what I said, but mostly I just feel bad about the way I said it.  Lady Turquoise is being really frustrating, and she won’t even let me help her.  Lady Mercy Song lets you help in her work, doesn’t she?”

“Oh yes.  She’s been on duty at New Canterlot’s military hospital, helping with long term physical therapy patients.  I don’t really have the training to be a nurse for her, but I’ve still been picking up a lot about medicine, first aid, and how the pony body works.  I’ve been practicing my healing spells, too.  I’ll never be as good as you or her, but I’m getting better.”

“You have no idea how jealous I am right now,” Emberglow muttered, and Lofty laughed guiltily.

“I thought you might be,” he said, rubbing the back of his head with one hoof.  “How can I make it up to you?”

“By staying in touch.  I need a friend right now, okay?  Even if it just means writing letters,” Emberglow said.  Lofty Tale nodded.

“I’ll do that.  And, uh, Emberglow?  I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for how you feel,” Emberglow said.  “This is good.  Better than I hoped, actually.  I would have given almost anything to be friends with you again.  Now it’s looking like I get my best friend back.”

“You’ll forgive me, then?  For accusing you of leading me on?”

“Yes, I forgive you.” Emberglow said.  Cautiously, she reached out her hooves to hug him, hesitating at the last second at his unsure look.  She let her hooves drop, instead simply patting his own hoof.  “As long as you write to me.”

“I promise.”

Oak Chips didn’t say a word to Lofty Tale as the two of them walked into the main shop floor, merely giving him a sharp glance as they walked out together.

“Thank you again, sir, for everything you’ve done,” Lofty said, glancing over the shop.  

“You can make it home okay?” Oak Chips asked him.  Lofty nodded.

“I might still be a little tipsy, but not as bad as earlier,” Lofty said.  “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll go straight home?  No more weaving around Emerald Street screaming a mare’s name?”

“Yes sir.  Straight home,” Lofty promised.

“Good.”  Oak Chips grunted.  He barely looked up from the Knight he was carving.  Emberglow was pleased to see it was a pegasus.  Lofty seemed interested in the chess set in progress; he glanced at Oak Chips for permission before picking up the Solar Diarch for the white set.

“These are incredible,” Lofty breathed softly.  “You’re really good.”

“I should be,” Oak Chips said.  “I’ve been working with wood for longer than you’ve been alive, little squire.”  His voice was still grumpy, but Emberglow could sense the note of pride glowing through the gruff old stallion’s façade.

“Are these a commission?” Lofty asked.  Oak Chips shook his head.  “How much?”

“How much?” Oak Chips repeated.  “They’re not even finished yet.  Could be weeks.  I’m not as quick as I used to be.”

“But still,” Lofty pled.  “A hand carved wooden chess set?  It’s gorgeous.  I’d like to buy it if you’ll let me.  I can pick it up when you’re done.”

“One hundred bits,” Oak Chips stated blandly.  Emberglow nearly gasped.  Oak never charged much more than the cost of materials, with barely enough markup to cover the rent on his shop.  He claimed he had saved plenty of bits for his retirement while still working as a carpenter up in Stalliongrad.  Compared to Oak’s usual prices, one hundred bits was a gouge.  A total rip-off.  Emberglow knew that if she’d asked to buy the chess set herself, she was sure the price wouldn’t have been more than thirty.  Lofty Tale didn’t even blink.

“Done,” Lofty said, not even fazed by the number.  Emberglow was about to protest when her friend spoke again.  “That price does include a handmade case for the pieces though, right?  Something as nice as the rest of the pieces?”  Emberglow nearly grinned.  Her friend wasn’t stupid.

“Of course,” Oak Chips groused.  “Might take a few weeks.”

“Whenever is fine.  I’ll drop by in a few weeks with the bits,” Lofty Tale said.

“It’ll be done,” Oak Chips said.  Lofty nodded, and the two squires left Oak’s shop.

Outside, the rain was still falling at a gentle drizzle.  Emberglow and Lofty faced each other in the rain.  Neither seemed to want to be the first to speak.  Finally Emberglow made the leap.

“Do you want to see my home?” Emberglow invited, motioning with one hoof to the store next door.  Lofty shook his head.

“Not today, I think,” he said nervously.  “But thanks for offering.  I’ll… I’ll write.  Good luck with your crazy Knight.  I hope it goes well.”

“Thanks, Lofty.  Be well.”  The two friends parted, and Emberglow watched him go before turning and walking the few feet to her parents’ shop.

The door was closed and a sign hanging just at eye level read ‘Out to Lunch’.  That was rare.  Usually her parents ate lunch in shifts so the store could remain open.  It wasn’t locked, which meant they were still inside, just not watching the shop.  She opened the door and slipped inside.

“Mom?  Dad?  Are you guys upstairs?” she called out.

“Up here, sweetie,” her mother’s voice came from the spiral staircase.  There was something off about her voice.  She sounded nervous.  Frightened, even.  Emberglow hurried up the stairs into the living room.

“Mom, is everything okay?  You sound…” She cut off as soon as she reached the top of the stairs and looked into the domestic scene in her family living room.  Her parents were standing, looking quite nervously at the guest sitting on their loveseat.  Needle Point was even shaking a little.  

It was clear what was making them both so apprehensive about their current guest.  It wasn’t every day, after all, that one served tea to a Knight.

“Emberglow.  Glad you could finally make it,” Lady Turquoise said from Emberglow’s parents’ love seat.  She looked angry, and she sounded annoyed, which was typical for her.  The Knight was wearing her pink robes, only slightly damp from her trip through the rain to the tailor shop.  “Thank you for the tea, Ms. Needle Point, Mr. Textile.  It was lovely.”  The Knight stood with an inscrutable look at Emberglow.  “I’m going to be borrowing your daughter for a bit, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, my lady,” Needle Point bowed low.  “We’re happy to serve you.”  Lady Turquoise was already ignoring them, her intense gaze already on her young squire.  Emberglow’s heart pounded with trepidation.

“Squire?  Let’s go.  We need to talk.”
> Chapter 9
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 9


Journal Entry of Sir Jellybean Soup, Knight Mystic, dated 701 AF

March 21, 701.

The Spruce Spaniel is scheduled to make port in the Northern Empire tomorrow, or ‘Crystal Empire’, as I’m told the locals refer to it.  I’ve been waiting for this for months.  Years.  It feels surreal; the effort of dozens of my fellow Knights, spread over nearly two hundred years, coalescing into this one moment.  I have no idea what will happen once I arrive.  I barely even planned on what would happen if I got this far; nopony from the Diarchy has managed this much since the shield went up.  Nopony has even managed to get on a ship to the empire, let alone this far.  When I get back, I’ll have to thank Harmonica and Dusty Daze for both their acting lessons and the idea of using a horn prosthesis to pretend to be a unicorn refugee fleeing the Diarchy.  Nopony is even bothering to question that I’m not using telekinesis; a little trauma acting and everypony easily accepts that I’m just some sort of abused victim.  Nopony has shown an ounce of suspicion.

I’ll write more tomorrow after we’ve made landfall.  

	(The next entry is not for several weeks)

	April 19, 701.

I know I promised an entry after I landed in the Empire, but I have been in no mood to write.  Not after the horrors I have seen.  I scarcely know where to begin.

Needless to say my landfall didn’t go as planned.  I was told that we would be landing in a port located a half-week’s journey from the Empire’s center, a port named Armor’s Bay, after some long-dead hero of the crystal ponies.  All of the crystal ponies on board Spruce Spaniel spoke of the port as if it is some great marvel, and yet I found nothing truly remarkable about the port, besides the impressively large, flat barges that troll the harbor pushing some of the larger chunks of ice out of the way of incoming ships.

The harbor is protected by the pink shield, just like every other boundary of the Crystal Empire, but each ship’s captain is granted an amulet, enchanted by the Empire’s legendary ‘Princess’ herself, that allows each ship to pass through the barrier.  I found the experience unsettling; not that there was any physical sensation, but spiritually unsettling.  I felt like I was traveling into a land of the damned; I imagine it was similar to what Saint Twilight felt when she first stepped into the unholy unicorn city on the mountain.  At the time, I dismissed the feeling as nerves.

When the ship made port and I disembarked, she was waiting for me.  I have no idea how she knew.  The crystal ponies bowed to the monstrous figure, a frighteningly tall hideous winged unicorn.  Her fur was pink, very light, and her mane was the same pink at the roots, growing slowly darker until it reached a dark purple at the tips, with solid cyan streaks.  She wore a simple coronet made of gold that clearly identified her as the 'princess' of this place.  Their faces were confused but not fearful; these fool heathens didn’t even have the good sense to be terrified.  She ignored them, waiting only for me.  I tried to act, using the same words and actions that had so fooled the captain and his crew.

“Imposter,” she hissed, and her horn lit up with a baleful yellow light.  With a flick of her magic, she knocked the false horn off my head.  I am not ashamed to write that I cowered before her furious gaze.  “I feel the taint of the usurpers’ enchantments on you, Knight.”

The gazes around me turned instantly hostile.  The captain, once friendly and sympathetic, now apologized to this ‘princess’ for letting himself be deceived by me.  I felt the magic of the creature lift me off the dock and push me back onto the ship.

“Captain, you will return this spy to Zebrica as soon as my guards can resupply your ship.  I will provide you with the chains capable of securing him.  And you,” those nightmarish eyes turned on me, and I shivered.  “Tell your superiors that your kind are not welcome here.  The next Knight that sneaks into MY kingdom will be returned in MULTIPLE PIECES.  I cannot be deceived, and I will know.  Am I clear?”

I admit I may have soiled myself at the way her voice made the timbers of the ship tremble.

1110 AF, New Canterlot City

“Where’s your closest cathedral?” Lady Turquoise demanded tersely as soon as she and Emberglow had left the shop. 

“Um, ma’am?  It’s, uh, on Garnet Street.  Two blocks north, then take a left,” Emberglow answered, confused at the query.

“Let’s go.  What I have to say needs to be said in front of the Saints,” the Knight replied, heading off at a quick trot that left Emberglow scrambling to catch up.

“Ma’am?  Lady Turquoise?” Emberglow tried, but the Knight Jubilant said nothing.  “My lady, I’m so s—“

“Shut it.  Not another word.  Not yet.  I told you, we’re going to have our chat in front of the Saints.”

“But…”

“Shush, squire!  Don’t you know how to obey?” Lady Turquoise snapped, but there was an unexpected hint of amusement mixed with the annoyance in her voice.  Emberglow complied, staying silent as she tried to keep up with the Knight.  Her mind was churning with questions, but she contained herself as they walked in silence to the cathedral.

It wasn’t a Wednesday, so there was nopony in the cathedral when they entered, besides one of the junior confessors who was tidying between the benches with a broom.  When the young stallion saw the pink garb of Lady Turquoise, he dropped the broom, practically tripping over himself to offer whatever assistance she required.  The Knight brusquely pushed off the obsequious confessor, asking only that they be left alone with the statues of the Saints.  While the confessor hurried to obey, Lady Turquoise impatiently hustled Emberglow over to the statues. Emberglow noted with curiosity that Turquoise had led them before the statue of Saint Applejack.

“So,” Lady Turquoise began, taking a seat on one of the benches in front of the earth pony Saint, with her back to the statue.  She pointed at a seat across from herself, and Emberglow hurried to sit, dreading whatever Lady Turquoise was going to say.

“So,” she said again, before pausing as she noticed Emberglow's expression.  “You look terrified, young lady.  You think I’m going to bite, or something?” She snorted, blowing out a puff of air through her nostrils.

“N-no,” Emberglow prattled nervously.  “I’m sorry, my lady.  I’m so sorry.  I shouldn’t have…”

“Stop.  Those things you said.  Calling me a stubborn mule, I believe?” Lady Turquoise eyed Emberglow critically.  Emberglow cringed, her ears splaying back.  Behind her mentor, Saint Applejack loomed imposingly, almost seeming to gaze judgingly at her. Emberglow felt tiny underneath the weight of that gaze.

“That’s exactly what I said, ma’am,” Emberglow whimpered, bile rising in her throat.  She felt sick.

“You said I was aggravating?  That I was driving both of us crazy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow whispered.  She felt like she was about to cry.  She didn’t think she’d be able to lie or to even try to walk back what she’d said, even though she wanted to; it just wasn’t in her to be less than honest.  Perhaps she hadn’t been exactly diplomatic or politic with her words, but there was nothing incorrect or false in what she had said.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Lady Turquoise asked, leaning forwards, her perked ears facing the young squire.  “Because you didn’t mean it?”

What could Emberglow say to fix it all?  The Knight Jubilant seemed to be offering her an out, an escape from what Emberglow had said.  Was that the chance she was being given?  Maybe Lady Turquoise wanted her to apologize and pretend it had never happened.  She didn’t want to know what happened to insubordinate squires.  But then…

“I meant it,” Emberglow squeaked, looking up at the statue above her.  “I’m sorry because of how I said it, not what I said.”  She stared at Lady Turquoise in horror.  The words had just slipped out of her mouth.  Maybe there was something about sitting in front of Saint Applejack that compelled honesty.  Or maybe Emberglow was just incapable of deception.

“Uh huh,” Lady Turquoise said skeptically.

“I’m sorry,” Emberglow whimpered again.

“But you meant what you said.” Lady Turquoise confirmed.  Emberglow nodded.  Suddenly the façade of impatient anger slipped from the Knight, replaced by a weary sigh.  “Of course you did.  You’re painfully honest, aren’t you, Emberglow?  The problem is, you were right, even if you said it wrong.”  

Emberglow looked up in shock, caught off guard by the sudden change in her mentor's attitude. She opened her mouth to speak, but a sharp glance from the Knight compelled her to silence. 

“As soon as I chased you from my office, I went to speak with Lady Diamond Dot of my order.  Dot’s my boss.  I thought…” she paused, and let out an annoyed huff.  “To be perfectly honest, I went to beg my superior in the Jubilant to have you placed with a different Knight.”  Lady Turquoise grimaced, her face twisted with an expression which seemed just a tiny bit ashamed.

“She… disabused me of some of my assumptions.  See, I was sure you were a punishment of some sort.  I thought I’d angered Lady Dot somehow, offended her in a way that made her want to punish me with a useless squire.  I was, um, incorrect.  Turns out she wasn’t mad at me, and she really believes in my pet project. Even so much so that she specifically made sure I got assigned a squire who would help see my dream become a reality.  She was quite upset that I hadn’t been using you as a resource, just like you said.

“I need you to speak with me, Emberglow,” Lady Turquoise said, shifting from her storytelling for a moment to pin Emberglow with an intense gaze.  “How you felt when you yelled at me today, you’ve felt that same way for weeks now?”

“Yes, ma’am.  I’ve been quite frustrated,” she replied.  She still felt apprehensive, but Lady Turquoise’s confession had leeched some of the fear from her.

“I need you to promise me.  Swear an oath, in front of Lady Applejack,” the Knight demanded, waving a hoof at the statue above them.  “I want you to promise if I start to act like a mule again, you’ll say something.”  She sighed.  “I’m not used to having somebody working for me, and I didn’t know how to act.  So I need your help to keep me straight.”

“So I’m promising what now?” Emberglow asked, confused.

“Promise that you’ll do exactly what you did today.  Except maybe more diplomatically.  Without the name calling and spilling coffee and broken mug all over my floor,” Lady Turquoise said.  “Lady Dot made it clear to me that one of your jobs is to—“ the Knight sighed and rolled her eyes, “—deflate my ego from time to time.”  She paused, going silent while she glanced over her shoulder.  “Look, I’ve got a temper.  This is something I’ve known for a while, and I’ve been under a bit of pressure lately.  None of which is your fault.  So can you promise me that you’ll call me out on my horseapples?”

“I—I can do that,” Emberglow stuttered.  Honestly, she felt like her hooves had been swept out from underneath her.  Just a few hours ago, she had been terrified that her squirehood might be in jeopardy.  “I promise.  I promise I’ll be more respectful about it than I was this morning, too.”

“Good,” Lady Turquoise said with a satisfied nod.  “Now.  I believe during your morning rant you said something about me using you like a tool?”

“Um, yes ma’am,” Emberglow said eagerly.  “However I can help, I will.”

“You might regret saying that,” Lady Turquoise said with a snort, rising from her stool.  Emberglow rose with her, and the two of them left the cathedral.  “I’m going to take you up on that offer, and I’ll work you harder than you’ve ever worked before this.”

“I doubt that, ma’am.  I graduated from med school before I entered the Ivy Seminary.” Emberglow smirked, some of the giddy relief she was feeling fuelling her confidence.

“By the Saints, was that sass?” Lady Turquoise said, laughing.  “You have a sense of humor!  I didn’t even know.  We’re going to head back to my office and discuss how best to use your talents to advance my mad plans.”

“Your mad plans, ma’am?” Emberglow asked curiously.  “I know they involve the Northern Empire, but not much more than that.”

“Not here.  I’ll share the details back at the Annex.” With that, Lady Turquoise began trotting back towards the Annex, and Emberglow followed closely behind. 

With the easing of the tensions between her and her Knight, Emberglow suddenly felt much more curious about the project she would be helping on.   She supposed she'd find out more soon enough. 

Together, they walked into the office, which now smelled faintly of stale coffee and carpet cleaner. Somepony, probably one of the civilian employees at the Annex, had cleaned up the broken crockery and spilled coffee in Lady Turquoise’s office. Nothing but the scent remained of the fit she'd thrown earlier. Still, Emberglow felt a shiver of apprehension as she stepped inside.  It had only been earlier this morning, after all, that she’d had the gall to yell at a Knight in this very room.  

Her younger self would have been horrified at even thinking of a Knight being imperfect.  A younger Emberglow would have been drowning in guilt and disbelief.  But here she had seen not only that a Knight could behave badly, but that she could recognize and repent of it as well.  

That brought a second unpleasant epiphany, one that struck Emberglow like a hoof to the face.  She wasn’t that many months away from becoming a Knight herself, which meant she wouldn’t be perfect, either.  It was a chilling thought.  It made sense that a few oaths and an arcane ritual wouldn’t immediately change her into a perfect pony, immaculately emulating the Saints and their will.  It simply  wasn’t something she’d considered before, and it unsettled her.

“So, I’m sure you’re curious,” Lady Turquoise began, snapping Emberglow out of her reflection.

“Definitely, ma’am,” Emberglow said.  

Lady Turquoise smiled at that, before tapping her chin in thought. "Where to begin…" She absentmindedly pulled a cushion over, sitting down on it. "What do you know of the Northern Empire?" 

“Not much,” Emberglow admitted.  “Nopony knows much, actually.  I know the Empire is to our north, and it’s protected by a barrier of strange, impenetrable magic.”  Emberglow had read as much as she could about the shield; advanced magic always fascinated her, but very little was known about the Empire’s barrier.  “They’re isolationists, and they hate the Diarchy.  They don’t have any diplomatic contact with us, even though they’re ponies, too.”

“Yes, I suppose that much is common knowledge.” Lady Turquoise seemed to consider for a moment before speaking again. “There is another reason I’m looking into the Empire other than scholarly curiosity, though. Now, I can’t go into too much detail, but,” she said softly, leaning in towards Emberglow a little conspiratorially, “I’ve always believed there’s a connection between Saint Pinkamena and the Northern Empire.  Specifically, I believe that is where the Element of Joy has been hidden.”

“Oh!” Emberglow exclaimed.  The Elements of Harmony were legendary artifacts, said to be able to channel vast amounts of magical energy. The six Elements had since been lost, their locations forever obscured by history, though the romantics, the curious, the treasure seekers and the historians continued to chase legends about their locations to this day.  

“Whether or not it’s really up there doesn’t actually matter, though,” Lady Turquoise said, sitting back while Emberglow watched her silently, confused.  “Do you know much about any of the times the Diarchy has tried to infiltrate the Empire?”

“Infiltrate the Empire?  I didn’t even know it was possible,” Emberglow said.

“It’s possible,” Lady Turquoise said.  “The Northern Empire isn’t closed to all, just to us.  Possibly even the griffons as well.  Trade and diplomacy flows out from the Empire to other nations, just not ours.  The barrier only stops the Diarchy and our forces from entering, not anypony, or any creature else.  It was centuries ago that the Mystics first realized this and made their first attempt to sneak spies into the Empire.”

“Did it work?” Emberglow asked.

“I don’t think so,” Lady Turquoise said with a sigh of frustration.  “It’s hard to know what happened back then, especially because the damned Mystics are so damned cagey about information.  They believe they’re entitled to every bit of knowledge that flows through our heads, but they give none back.  The few and rare records I have managed to get my hooves on suggest that the Mystics made three attempts.”

“So what’s your goal, then?” Emberglow asked, eager to get to the point.  

“It’s just that, every attempt to connect with the Northern Empire has been through spies and infiltration.  The Mystics have always spearheaded those efforts, and then failed.  On top of that, they’ve shared almost nothing of the results.  Clearly a new approach is needed, and I thought, if Saint Twilight saw fit to hide the Element of Joy in the Northern Empire, maybe it’s because Saint Pinkamena's Knights need to take the lead in reaching out to our wayward cousins, not the Mystics.”  Lady Turquoise’s tirade faltered, and she looked a little embarrassed.  “I get that the connection is tenuous.  The Element’s probably not even up there.  It just gave me the idea, got me thinking about the Northern Empire.

“I want to be the first Knight in the Northern Empire, Emberglow,” the Knight said, her voice filling with enthusiasm.  “Not as a spy.  Not sneaking in.  But as a missionary.  A diplomat.  For nearly two years I’ve been trying to get my hooves on every piece of information I can about the Empire.  I spent most of the first year trying to get permission from the Mystics to interview one of the zebra prisoners in their camps in Zebrica that may have interacted with some of the Northern ponies, but nopony in Lady Twilight’s order wants to be cooperative.”  She let out an exasperated huff.  “They don’t even want me to succeed just because it would be an embarrassment to them.

“So I’ve been doing what book research I can, spinning my gears while every single one of my requests to meet with creatures that have actually seen the Empire, creatures supposedly in Mystic custody, plod their way through the Mystic’s bureaucratic limbo.”

“You’ve been doing this for two years?  You didn’t, um…” Emberglow trailed off.

“Think about giving up?” Lady Turquoise guessed, and shook her head firmly.  “Not a chance.  It’s… it’s kinda personal, but I think my cutie mark is pointing towards this.”

Emberglow nodded, but didn’t prod further.  It wasn’t considered polite to ask about another’s cutie mark unless they offered, and Turquoise seemed to want to be private about hers.  

“Okay.  May I make a suggestion, ma’am?”

“Sure,” Lady Turquoise said.

“I have a talent for scholarship and research.  It’s what got me through med school at a young age.  I also have a connection with the Mystics.  Why don’t you let me see your notes so I can see where you’re at, and then we can talk about working with our brother and sister Knights over at the Star Shine building?  What note taking method do you use?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you look at them, but, uh, what do you mean by note taking method?” Lady Turquoise asked, her face screwed up with confusion.

“You know, the system you use to organize and access your information.”  Emberglow was practically bubbling with enthusiasm; studying and note taking were things she was genuinely good at, and enjoyed quite a bit as well. She was sure she would be able to help her mentor at least a little in this aspect. “They taught Citrus Splash’s method at the Ivy Seminary, but they didn’t make us use it.  What’s your system, so I can make sense of your notes?”

Emberglow had never seen Lady Turquoise blush with embarrassment before, but before she could say anything, the Knight leaned over and opened a drawer on her desk.  With a grunt of effort, she lifted a large file folder out of the drawer.  It was bulging with hundreds of papers shoved haphazardly into it, all of various colors and shapes.  Emberglow opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Lady Turquoise went down for a second folder, and then a third, each one bearing no evidence whatsoever of any sort of system or organization.

“So, uh, your system is to shove them into file folders in your desk?” Emberglow asked, trying to ignore the rising panic she was starting to feel.  She was supposed to help navigate this mess?  To make sense of it?  How!?

“Yes,” Lady Turquoise said guiltily, her ears back and her eyes shifting about.  She glanced at the cabinet in the room, then glanced away again quickly.

“Ma’am, is there something else in there?” Emberglow asked, suddenly horrified of what those wooden cabinet doors might hold.

“Three more boxes of folders,” Lady Turquoise said, her head sinking.  Emberglow forced out a panicked laugh.  It was a desperate, delirious noise.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said with confidence she didn’t feel.  “This is going to be much more of a challenge than trying not to go crazy while you assign me busywork.”

“Well, if you like, we can go back to how it was before,” Lady Turquoise snarked, and Emberglow laughed again, this time more sincerely.  

“’No task, when undertaken with faith and prayers, is beyond the reach of the sanctified,’” Emberglow quoted, and Lady Turquoise smiled.  “Even if it’s going to take a lot of prayers.”  She stood up, walking over to the cabinet and opening the doors.  There were indeed three boxes inside, each one perched precariously on the ones below it, with bulging file folders stacked haphazardly inside.  Papers, typed, handwritten, and newsprint, were stuffed into each one.  “Lots and lots of prayers.  Oh, Saint Twilight, have mercy on your wayward and desperate children.”

“Hey!  It’s not that bad!” Lady Turquoise protested, before smirking.  “Also, when did you get so snippy?”

“I’m sorry!” Emberglow yelped, suddenly self-conscious.  Maybe that had been too far. Before she could say more, though, Lady Turquoise was laughing.

“Relax, Emberglow.  Please.”  Lady Turquoise looked her straight in the eye.  “I want a fresh start, and that means be yourself.  You promised honest criticism, remember?  So lay into me.”

“Um, okay.  You clearly need a secretary.  Lady Knight, I humbly ask permission to organize this disaster you have created for you,” Emberglow said.  She didn’t know where this cheekiness was coming from, and she was a bit surprised and alarmed at the sense of anticipation, even excitement, as she considered the monumental task before her of organizing and cataloguing the notes of her mentor.  She felt good, confident and useful in the face of the herculean task that sat before her.  While her education had been medical in nature, she was an expert at note taking, organization tactics, and studying.  She had been required to develop those skills in order to survive medical school.  They’d given her quite the advantage at the Seminary, as well.

“You have my permission, humble squire,” Lady Turquoise said, her voice taking on a comically magnanimous affectation.  

“And…” Emberglow began nervously, her tone losing the confident strength it had had earlier.  Though their newfound understanding had greatly improved the relationship between the two mares, Emberglow knew things were still too uncertain for her to push the Knight too far, too fast.  “If it’s okay with you, ma’am, I can teach you how to take your own notes and keep your own documents organized.  It won’t do you much good if I take care of all of this for you and you can’t make use of it once I’m gone.”

“Good point.” Lady Turquoise nodded.

“We’ll need supplies.  Fresh binders and dividers, paper, possibly a copy of Organized Notes, Organized Thoughts by Citrus Splash.  I could go pick it up for you, it’s a fairly common book.  I’m sure at least one of the booksellers in town has a copy.”

“Ah. That’s a lot… um, how important is the book?” Lady Turquoise asked nervously.

“Well, everypony needs to have their own style, but since you seem to have, uh, no method of organization and notetaking”— Emberglow looked sheepishly at Turquoise as she said that —“the best I can do is teach you mine.  Maybe you’ll figure out something that works better for you, but I think it’ll be a good starting point.”

“Okay,” Lady Turquoise said with a resigned sigh.  “I’ll go track down the book and the supplies.  You start trying to make sense of my… um… notes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow said cheerfully.  It wasn’t that the task would be easy or pleasant, but it was a task that made sense, with a defined goal and clear obstacles.  She loved it when things made sense.

“Is there anything else we’ll need?” the Knight asked her as she opened the first folder.

“Muffins,” Emberglow said absently, without looking up from the first page.  It looked like a sailing ship’s passenger manifest.  Somepony with sloppy hoofwriting had circled two entries on the manifest and written some hasty notes in the margin.

“Muffins?” Lady Turquoise asked, sounding amused.

Emberglow looked up from the paper. “Uh, sorry ma’am, but my mother, Needle Point, would always bake muffins when I had a particularly difficult study session coming up.  It’s an essential component of any difficult scholarly venture.”

“Of course,” Lady Turquoise said with a smirk.  “You okay with banana nut?  It’s my favorite.”

“Oh, good choice, ma’am.  That will be very helpful to both of us.”

“If you say so,” Lady Turquoise said.  “You know, Lady Pinkamena was a baker by profession before she took up her destiny as a Saint.  I’m sure she would approve.”

“Let’s hope.” Emberglow grinned.  “You’ll probably need her help too, in addition to Saint Twilight’s.”

“That’s enough sass out of you, young squire,” Lady Turquoise scolded, but the rebuke had no bite to it.  “I’m going to go locate some quality muffins, then, and the supplies.  It may take me a while, so you can start, uh, organizing.”

“I’m going to temporarily clear your stuff off your desk, if that’s okay,” Emberglow said.  “I’ll need the space.  I’ll put it back when I’m done.”

“You do whatever you need to do, squire.  If I’m not back by sundown, send a search party.” Lady Turquoise smirked.  “I may have been eaten by wild books.”

Emberglow felt so much lighter, even bouncy, as the Knight left.  It felt a little odd for Lady Turquoise’s treatment of her to change so rapidly — then again, the Book sometimes spoke of Saint Pinkamena as having a bit of a mercurial mood. She supposed it was perfectly in character for one of her Knights to go from antagonistic to cheerfully teasing in a few hours.  

Between the change of pace in her relationship with her Knight, and the monstrous but attainable task in front of her, she felt like she could sing.  She carefully moved all of the knickknacks, picture frames, and other personal effects off of Lady Turquoise’s desk and pulled up the first haphazard box onto the now empty surface.  She didn’t have the supplies she would need to begin transcribing the notes, but at least she could start organizing things.  She began separating the documents into categories, giving each paper, notebook, or newspaper cutting a quick summary glance before placing it in one of several growing piles on the desk.  

As time passed, she began to grow more and more interested, taking longer and longer with each document.  Every page was a snippet of information about the Empire; a personal account of contact with a crystal pony, a report of a naval encounter with Empire ships, even transcripts of interrogations with captured Zebra soldiers who’d mentioned the Empire’s citizens.  Each document was a clue, a hidden treasure that added one more drop of information about their mysterious neighbors.  While Lady Turquoise may be desperately disorganized, she was smart.  She’d clearly gone to a lot of effort to gather as much relevant information on the Northern Empire as possible.

The time melted away.  Emberglow realized she had no idea when she’d started familiarizing herself with the materials in question, but she was sure it had been hours.  Lady Turquoise did have a small desk clock, but it was with the rest of the Knight’s personal effects in a neat pile on the floor.  Emberglow leaned over to glance at the piece, a ceramic timepiece which was molded in the shape of a toaster, of all things.  She was sure there was a story behind that.  The clock read three o’clock, but Emberglow had no real idea when she’d started, so she didn’t know how long she’d been reading.  At least two hours, perhaps.  It had felt like no time at all, as it usually did when she was reading or studying.  

She glanced back to the fascinating set of notes Lady Turquoise had taken on a skirmish fought between a convoy of Diarchy supply ships headed towards a fort in the Zebrican continent and a Northern Empire warship.  Unfortunately, Lady Turquoise had not included a primer on naval terms, something the Knight was clearly familiar with herself.  It would have been helpful, but Emberglow still found the multiple witness accounts of the violent encounter fascinating.  She didn’t know much about naval combat, and the unfamiliar terms were like puzzles Emberglow had to figure out with context clues.  She tried to imagine what the battle would sound like, with roaring cannons competing with the splash of the waves and the war-cries of sailors as they swung on ropes between the ships.  She was sure she was overromanticizing it in her head, but that didn’t stop her imagination.  It easily took up another half hour, before the door swung open wide.

“J’arrive!” Lady Turquoise cried out musically, somewhat muffled by the handles of a bag clenched between her teeth.  The Knight was laden with a pair of bulging saddlebags and a bag that exuded the irresistible scent of fresh muffins.  She deposited the muffins on the desk and shrugged the saddle bags off onto the floor.

“Was that Prench?” Emberglow asked.  “I didn’t know you spoke a dead language.”

“Just a few words here and there,” Lady Turquoise said, waving a hoof.  “It’s one of the perils of scholarship, to occasionally be exposed to odd unrelated tidbits of information.”

“C’est vrai,” Emberglow said slowly, completely unsure of the pronunciation.  The two mares laughed, and Lady Turquoise motioned towards the bag.

“Snack break, then the squire can become the teacher.  I found the book you asked for.”

“Great!  Reading is tiring work.”  She reached into the bag and pulled out one of the muffins.  “Still warm?” she asked with pleasant surprise.

“Yeah, I put in my order before I went shopping for the other supplies then picked them up on the way back.  How do they taste?” Lady Turquoise asked.  For some reason, she had a sly smile on her face. Emberglow was beginning to get just a little nervous.  

She gingerly took a small nibble of the banana nut muffin, chomping through the chopped walnuts that garnished the top.  It was amazing, and oddly familiar.  There were bits of real banana baked into the muffin, which combined with the chopped walnuts to create a mélange of textures.  The muffin recipe relied on the natural sugars within the banana more than adding too much itself, making a muffin that actually tasted like a muffin, not a cupcake.  Emberglow’s tiny nibble turned into a much larger bite as soon as she recognized exactly where the muffins had been made, and she glanced at the knowing smirk on Lady Turquoise’s face.

“How’d you convince my mom to make us muffins?” Emberglow said once she’d swallowed her bite.

“Wasn’t hard,” Lady Turquoise grinned.  “I told her I was about to have you teach me how to properly take notes, and could she please supply us with some appropriate study fuel?  She refused to let me compensate her for the favor, too.  So I’ll be sending you home with a few bits.  She can’t say no to you.  You said she was the one who taught you about muffins and studying, after all, so I figured I should go to the original source.”

“Good plan.  I love my mom’s muffins.  Thank you, Lady Turquoise.”

Lady Turquoise’s face bloomed into a small smile, and Emberglow thought she saw a hint of a blush. “Well, I didn’t do it for you, I did it for me.  I needed to be sure I got the one hundred percent correct studying muffins.  Pure selfishness.”  She stuffed nearly half of a muffin into her mouth, closing her eyes in a blissful expression.  “‘ere, ‘emme geh ah book,” Turquoise said with her mouth full.  She reached into the stuffed saddlebags and pulled out the text Emberglow had asked for, Organized Notes, Organized Thoughts, by Citrus Splash.  Emberglow’s eyes widened at the unfamiliar cover art and the shiny ‘Third Edition’ emblazoned on the cover.

“Third Edition!  I never even got to read the second!  My copy’s a secondhand book I got used.  I wonder if they actually fixed the table typos in chapter four!  It was really frustrating that they’d labeled all of the tables in chapter four with threes instead of fours!  I know it’s a minor issue, but… uh…” Emberglow trailed off awkwardly when she noticed that Lady Turquoise was laughing.

“You’re one of those, then?  A total nerd?” the Knight asked, grinning teasingly.

“I prefer ‘detail-oriented scholar’,” Emberglow said with a sniff.  “But yes, that’s what my friend says.”

“I’m in good hooves, then.  Where should we begin, Instructor Emberglow?”


*   *   *   *   *


There was a bit of uncomfortable awkwardness at first; a single day of reconciliation would not remove Lady Turquoise’s temper, but both ponies were patient.  That first night, Emberglow went home for the first time in weeks with a smile on her face and a bounce in her steps.  She was in such a good mood that her parents even commented on the difference, and her mother didn’t argue too hard when Emberglow pressed the bits for the muffins into her hooves.  On the second day, Emberglow could tell Lady Turquoise felt a bit out of her depth, but she knew it was the will of the Saints that they’d been placed together.  Lady Turquoise, too, seemed to realize that fact, and she was clearly trying her best.

One of the best changes was that Emberglow got her own writing desk.  It wasn’t huge; the room already had one desk in it, after all, so there was only room for a small one, but it was her desk.  On the day Lady Turquoise had some workponies move the desk into her office, she also presented Emberglow with her own picture frame, suggesting that Emberglow could decorate her desk however she liked.

Once the lessons were done, Emberglow became Lady Turquoise’s secretary practically full time.  She took notes for the Knight, studied with her, set up appointments, and even filled out paperwork requests.  Lady Turquoise wasn’t one to give up easily, and had chosen to take a squeaky wheel approach to asking the Knights Mystic for information.  She boasted to Emberglow that she’d sent at least one request a week for two years.  Now it was Emberglow’s job to fill out the forms that would inevitably be denied.  It was an exercise in patience and persistence.

The process of transcribing all of Lady Turquoise’s notes into a logical, rational, readable fashion took the better part of two weeks, and by the end of the process, the Knight was irritable and frustrated.  Emberglow was happy, however.  This was her element. 

One day, while Emberglow and Lady Turquoise were working in her office, a courier came by with news of the most recent rejection by the Knights Mystic.  Emberglow was already tensed for an explosion; the morning had been full of minor setbacks like overcast skies,  stale donuts, and watery coffee.

“What?!” Turquoise snapped crankilly as the courier entered the office.  Emberglow raised an eyebrow at her, and she took a deep breath and motioned the nervous courier forward with one hoof.  He nervously placed a missive on her desk, which she read with a hopeless sort of look, before sighing loudly, crumpling the note, and tossing it idly in the trash.

“Will you need to send a return message?” the courier ventured.  Lady Turquoise’s eyes snapped to him, and she snarled.

“No.  Shoo!”

“Lady Turquoise?” Emberglow cut in cautiously.  Lady Turquoise’s angry eyes snapped to her squire, then softened.  It was the same scene that had repeated itself a dozen times over the last few weeks.  One of her most important duties as Lady Turquoise’s squire, she’d discovered, was serving to act as a buffer between the Knight and everypony else on her bad days.

“Look, I’m sorry,” she told the courier, who looked terrified.  “It’s not your fault they’re being stubborn over at the Star Shine building.  Thanks for bringing the message, and I don’t need to send a return just yet.”  He nodded, then backed out of the office after shooting Emberglow a grateful glance.

 Emberglow felt a guilty sort of relief every time Lady Turquoise’s anger exploded at anypony besides her.  She didn’t like that others had to suffer the wrath of her Knight, but it was comforting to think that she was now an ally with Lady Turquoise against every force arrayed to stymie her goals.  

“What if we arrange a meeting between you and a high ranking Mystic?” Emberglow asked after the courier was gone.

“You mean your sponsor, Steadfast?” Lady Turquoise asked, perking up slightly from her tired slump.  “I didn’t want to ask you to put yourself out like that.  This is my fight with the Mystics, Emberglow.  I didn’t want to put you in their crosshairs.”

“It’s why I’m here,” Emberglow said.  “Your senior, Lady Dot said so right?  I’m a resource.  I could send him a note right now, or I could go over in person.”

“A note should be fine,” Lady Turquoise said cautiously.  “Where would we…” she began, but Emberglow waved a hoof.

“I’ll figure out the details.  It’s my job, remember?  You just work out what you’re going to say to him.”

Now with her Knights’ permission, Emberglow wrote up a personal note for Sir Steadfast, asking to meet with him to discuss her Knight’s ambitions for the Northern Empire.  She trotted downstairs to find a courier to take the note over to the Star Shine building, then went back upstairs, complete with a bag of cookies acquired from the downstairs cafe.

Emberglow went back upstairs (using the elevator; she’d never quite been brave enough to ask why Lady Turquoise avoided them) and delivered her prize to a grateful Knight.  They relaxed and munched on cookies while they waited for a response.  

Finally, there was a knock on the door, and the very same nervous looking courier held out a note to Emberglow, pointedly trying not to look at Lady Turquoise.  The note was simple:  ‘You free for lunch?  12:30 at Let Us Wraps.  Bring your Knight’.  It was signed ‘Steadfast Word’.’  Emberglow showed it to Lady Turquoise, who read it with cautious optimism.

The restaurant was a trendy lunch spot, conveniently located near several of the Orders’ headquarters buildings.  As Emberglow and Lady Turquoise approached, she could see a rainbow of colors; the outdoor tables were filled with Knights wearing the robes of their Orders.  She couldn’t help but notice that while there were Knights from each of the Orders, for the most part each table was segregated by color.  

They didn’t see Sir Steadfast at one of the outdoor tables, so they entered via the front door.  The insides were nearly as busy as the outsides, but the noise was more a subdued hum than the cheerfully babbling cacophony of the outdoor tables.  It was a bright and cheerful sort of restaurant, with colorful floral print wallpaper and bright yellow curtains.  A sparklingly pleasant waitress with a two-tone pink and white mane bounced over to offer them a table before they saw Steadfast, one light blue hoof waving to catch their attention.

“Welcome to Let Us Wraps.  Let us find you a table?” the waitress asked, looking a bit embarrassed at the pun she probably repeated dozens of times each day.

“Thanks, but we’re with somepony already,” Lady Turquoise said, motioning towards Sir Steadfast.

“Okay!” the waitress said brightly.  “Have a seat, and I’ll be by right away with your menus.”

Sir Steadfast stood politely as the mares approached.  He gave Emberglow a quick hug in greeting, then reached out a hoof towards Lady Turquoise.

“Lady Turquoise.  It is a pleasure.  I am Steadfast Word,” he said, and the two shook hooves.  “Have a seat, you two.”  The waitress brought their menus, and Emberglow glanced over the restaurant offerings.  As one would expect, most of the menu was lettuce wraps, with soups and sandwiches as well.  Emberglow ordered a grilled cheese and tomato soup.  The Knights ordered their own food, and the waitress flitted away to put in their orders.

“So, the note you sent in reply certainly came in a timely fashion. Perhaps you’ve been expecting Emberglow to ask for a meeting?” Lady Turquoise began evenly.  Only her twitching ears betrayed her nervousness.

“I thought it might be possible,” Sir Steadfast replied vaguely.  Emberglow watched him closely. “I’ve read over several of your proposals.  You have interesting ideas, Lady Turquoise.”  Emberglow wanted to ask why he seemed to be acting so coy, but she stopped herself. She was a squire in the presence of Knights.  If they wanted her input, they would ask for it.

“How long have you been following my requests to your order?” Lady Turquoise asked, her eyes narrowed with concentration.  

“For a while now, to be honest.  I’ve always thought it a great shame that we weren’t closer with our Northern cousins.  You seemed to be the only pony who cared enough to try to do something about it.  It’s a shame that pride becomes so much of a roadblock to positive change like this.”

Lady Turquoise nodded. Emberglow just stared at the two, her face twisted with confusion. Lady Turquoise, though, wore a thoughtful expression, and seemed perhaps a bit excited.  The waitress brought their food, setting down a steaming bowl of red soup in front of Emberglow that smelled deliciously herbal.  The cheese was perfectly melty, too, and she immediately dug into her lunch.

“So,” Lady Turquoise began, her voice casual.  “What’s it like being a sponsor?  I’ve never done it before.”  It was a rather abrupt subject change, and Emberglow’s gaze flickered back and forth between the two Knights, now well and truly lost.  Lady Turquoise sometimes seemed temperamental and flighty, but this sudden shift in conversation felt odd even for her standards.

“It’s been a rather interesting experience.  Some Knights seek out good candidates from among the common folk for sponsorship.  Mine sought me out.” He winked at Emberglow.  She smiled back, but stayed silent, not quite trusting herself to speak.  This conversation had taken an odd turn, and she couldn’t quite follow it.  “I’ve never seen myself as much of a teacher, but I’d like to think the small amount of contact and influence I’ve had have been positive.”

“The chats we had throughout my time in the Seminary were a lifesaver, sir.  I don’t know if I could have survived otherwise,” Emberglow interjected.  Steadfast grinned at her.

“Thank you, young lady.  I’m just glad I could have helped, in whatever small way,” he said.  “Though, to be honest, as a sponsor I don’t have too much influence, as evidenced by the fact that I have so far been unable to lure Miss Emberglow away from her plans to join the Radiant.  I’ve told her several times we could use a mind like hers in my order.  The only real tangible influence I’ve had is when they consulted me on who she would squire for.”

Lady Turquoise twitched, and a slow, careful smile spread across her muzzle.  She looked at Sir Steadfast, her eyes quizzical, but her expression hopeful.  The older Knight merely answered with a grin.

“That sounds interesting.  You had influence in the Order Emberglow was assigned to?” Lady Turquoise asked.

“Not just the Order, but the Knight herself,” Sir Steadfast said, his eyebrows raised significantly.  “I wanted to make sure my sponsored pony got placed with a Knight with fresh, bold ideas.”

“Too bad nopony else thinks the way you do,” Lady Turquoise said.  Sir Steadfast nodded.

“You know how ponies can get when pride is involved.  There have been so many failures to reach out to the Northern Empire.  It’s understandable that a group that’s failed so many times would be reluctant to see another succeed in their place.  It would be a tremendous blow.”

“I can certainly understand that,” Lady Turquoise replied.  “But isn’t positive progress worth stepping on a few hooves?  Surely the end result is worth a little bruised pride.”

Emberglow merely sat and listened to the conversation while she ate her lunch.  Both ponies sounded completely casual, though she was pretty sure there was some subtext she was just on the edge of understanding.  It was like she was almost listening to the same conversation they were having, but not quite.  Was Sir Steadfast suggesting that he’d read Lady Turquoise’s proposals and had deliberately placed Emberglow with her in an attempt to reach out and help?  But why not just openly offer assistance?  She didn’t get it.

“If only all ponies could have that view,” Sir Steadfast mused.  “It would certainly make things simpler.”

“Hypothetically, what sort of balm would it take to massage wounded egos?” Lady Turquoise asked.  “I mean, in a situation like ours.”

“An olive branch, of sorts,” Sir Steadfast said.  He hadn’t even taken time to consider his response, and his eyes were alight with excitement.  “You’d like to send a mission, rather than spies, to the Northern Empire.  I think that there’s a chance this could work.  The problem is, how does any of this advance the agendas of individual Knights Mystic?”

“What do you suggest?” Lady Turquoise asked.

“First, include a Knight Mystic in your planning and proposals, as much as possible.  Unfortunately, we’ve been ordered to leave the Northern Empire alone as a lost cause and a waste of resources.  So many of us would be unable to help you publicly.”

“But helping along the studies of a squire you personally sponsored into the Seminary…” Lady Turquoise mused, trailing off significantly.  Sir Steadfast beamed.

“Exactly.  Doing so would allow interested parties to offer support while saving face with our superiors, who seem to think the entire issue is an embarrassing non-starter.  I’m so glad you understand.”

“Okay.  Next?” Lady Turquoise asked.

“Second, you’re going to have to find a way to include Mystics at every step of your journey.  I assume your plan includes arranging meetings and talks with agents of the Northern Empire’s government at neutral locations, probably within the FZR or even one of the griffon border towns.”

“I don’t really like the tone that sets for talks,” Lady Turquoise said.  “I’m asking them to trust me, and then I bring spies?  It seems disingenuous.”

“You don’t think the Northern ponies will bring agents?  Spies?” Sir Steadfast said.  “I can assure you they will.  In fact, it may be safe to assume they already have agents within the Diarchy.”

“They do?” Lady Turquoise asked.  “You know that, for sure?”

“I said it may be safe to assume so, Lady Turquoise,” Sir Steadfast said cautiously.  “If I knew something like that for certain, it would be classified, wouldn’t it?”  Lady Turquoise nodded slowly, taking another bite of her wrap while she paused to think.

“I wouldn’t be too bothered by the idea of Mystic agents within whatever entourage goes to communicate with the Empire.  As long as I had some sort of assurance that they would be acting under the direction of whatever Jubilant was in charge, and not operating on their own.”

“I’m sure some sort of assurance could be made,” Sir Steadfast nodded slowly.  “Thirdly, I think it would go a long way if the Jubilant could offer some sort of honey to sweeten the deal.”

“And do you have something already in mind?” Lady Turquoise mused, and Sir Steadfast nodded.

“I have a few ideas.”

Emberglow wasn’t sure, but it felt like a breakthrough had happened in the conversation.  The discussion became more casual after that, without the sense of subtext that had been making her nervous.  The two Knights spoke of different projects the two orders were working on, and even engaged in some bantering political discussions that mostly flew over Emberglow’s head.  She’d never bothered much with local politics, and from what she’d heard of the relationships between the five orders, it was more of the same.  Petty rivalries, pride and arrogance, scandal and sensationalism.  She imagined she’d have to start paying attention sooner rather than later, but it just all felt so petty to her.

When they were done eating, Sir Steadfast paid for their lunch over Lady Turquoise’s objections.  The two mares parted ways with the older stallion, with Lady Turquoise wearing a cautiously optimistic smile on her face as she shook his hoof goodbye.

“I’m not entirely sure exactly what happened there,” Emberglow finally admitted after the two had walked in silence for a few moments.  Her Knight smiled patiently.

“Well, sounds like a great teaching moment, squire,” Lady Turquoise said smugly as the two wove through a growing crowd on their way back to the Jubilant Annex.  Emberglow wondered what was happening; ponies were milling about as if waiting for something to happen.  “What do you think happened?  Do your best.”

“Um, politics?” Emberglow ventured vaguely.  Lady Turquoise laughed.  Emberglow had done well in social sciences class when the tests were from facts and theories in books, written down in paper and not in real life conversations with real life ponies.  She was a tailor’s daughter, and she knew she would always struggle with some of the things that her noble-born fellow students took for granted.

“Try a little deeper than that, squire,” Lady Turquoise instructed.

“Well, it seemed like Sir Steadfast wanted to help you, but couldn’t really.  So he waited for me to introduce the two of you?”

“Possibly.  Most likely he engineered you being my squire to begin with.  At least in part to reach out to me and offer support.”

“Why?” Emberglow asked.  “Why use subterfuge?  If he was familiar with your proposals, why not just reach out and offer help?”  The crowd was growing thicker, and there were sounds of commotion from over near the entrance to the justice building.

“I don’t know for sure, this is only speculation.  My guess is that he wanted to, and got shot down by somepony with more clout in his own Order.”

“But why, though?  Wouldn’t everypony benefit if the word of the Saints spread to the Empire?”  Emberglow asked.  Lady Turquoise laughed, and Emberglow blushed.  “Look, I know just how naïve that sounds.  Really.  But maybe I had hoped Knights would be beyond that.”

“You know as well as I do, Emberglow.  Not even Knights are perfect.  Ponies have ambition, jealousy, and greed.  And yes, those things are sinful.  But it’s quite easy for a pony to convince themselves that their own petty desires are the will of the Saints.”

“’Twist not these words to your own profit,’” Emberglow quoted.  “’Therein lies the path of self-deception and damnation.’”

“From Saint Twilight’s own pen, even,” Lady Turquoise agreed.  “But while the Book of the Saints is the bedrock of all truth, that doesn’t mean we all agree with each other’s interpretations.”

“I always thought the Confessors were in charge of the interpretation of the Book,” Emberglow said.

“It’s always been a bit unclear what the Saints ultimately intended.  We Jubilant have always taken that responsibility, and have clashed with both the Mystics and civilian confessors in the past.  We know the Knights were designed to be equals, so no one group is supposed to be stronger than the others.  It leads to bickering and dissention at times as each Order wants to enforce their particular interpretation of the Book.  Each group sees their own version of the greater good, and is frustrated when the others don’t see what they see and fall in line.”  Lady Turquoise let out another laugh.  “Not that you’ll need to look too hard into the politics between the Orders.  The Radiants have always traditionally stayed out of the infighting.”

The crowd was much thicker, and the sounds of angry shouting floated from a concentration of ponies in front of them.  Lady Turquoise said nothing, but with a grim look stepped in front of Emberglow and held her back with a hoof.  It was an oddly protective move, and it made Emberglow feel weirdly good that her Knight’s first instinct would be to step in front of potential danger.

“What’s going on?” she asked the Knight, who shook her head.

“Protests.  See the signs?  There’s some ponies picketing in front of the Justice building.  Looks like things are getting tense.”

The situation did seem like it was becoming violent.  There was a line of armored Knights Vigilant, each one carrying a heavy truncheon.  In front of them was a gaggle of angry ponies, many carrying signs that read ‘Free Red Pen’, or some other variant of the sentence.  There were other signs demanding free speech. There were even a few with insulting caricatures of the Knights Vigilant.

“Oh. It’s that,” Lady Turquoise said dismissively.

“What’s going on?” Emberglow asked.  Lady Turquoise shook her head and began leading them backwards, away from the crowd.

“Actors and poets.  There was an arrest made recently.  A playwright named Red Pen.  He was arrested for heresy.  His trial was a few days ago, and the sentencing was going to be today.  I don’t pay much attention to what kinds of plays and music the common ponies are consuming.”  Belatedly she realized who she was speaking with.  “Sorry, Emberglow.”

“No, it’s fine,” Emberglow said.  “Why was the playwright arrested?”

“He wrote a heretical play.  When his local confessor told him to change some things, he refused and went forward with getting the play produced anyways.  When somepony from my order went to see the play, she alerted the Mystics and the Vigilants. The playwright, director, producer, and many of the actors were taken in for questioning.  But I only know bits and pieces of the story, from gossip around the Annex.”

There was shouting from the protesters now.  Some of the ponies were surging against the line of Vigilants.  Partially in anger, and partially because of the press of protesters behind them.  The orange armored Knights were shoving back.

“We should get back,” Lady Turquoise said carefully.  They weren’t close to the epicenter of the protest, but it would still be safer the further away they were. Still, as she looked at the protestors pressing in on the tiny group of Knights, she felt an urge to do something.

“Do you think they’ll need help?  The Knights are outnumbered,” Emberglow said.  Lady Turquoise smirked.

“Good to know what kind of Knight you’re going to be,” she said.  “They’re probably fine, but it wouldn’t hurt to offer.  Carefully fly over and get in touch with whoever is in charge.  I’ll try to find a way around the crowd.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow said quickly, spreading her wings and taking to the air.  None of the protesters were airborne, and Emberglow could see only one Knight Vigilant in the skies.  The orange armored pegasus flew over to Emberglow with challenge in his eyes, before noticing her squire robes.

“Sorry to bother you,” Emberglow began as the pegasus stallion slowed to a hover in front of her.  “My Knight and I were passing by.  Is there any way we can help?”

“That’s your Knight down there?” the stallion said, motioning with one hoof at the pink robed figure of Lady Turquoise, still making her way away from the crowd.

“Yes, sir,” Emberglow said.

“Not much you can do, then.  We’ve sent for some of the Radiant to help.  Things are getting nasty, we’re expecting violence as soon as the arrests start.”

“Um, I-I’m not a Radiant, but I’m aspiring to be one.  I’m medically trained as well.  I would love to help however I can.”

“A Radiant in training?  Maybe.  Get with Lady Yellowtail on the ground.” The pegasus stallion pointed at a blonde Lady Knight, wearing the orange armor of her Order, who was coordinating the Vigilants and shouting orders.

“Yes, sir,” Emberglow repeated.  She flew down to land next to the lady Knight in question.  The Vigilant eyed her approach suspiciously.

“Squire, state your name and purpose,” the Knight barked.  Emberglow wasn’t bothered by the gruff order, but she was a little intimidated by the mare’s demeanor.

“Emberglow, ma’am.  Squiring for Lady Turquoise of the Jubilant.  We saw the commotion and wanted to offer assistance.  I’m aspiring to the Radiant, and I’ve received medical training.  Your pegasus said things might get violent soon.  I can do first aid and I’m practiced in healing spells, if I have a rune quill or gauntlet.”

“Don’t have any spares.  But as soon as we start making arrests, things are gonna get nasty.  Can you follow orders?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow nodded.

“Where is your Knight?”

“Trying to find a safe way around the crowd, ma’am.  She’s an earth pony.”

“Good.  Stay back, at least five paces behind me, but close.  I’ll call your name if we need your skills.  When your Knight gets here have her stay back with you.  By Saint Applejack’s grace we won’t need either of your help, but I’m not betting on it.”

“Yes ma’am,” Emberglow repeated, assuming a position on the cobbled street as ordered by Lady Yellowtail.  The orange armored Knight proceeded to ignore her as she continued to issue orders to her outnumbered Knights as they tried to wall off the Justice building from the increasingly rambunctious protestors.  The protesters began to push their way towards the building, and the Knights pushed back, becoming increasingly stern in their measures to make sure the civilian ponies didn’t make it past them towards the Justice building, where Emberglow assumed their playwright hero was being sentenced.  Emberglow was focused on the ponies themselves, so she didn’t see when the first rock came sailing out of the crowd to smash into the street just a few feet to the left of Lady Yellowtail.

“Who threw that!?” the Knight Vigilant shouted angrily.  She raised her gauntlet and cast a spell, enhancing her voice to spread menacingly over the crowd.  “Citizens, this protest is illegal.  Lay down on the ground and place your forehooves over your head and you will not be harmed.  Anypony still standing will be considered violent and be treated appropriately.  You have…”

A second rock sailed out of the protesters, then a third.  This one came down, shattering right against Lady Yellowtail’s helmet, just on the forehead.  It wasn’t a regular stone, Emberglow realized, but a cobblestone pried up from the street.  The Knight cried out in pain as broken splinters of stone rained into her eyes and muzzle.  Instinctively she sat back on her rump and raised her hooves to rub at her injured eyes.

“No!  Lady, no, don’t rub them!  Let me look!” Emberglow called out.  “Be still!”  She felt a jolt down her spine.  She was a squire!  And she’d just shouted an order at a Knight!  She shoved her panic down as she dashed to the Knight’s side, who was gritting her teeth in pain with her eyes clenched shut.  Emberglow reached the Knight, desperately looking around at the situation.  Knights Vigilant were wading into the crowd of protesters, laying about with truncheons.  Protesters were fighting back, using their signs to batter at the armored figures that were advancing on them to little effect.  Ponies were already down on the ground, clutching bleeding heads or oddly-angled limbs.  Some few had laid down as instructed, now being bludgeoned by the hooves of the combatants trampling about above them.  She glanced around and matched eyes with the pegasus who she’d first spoken with.  She waved him down.

“Your commander is injured,” she told him quickly.  “I need water, and inform whoever Lady Yellowtail’s second-in-command is that she won’t be able to carry out her duties.”

“That would be me, squire,” the pegasus said, raising his voice to carry over the tumult.  “I have nopony to send.  Everything is-“ his gaze drifted back to the chaos that was unfolding in front of them.  “Excuse me.  You’ll have to make do until the Radiants we sent for get here.”

“Emberglow?  What do you need?” came Turquoise’s voice as the pink robed mare galloped up.

“Water.  Hurry!” Emberglow shouted, and her Knight, though looking shocked, turned and galloped towards the justice building.  She turned to the wounded Vigilant.  “Lay down, Lady Yellowtail.  I’m going to remove your helmet.  Keep your hooves out of your eyes and face, okay?  Stay calm.”

“I’ll t-try, squire,” the mare said through gritted teeth.  Blood seeped down cuts in her face, and shards of stone jutted out in places.  “How fare my K-knights?”

“Not your concern now, Lady.  Your second in command is handling things.  Trust him, and stay calm,” Emberglow said.  She glanced at the incipient riot, hoping that she was telling the mare the truth.  She wasn’t nearly experienced enough to know how well or badly things were going, but there were dozens of wounded, nearly all protesters.  She did her best to tune out all that extraneous noise.  She had a patient already, and if those ponies hadn’t wanted to be injured, then perhaps they shouldn’t have questioned the will of the Saints’ representatives.  The thought was surprisingly bitter, and she felt guilt flow into her for thinking it.

Lady Turquoise rushed up with a canteen of water, and Emberglow took it with a quick thanks, before sending her mentor back into the Justice Building for more.  Gently Emberglow pushed the wounded Vigilant onto her side and began flushing out Lady Yellowtail’s eyes.  The mare showed the resolve of a veteran Knight; despite a few whimpers and cringes of pain, she remained as still as possible while Emberglow muttered comforting and encouraging nonsense.  As she poured water over the wounds, she did her best to remove the larger pieces of shrapnel from around her muzzle.

“You’ve been blessed by the Saints, Lady Yellowtail.  You’ll have to spend some time with the Radiants when they get here, but I can’t see any major pieces of shrapnel in your eyes.  Mostly just dust and tiny particles.  I don’t believe there will be any permanent damage.”

“T-thanks, squire.  Where is Sir Ratchet?  I need an update on the situation.”

“Your second-in-command, lady?” Emberglow asked, glancing about.  She could see the pegasus directing the Knights Vigilant as they pacified the remaining rioting crowd.  Most had fled, many were down on the ground either of their own accord or due to injury.  Several were not moving.  Emberglow pushed it from her mind again.  “He’s doing fine.  I don’t see any serious injuries among your Knights, ma’am.”

There was a hoof on her shoulder.  Emberglow looked up, surprised, into the gentle eyes of an unfamiliar Knight Radiant, wearing her white painted armor.

“Well done, squire.  I will heal her injuries now.  Thank you.”

“Um, of course, ma’am,” Emberglow stammered.  “Is there any more I can do?”

The Knight Radiant’s attention was on her glowing rune gauntlet and the runes she was already writing over Lady Yellowtail.  Her response was distracted.

“The Vigilant will only see criminals and enemies as they round up these miscreants, not wounded ponies.  Ponies that might die if they don’t receive some help.  My sisters and I will be working with the wounded Knights.  Can you look for some of the worst cases and do what you can?”

“T-tell any Vigilants who challenge you that you have my authority,” Lady Yellowtail chimed in, her voice still hoarse with pain.  Emberglow’s heart soared at the trust that had been placed in her.  

The protest was completely over.  The Knights were still standing.  The protesters who had not fled, whether voluntarily or not, were on their bellies on the cobbled street.  Many were bleeding or bruised.  Out of the corner of her eye, Emberglow saw Lady Turquoise rush up, carrying more water and a bag full of bandages.  She glanced at the crowd, then at Emberglow.

“In this, I am your squire, Emberglow.  Just tell me how I can help,” the Knight Jubilant said.  Emberglow smiled, though it was a bit grim as she considered the task ahead of them.

“Yes ma’am,” she said with a note of determination in her voice.  With a gait far more confident than she felt inside, Emberglow trotted towards the first patients.
> Chapter 10
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


	Chapter 10


Emberglow’s Dream Journal, Entry 5

Last night, I dreamed about the mare in the moon again.  At least, I think I did.  I never saw her, but I heard her voice.  At first it was tears and sobbing, but when I began flying towards the sound, I think she realized I was there.

I’m still convinced this was some sort of lucid dream.  I knew I was dreaming, but I was in control of most things.  I was in a forest, and the sounds of crying and sobbing just kept getting louder as I got closer.  Finally I flew into the clearing where the sounds were coming from.

The mare wasn’t there, or at least I couldn’t see her.  I absolutely knew she was there, though (dream logic, I guess).  I think she hid herself from my sight, somehow, but when I entered the clearing she stopped crying.

“Emberglow...” Her voice was sweet and musical, as usual when she addressed me.  It floated like a wind, rustling the leaves on the trees around me.

“Can’t you tell me who you are?” I asked.  This was the fifth time I’ve dreamed of this mare, and I was growing much more curious.

“You’re about to fly into a storm, Emberglow,” the voice replied.  I don’t even know if she heard my question.  “But you’re strong.  Keep your ears open, my little pony, and listen with your heart.”

I felt a cool breeze blowing over my fur and feathers.  It felt so much like the loving embrace of my mother that I longed to hug her back, but there was nothing to hug.  I opened my mouth to speak again, but my alarm woke me up.  I nearly didn’t get up, but I remembered that Lady Turquoise said we had somewhere important to go early this morning, so I forced myself out of bed.  

Saints, she’s being so annoyingly cryptic about this whole thing.

1111 AF, Ruins of Old Canterlot

“So your Knight didn’t tell you anything about this trip either?” Emberglow asked Lofty as the two of them sat across from each other on the rattling train.  It was chugging its way up the mountain towards the ruins high on the mountain above New Canterlot City.

“Just that we’ll be finishing our last six months as squires up in the ruins, and that there’s a lot of training that happens, more classes, more learning, and lots of secret stuff.” Lofty seemed much less curious than Emberglow, maybe even nonchalant.  It was a touch annoying.

“That’s more than what Lady Turquoise told me,” she growled.  “She pretty much shoved me onto the train with a muffin and a giggle, and said ‘good luck’ before walking off.  You’d think after a year of working together, she could be a bit less frustrating.”  She rolled her eyes.  “I think she thinks she’s funny.”  Lofty laughed, and Emberglow glared at him.

“Oh, Saints, it’s so good to see you, Emberglow.  Letters weren’t enough,” he said as he chuckled.  “Speaking of letters, you said you were in a riot recently? How was it?”

“Well I was behind the front lines. Just doing first aid and stuff,” Emberglow demurred, embarrassed by the eagerness she heard in his voice.  “It was a group of actors and theater ponies protesting the arrest of some playwright.”

“What did he do?”

“I don’t know.  Just that the censors objected to something in his play, and he refused to retract it.”  Emberglow shrugged.  She’d never bothered to learn more about why the ponies had been upset; her focus had been more on the emergency medical response.  “Besides, my story’s not that impressive.  What about you?  Your letters seemed to suggest you were dating, what, about a dozen mares?  Two dozen?”

“Not that many!” Lofty yelped, and Emberglow smirked.

“So it was more than one, then?” she said slyly, and Lofty blushed.

“Can we talk about something else?” he pleaded, rubbing his hooves together nervously.  Emberglow laughed, but silently she agreed with him.  It was just a bit too close to uncomfortable territory for the two of them.  

She glanced out the window, watching the bushes and trees growing out of the side of the mountain whiz past them. “I haven’t ridden a train since I was a foal,” she said softly. 

“Wow, really?  I travel by train all the time.  Our family’s country manor is…” Lofty began, then trailed off with an uncomfortable laugh.  “Um, yeah.  Never mind.  I’ve been really working hard at not accidentally sounding like a rich jerk.”  

“You’re fine,” Emberglow laughed, waving off his apology.  “It’s a noble effort.”

  Lofty grinned at her teasing tone before moving on.  “So, how is your Knight’s project going on?”

“It’s going well.  I don’t know how she’s going to cope without me, though,”  Emberglow huffed, slightly annoyed.  If she’d had a bit more preparation before she’d been unceremoniously dumped on a train full of confused and excited squires, maybe she could have prepared Lady Turquoise a bit better for the meetings, interviews, and other plans they’d planned for the coming weeks.  She sighed.  “She’ll be fine, though.  She’s smart, and now thanks to me, she’s organized.  Sir Steadfast is working with her, too.”

“That’s good.  You still sound worried, though,” Lofty teased.  

“Yeah, a little. At least she said she’d write.” Emberglow rolled her eyes before changing the subject to something less frustrating.  “Anyway, did you finally decide which Order to join?” 

“It took me a while.  When I was a foal, trying for the Knighthood was always the plan, but I think I always saw myself defaulting to the Adamant.  Joining the ranks of the family’s legend for derring-do and heroics, I guess.  But as I grew up, that appealed to me less and less.  I think all the time I’ve spent with Lady Mercy has rubbed off on me.”

“Um, you know you can’t join the Radiants, right?” Emberglow teased.  Lofty laughed.

“Yes, yes.  I don’t exactly have the equipment for it,” he replied, and Emberglow blushed.  “That’s not what I meant, though.  Lady Mercy and I spent a great deal of time at a military hospital with physical therapy, rehabilitating soldiers with permanent injuries.  Amputees, that sort of thing.  It made me think about how I wanted to help ponies.

“I spoke with a lot of soldiers, Emberglow.  Common folk with backgrounds just like you. Um.”  He paused for a second, seeming to realize that he might be saying something insensitive.  He glanced at Emberglow, his eyes wary.

“Go on,” she prodded gently.

“I don’t know how else to put it, Emberglow.  Ponies sometimes get into the military to escape their lives.  We have it good in the city, Emberglow.  Much better than most.  Sometimes ponies sign up for the service just because they don’t wanna be trapped on a farm their whole life.  It made me think that those ponies need somepony looking out for them.  Somepony on their side.”  He stopped, looking embarrassed.  “Look, it sounds a little silly saying it out loud.  I’d be the first to admit I’m a bit removed from the plight of common ponies.  But I’m going to learn what I can.  I’ve decided to join the Vigilant.  So I can advocate for ponies.  The less fortunate, that sort of thing.  I think that’s the work the Saints are calling me to do.”

“Lofty, that’s amazing!” Emberglow smiled widely.  It wasn’t hard to be proud of her friend.  “I’m sure Saint Applejack is pleased with you.”

“I hope so.” Lofty smiled in return.  “Lady Mercy approves.  I had a lot of talks with her.  She’s amazing.”

“Yes she is,” Emberglow agreed, thinking of her own all too brief encounters with the Knight Radiant.  With a stunned, excited sort of realization, it dawned on her that the next time she saw Lady Mercy, they would probably be sisters in the Order. Her heart pounded with excitement, her hooves tapping against the train car floor in an excited tattoo.  “So… what are we going to be doing on top of the mountain?”  Her voice glowed with naked eagerness.

“No clue,” Lofty laughed at Emberglow’s enthusiasm.  “I know we’re going to be trained by our future Order.  We get to learn their secrets, whatever that means.”

“I’m really curious,” Emberglow admitted.  “I can’t wait.”

It turned out that neither of them would have to wait for much longer.  The train’s gentle ascent finally came to an end, and Emberglow and Lofty both looked out the car’s window to see a small, lonely station.  The platform was tiny, and full of Knights in robes.  The largest number of them were dressed in the sky blue robes of the Knights Adamant, though there were also a sizable number dressed in the pink robes of the Jubilant as well.  There were less of the Mystics and Vigilant, and the Radiant were the fewest of all. In fact, Emberglow was almost certain there was only a single Knight Radiant,  standing out in the sea of colored robes.  One by one, the train attendant called out each squire’s name, assigning them to the Knight who would be in charge of their training.

“Squire Emberglow, report to Lady Whispery.” The attendant called her name, and she and Lofty shared a farewell hug before she stepped off to find her new mentor.

It turned out that Lady Whispery was the only Knight Radiant standing on a platform that was full of over energetic squires.  She was easy to pick out of the crowd in her snow white robes complete with Saint Rarity’s cutie mark symbol on the flank.  Emberglow trotted over, weaving past the other squires.  It seemed like there was already another aspiring Radiant who had found their way to Lady Whispery first and was speaking with her. Emberglow thought the figure looked vaguely familiar, almost like… 

She came to a stumbling halt, earning a few disgruntled looks from the other squires moving about.  Almost unthinkingly, she clenched her eyes shut and breathed three deep breaths slowly, inhaling through her nose, exhaling through her mouth, before forcing her eyes open again.  

Standing in front of Lady Whispery was a pastel purple earth pony with a familiar midnight blue mane. The squire who was apparently to be her fellow student, whom she would one day call "Sister", was Astrolabe, one of her bullies from the Ivy Seminary. 

Suppressing a shudder, she forced herself to look forward as she walked the rest of the way to the Knight Radiant, trying her best to ignore the other squire.

Lady Whispery was a middle aged pegasus mare, with a short cut white mane and yellow fur and feathers.  She wore glasses, and had a patient, matronly smile.  A nametag was pinned to her robes.

“You’re Emberglow?” the Knight asked, and Emberglow nodded, trying not to be too dismayed that Astrolabe was there.  Astrolabe looked equally displeased at Emberglow’s presence.  “Good. If you’d both follow me please.”  She sighed.  “Only two this year.  Oh well.”

As the two squires followed Lady Whispery out of the station, Astrolabe muscled her way in front of Emberglow with an upturned nose and an arrogant swish of her tail.  Emberglow eyed her, suppressing an annoyed huff.  She couldn’t even begin to imagine why this absolutely stuck up and vicious mare would think that she would belong with the Knights Radiant, an order dedicated to compassion and healing.  It was an unworthy thought, and one that left her simmering with guilt, but it wouldn’t let go.  

The three of them made their way through the crowd and queued up to exit the building; the single exit was creating a bit of a bottleneck at the mouth of the building.  Emberglow stretched her neck to look over the crowd of ponies, seeing two Mystic guards checking each pony that exited the station, ensuring that only Knights and squires were admitted into the old Canterlot.

“They’re really serious about security,” she noted.  Astrolabe sniffed, which Emberglow pointedly ignored, while Lady Whispery nodded.

“The Knights all hold this place sacred,” she said.  “It’s important to all the orders.  This place is the heart of Knighthood.”  There was a fondness in her voice as she spoke, an earnest sort of fervor.  “We are the only ones allowed in.  Just Knights and squires.”

The station exited onto a packed dirt path that had been trod on by thousands of hooves over centuries.  It was clear of debris or ruins, but to the right and left, in an absurd display of irrational architecture, cracked and crumbling white spires jutted into the sky.  Some were even built into stilts or horizontal platforms jutting from the side of the steep mountain.  Emberglow had read about the old city, but to see it herself was incredible.  Indeed, all of the squires had gone silent, slowing almost to a standstill as they saw the impossible city clinging to the side of the mountain.

“This is unicorn arrogance in its finest,” Lady Whispery said softly.  “They weren’t content to build on flat ground like a normal pony would, instead they had to warp the landscape to their liking.  It sends a message to the rest of the ponies.  ‘Look at us,’ it says.  ‘Look at our majesty and our power.’  And where are they now?”  She gave a humorless laugh.  “That’s why we leave Old Canterlot like it is.  So that we never forget what hubris looks like.”

“Didn’t the Diarchs themselves live here at one time?” Emberglow asked, ignoring the glare Astrolabe was giving her.  “Why didn’t they put a stop to…” she gestured with her hoof at the extravagant devastation that surrounded her.  “All this?”

“We don’t really know,” Lady Whispery said thoughtfully.  “I’d like to think they tried to guide ponies with their example and the holiness of their presence, but we’ll never know for sure.  The Saints themselves were silent on the subject.” 

“There’s so much we don’t know…” Emberglow murmured, and Lady Whispery gave her a glance.  

“At least they gave us everything we need,” the Knight Radiant said, and Emberglow nodded.  “Now.  During your time here in the ruins, we ask that you remain within the Palace, or on the paved streets.  It is forbidden for Squires to explore the ruins.  I have to emphasize this specifically.  Every year we catch one or two young Squires wandering around in the ruins.  Sometimes they’re just curious, sometimes they’re looking for a convenient spot for a lewd assignation.  These little trips will not be tolerated, and will be punished severely.  I won’t have to worry about that with the two of you, will I?”  Both of the squires shook their heads.  “Good.  The ruins were left as they are out of respect for the Diarchs and the Saints, not to provide a playground for immature foals.”  Emberglow had to suppress a smile; she felt like she was being scolded by her mother.  She could hear some of the other groups of ponies moving up the street through the ruined town as well. It sounded like everypony else was getting a version of the same admonishment.

“Now, here’s what your schedule will look like while you are here.  Every morning, you will rise at five thirty for exercise and morning prayers.  Breakfast is at seven, followed by instruction in rune magic until noon.  After lunch, we will study the history and teachings of Lady Rarity, followed by a free period where you are allowed to choose a subject to study more specialized knowledge.  After dinner you will have personal time, until lights out at ten.”  The Knight went through the schedule so quickly that Emberglow wondered if she should have taken notes, somehow.  “Up until this point, everything you have been taught is common knowledge, shared among Knights, clergy, and lay ponies alike.  From here on out, you will be learning the secrets of the Knights, and the secrets of Lady Rarity and the Radiant.  These things are not to be shared with anypony outside the order.

“Finally, one last thing.  As the only two candidates for the Knights Radiant, you will be sharing a room together.  I’ve seen the looks you’ve given each other, and I have to ask.  Will you be able to get along well enough to not bicker?”

Astrolabe looked back at Emberglow, her expression a mix of anger and frustration.

“We will do our best, ma’am,” Emberglow spoke up for both of them, and a flash of bitterness crossed over Astrolabe’s face.  Emberglow shrugged; what had the other mare wanted her to say?

“Good.  I know you are young, but I expect the best behavior of my young squires,” Lady Whispery said, and Emberglow once again got the sense of motherly authority from the mare.  There was something odd about the mannerisms, about the way she was moving, that suddenly caught Emberglow’s trained eye.

“Ma’am, can I ask a question?” Emberglow ventured.

“Of course, dear.  What do you need to know?”

“Are you carrying one of the Seamstress’ Orphans?” Emberglow asked.  While Knights Radiant swore an oath of celibacy, there was a great need throughout the Diarchy for pegasus births.  It was incredibly rare.  So, pegasi among the Knights Radiant were allowed, if they so chose, to be artificially inseminated by an anonymous pegasus stallion donor, in hopes of producing a rare and valuable pegasus offspring.  Of course the Knight couldn’t raise their own child; regardless of whether the foal was an earth pony or pegasus, it was given to surrogate parents to raise.  While rare, these foals sometimes referred to themselves as the Seamstress’ Orphans, in honor of their symbolic mother, Saint Rarity herself.

“I am, squire,” Lady Whispery said, sounding impressed.  “I didn’t think I was showing yet.”

“It was how you were moving, ma’am.  And there’s just something motherly about you,” Emberglow finished the last with a blush of embarrassment.  Lady Whispery laughed softly.

“Thank you, squire.  I will probably be delivering shortly after the two of you take your oaths.”  She paused thoughtfully. “I seem to remember reading something in your file about conventional medical training.  It’s quite impressive that you picked out my pregnancy so quickly.”  There was no recrimination in her voice for the off-topic question, but Emberglow couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed for asking such a personal query.  

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow said, suddenly very wary of the other squire walking in front of her.  She was well aware of the jealousy and vitriol that had been directed at her in the Ivy Seminary because of her scholastic achievements, and she didn’t want to give Astrolabe any more reason to lash out at her.  From the sour glances she saw from the mare every few seconds, however, Emberglow was sure that ship had already sailed.  She tried to content herself by looking out over the forbidden ruins, taking in every detail about the abandoned city that she could.

The buildings around her were beautiful ivory spires, somehow still elegant in their cracked and fallen state.  The path the ponies trod was surrounded by elegant mansions, most enclosed by crumbling walls featuring overgrown estates.  It was amazing, given how long this city had been abandoned, that the flora had not taken over the entirety of the path.

“Lady Whispery, who maintains the city?” Emberglow asked.

“While all of the Orders claim the city as our sacred home, the Mystics have taken upon themselves responsibility for the city.  They take care of the roads, and study the ruins, searching the debris left behind for anything of value, any hint of the Saints and the Diarchs.”

Up ahead, a tremendous and graceful palace emerged on the town’s horizon.  Its majestic spires were intact, and even at a distance Emberglow could see that it had been maintained with loving care.

“Canterlot Palace, squires.  We are treading in the hoofsteps of the Saints and the Diarchs.  You are on holy ground.”  The Knight’s voice was reverent as she spoke, and even the other ponies around them had grown soft and solemn.  At the same time, though, Emberglow also kept one thought on the front of her mind: the city, this holy place, had been built by the tainted magic of unicorns.  It was an unsettling thought, and Emberglow shoved it aside.

As they approached the palace, Emberglow realized that it wasn’t a single building, but a walled complex with dozens of buildings.  The wall was nearly six ponies high, and made of alabaster.  It was ancient, but clean, and capped with battlements.  Towers at regular intervals were topped with conical purple roofs, and Emberglow could see purple armored Mystics patrolling the tops of the walls and lurking behind windows in the towers.  The street they were walking on ended in an elaborate gilded gate, bordered by two of the towers and guarded by two armed Mystics.

“That’s a lot of guards,” Astrolabe commented.  “They can’t possibly think the palace is going to be attacked, can they?”

“It has been before,” Lady Whispery said enigmatically.  Emberglow opened her mouth to ask more, but before she could speak, the shuffling crowd around her came to a halt. The ponies had all reached the gilded gates, and a sort of anticipatory hush fell over the crowd, their conversation dulling to a murmur.  They gathered in front of the gates, waiting for something to happen, and Emberglow’s question flew out of her mind in her burgeoning curiosity.  The assembled squares all fell completely still when they saw the glow of rune magic as one of the Mystic guards, an older mare, drew in the air with her gauntlet.  It was a voice amplification spell.

“All who are here, heed my warning,”  her magically enhanced voice boomed out over the crowd.  “This place is sacred and secret, hallowed by the Knights who walk its grounds, and by all the Knights who gave their lives in the war against heresy and darkness.  Only those who have sworn the oath of the Squire, or the Oath of Knighthood, may enter.  All others be damned, and cursed for the next three incarnations.  If you enter here, keep these secrets close to your heart and reveal them to nopony.  Break this command and be damned, and cursed for the next three incarnations.  To those with pure intent, enter, and find learning and rest.”  She tapped the butt of her spear twice against the street, and the gates  swung inwards.  The ponies in front, nearest the gates, hesitated, stepping forward slowly and cautiously.  Urged forward by their Knights, the squires finally managed to step inside the outer walls and catch their first real glimpse of the inner courtyard of Canterlot Palace.

The inside was like history frozen in time.  The buildings here were ancient but well-repaired, still retaining much of their elegant grandeur.  The inner grounds looked like a park, with elegant vine-covered arches, graceful stone bridges over gently bubbling streams and clear ponds covered with lily pads.  While the place may have been empty of all ponies but Knights, there were countless other forms of life; birds of all colors, small mammals, and insects darted about the perfect gardens.  The paths that cut through the plant and animal life seemed like intrusions into the immaculately curated wildness of the grounds.  

“There are several buildings on the grounds,” Lady Whispery told them in a soft voice.  “I will show you where you may go.  All of the Orders have their own buildings here, and we keep our secrets closely.  Trespassing on another Order’s territory is forbidden.  If you become lost, find any Knight and they will tell you where you may go.  We will first be heading for the Shrine of the Generous, our headquarters here at Canterlot Palace.  It’s not as large or impressive as some of the other Orders’ buildings, but I think it’s the most beautiful.”  The Knight smirked.  “I might be a touch biased, however.”

This close to the Palace itself, Emberglow felt like an ant, dwarfed by the utter majesty of the Diarchs’ home while walking among mortals.  It looked like exactly the kind of place the masters of the sun and moon would have once lived; beautiful, extravagant, and graceful, with perfect arches and buttresses.  Emberglow’s heart soared at the idea that she would soon be able to walk in those halls, to step in the places where the Saints stood.

The Shrine of the Generous was tucked away in one of the more heavily wooded areas of the ground.  The building itself was a flat roof with a garden on top.  The grey stone walls were covered with trellises full of emerald green ivy.  The double doors in front were small, made of stained wood with painted carvings of Saint Rarity’s cutie mark in front.  A Knight Radiant in perfect, immaculate white armor stood on guard in front of the door.  The mare on guard nodded and smiled at Lady Whispery as she approached.  Lady Whispery returned the greeting, but did not pause to speak as she opened the door and ushered the Saints inside.

“Welcome to the Shrine of the Generous, squires,” Lady Whispery said.  The door opened to a small foyer, complete with a cloakroom.  Beyond that lay a parlor filled with pillows and couches, a rather cozy looking room with a fireplace and a stuffed bookshelf.  To Emberglow, it immediately felt like her room at home; small, cozy, and full of books.  She grinned as she looked around the room, and even had to stop herself from trotting forward to read the titles on the books.  She knew where she’d be spending lots of her own free time.

The Knight gave the two squires a quick tour of the small facility.  On the bottom floor was the entrance, the parlor, and a kitchen with an intimate dining room attached.  Upstairs were the bedrooms for the individual Knights who were staying at the Shrine, as well as a bedroom for the two squires. There was also a narrow spiral staircase that led to the roof, with access to the garden that Emberglow had seen from the outside.

“We do all our own cooking,” Lady Whispery said as she showed them the kitchen.  “We always have at least one sister assigned to the Shrine to for upkeep and cooking duties for any who wish to find peace here.  Once you are a full Sister, you’ll be able to consider this place as your home.  You have full use of the parlor, the dining room, the gardens, and the kitchen.  Do either of you know how to cook?”

“No ma’am.” Astrolabe and Emberglow both shook their heads.  Emberglow could bake a little, thanks to her mother, but she’d mostly focused on her studies as a young foal.

“You will be learning the basics while you’re here,” the Knight proclaimed.  “We all take turns cooking.  Now, head up to your room and unpack.  I will be in the parlor if you need me.  Once you’re done, feel free to relax here or come down and meet your future sisters with me in the parlor.  And squires?  Welcome to Canterlot Palace.”  The two squires trotted upstairs and into their sparsely furnished room.

“I knew.  I knew you’d be here, with your arrogant, smug, jumped up attitude and your ugly peasant face,” Astrolabe muttered the second the door was closed.  She looked miserable.

“I thought you said you could get along?” Emberglow asked softly as she set her bags down on one of the two beds.  Inwardly she steeled herself for the argument she felt coming; she felt the sour twist of anger in herself, and she knew it wouldn’t help anything if they were both acting emotionally.

“You said that, not me.”  Astrolabe tossed her bags onto the other bed with her back to Emberglow.  “Besides, Lady Whispery isn’t here right now.”  

“I don’t want to spend the entire time here at war with you, Astrolabe.” Emberglow was trying to remain patient, but it wasn’t easy.

“You can always go home then.  I’m sure your peasant parents miss you.”  Astrolabe’s voice was saccharine, fakely sweet as if she’d just had a pleasant idea.  Emberglow had to bite back a snarl, and counted out at least three deep breaths before responding.

“I’m not going home, Astrolabe.  If I can’t convince you to try and get along, can we at least try to ignore each other?”  Emberglow asked, trying not to sound like she was pleading.  Astrolabe spun and glared at her, mouth open for a retort.  Emberglow could see the conflict in her eyes.  Suddenly she sighed, sounding weary.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to.  Emberglow, I hate you.  I hate you so much.  You don’t belong here, and you’re the reason my best friend got drummed out of Seminary.  You’re so smart and so smug about it, and you’re nothing.  Common dirt.  How can you think I could ignore that, and set it aside?”

“Maybe because we’re on the same side?”

“Don’t you dare put us on the same level,” Astrolabe breathed, trembling with fury.

“Green Fields made her own bed, Astrolabe.”  Emberglow felt the wall of patience she had built slipping as the frustration she felt slipped into her own words.  “She was warned.  She made her choices, and her consequences were completely out of my hooves.  Lady Amaranth was already watching what was going on.  If the two of you hadn’t vandalized my dress, she’d be here alongside us.”

“Shut up, would you?” Astrolabe sneered, and let out a shudder.  “I’ll... I’ll pretend.  For my sake.  And for the Order.  But you’re going to fail, and you’re going to disappoint us all.  Do you know how I know?”  Emberglow shook her head wordlessly.  “Because you’re nothing.  And you’ll always be nothing.  I’m better than you.  Green Fields is better than you.  She’s already back at the Seminary, and when she gets to our level, she’ll show how much better than you she is.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t work out something better,” Emberglow said sadly.  Astrolabe snorted, turning back to her task.  “I don’t want to hate you.”

“As if anything you thought mattered to me,” Astrolabe snarled.  Emberglow gave up, falling into silence.  She quickly emptied the rest of her bags, including her own Book of the Saints, a few personal effects, and her journal and quills, into the hooflocker at the bottom of the bed.

“I’m going down to the parlor,” Emberglow announced to the silent room.  Astrolabe grunted and swished her tail angrily, but didn’t turn around.  With a shrug, Emberglow turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.  Just the mere presence of a physical barrier between her and Astrolabe brought a sense of guilty relief.  She did her best to put a smile on and trotted downstairs to the parlor.

“Is Astrolabe coming down?” Lady Whispery asked from where she was reclining on a pile of pillows.  There were no other Knights about, but Emberglow could hear the sounds of other ponies moving about the building.

“I don’t know,” Emberglow said softly, trying to keep any hint of distress or animosity out of her voice.  Lady Whispery’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

“Oh well.  If she needs more time to unwind, I can speak with her in a bit.” Lady Whispery shifted uncomfortably on her pillows, standing up with a grunt of pain.  “Sorry.  They never tell you about the muscle soreness and discomfort that comes with pregnancy.”  Emberglow just nodded as Lady Whispery walked over and pulled a single typewritten sheet off the bookshelf.  “So I mentioned that you would have some free time each day to choose your own guided study.  There are several other Knights Radiant staying here, and each one is an expert in a different field.  You’ll be able to pick your courses of study while you’re here.  It’s not just the Radiant that will be teaching you; your mentor, Steadfast Word, sent me a letter.  He suggested you may benefit from some of the civics and politics lessons offered by various Mystics and Jubilant.”  She passed the sheet over to Emberglow.  “This lists some of the specialty teachers and subjects that are available to you.”

Emberglow’s mind lit up with possibilities as her eyes scanned the list.  There were all sorts of options; psychiatry, specialized pegasus combat training, shield spells, even things like military tactics.  She felt spoiled for choice.

“I don’t have to pick now, do I?”

“No.” Whispery smiled indulgently.  “We’ll take some time and talk it over tomorrow."

After a half hour, Astrolabe came down as well.  She was all perfect politeness and smiles, and seemed eager as Lady Whispery handed her a copy of the same page.  Together, the three of them discussed schedules and class options until Lady Whispery said it was time for dinner.  The two squires followed the quiet Knight into the kitchen to help her prepare.

Dinner was a peanut-sauce cucumber and carrot stir fry, seasoned with all sorts of exotic spices from across the sea.  Emberglow felt totally comfortable helping out in the small kitchen, and she had to admit that any lack of experience Astrolabe showed, she made up for with an eagerness to learn that surprised Emberglow.  The two of them studiously ignored each other as much as possible, communicating only when absolutely necessary. 

The dining room was beautiful in its simplicity.  The Knights Radiant swore an Oath of Poverty, so their furnishings were an exercise in practicality and stability without extravagance.  The table was solid wood, and the dishes were simple and sturdy.  While they cooked, the other Radiant stationed at the Shrine had gathered and eagerly awaited their meal.

Dinner was friendly and homey.  The other Knights were eager to meet the new squires, and went out of their way to make the squires feel comfortable and welcome.  Emberglow felt like even Astrolabe’s chilly presence couldn’t cool the warmth she felt at that moment.  She knew the next few months would probably be full of gruelingly difficult study and effort, but knowing that this would be a part of the everyday made even the thought of all that effort appealing.

After dinner came evening prayers, and a devotional prepared by one of the Knights.  The squires were strictly warned that the next day would be intense, so it was suggested they turn in early to get as much rest as possible.  The two squires cleaned up after dinner and retreated to their bedroom.  Emberglow decided to try to reach out a little.

“Good night, Astrolabe,” she said softly just before the other mare turned out the light.

“Shut it,” Astrolabe spat.  It hurt, but part of Emberglow was simply glad the conversation was over.  She tried not to sigh out loud as she nestled into the warm covers of her bed.


*   *   *   *   *


True to her word, Lady Whispery woke the both of them up at five thirty and provided them with jogging sweats. The two mares changed quickly and followed Lady Whispery into the cool clear night.

After the light morning exercise the ponies had a few minutes to shower and change into their robes, and then it was off to breakfast in the palace’s huge, vaulted dining hall. It was the squires' first time in the imposing, mostly empty building.  Emberglow couldn’t stop thinking about where she was long enough to enjoy her breakfast.  Her imagination went wild; the Diarchs had lived here.  Had they eaten meals in this room?  Had conversations with servants?  Taught lessons to the Saints?  A billion questions echoed through her mind.

Their first lesson was a grueling, three hour marathon lesson on healing runes.  Lunch was followed with a history and theology lesson taught by Lady Whispery.  They read from the Book of the Saints, mostly, but the most interesting part was a disclaimer that came at the end of the lesson:

“Knights represent the best and brightest that ponies have to offer.  We are the elite, the greatest, the first and last line of defense against the darkness and evil that fill the world.  It is a grave responsibility, and it is only set upon our backs because we are able to bear it.  While you are learning here at the Palace you may see and learn things that are disturbing to you, or that challenge your faith in ways you didn’t think you could be challenged.  This is a test of your integrity and faith.  Stay true to the Saints and you will be fine.”  Both of her students asked what she meant, but Lady Whispery simply explained enigmatically that it would become clear over the course of her lessons.

Days turned into weeks, and then into months.  Unlike in the Ivy Seminary, there were no large classrooms, merely Knight tutors teaching groups of squires no larger than two or three at a time.  One of the most fascinating was Lady Whispery.  She wasn’t exaggerating when she spoke about her instruction challenging faith.  It was opening Emberglow’s eyes to a number of uncomfortable facts.

The stories in the Book of the Saints were morality tales, presented in a sort of ethical black and white.  The good guys were always good, the bad guys were always bad, et cetera.  There was no room for nuance or shades of grey.  Lady Whispery turned all that on its head.

“The Book of the Saints is first and foremost a religious text, not a historical one,” Lady Whispery told the two squires one day.  “Though the events detailed occurred in truth, the stories are presented in a way to teach us lessons first, and remain true to the details of the event second.  That is not to say that they are false, or fiction.   Merely that we need to be aware of the tone in which the Saints penned their own lessons.  There may come a time when you come face to face with evidence or ideas that contradict what is taught in the Book.  Remember, regardless of what you learn, the Book of the Saints is the true will of the Diarchs.”

It had taken a few moments for Emberglow to work out exactly what Lady Whispery was implying.  Did such evidence even exist?  She felt a strange, uncanny sort of discomfort deep inside, perhaps even a premonition.  It was as if the Knight Radiant was trying to warn her of something, but didn’t want to even put it into words.  It reminded her of her thoughts on the way into the city earlier, about how the entire holy city was built by tainted unicorn magic.

From Lady Whispery they learned not just of the acts of Saint Rarity, but of generations of Knights Radiant throughout the Diarchy.  “We have all kinds of mares in our history, from heroes to scoundrels, from cowards to martyrs.  Each one is an example to follow or a warning to be heeded.  One of the most frightening stories in our history is that of Lady Sweet Breeze and Sir Arctic Breeze.  They were twins, and  they rose their way through the ranks of their orders until she was Grand Master of the Radiant and he led the Angelic.  They were as close as siblings could ever be.

“They teach that nopony saw the betrayal of the Angelic coming.  But this is untrue.  Lady Sweet Breeze did, because her beloved brother told her everything.  She begged him to stop, to move off the path he was trotting down, but he was implacable.  She could have warned the other orders what was coming, or even gotten help from some of the other Grand Masters.  But she did nothing more than try to convince him to change his mind.  She couldn’t bear to see anypony hurt her brother, so she remained silent.

“This is the peril of our Order.  Our sin, our weakness,” Lady Whispery taught.  “Much like the Angelic, we often think with our hearts, rather than our heads or our faith.  Remember, the Book will not lead you astray.  The Diarchy may have imperfect ponies leading and guiding it, but at the helm are the Sun and Moon.  Stay obedient, and you will never be led astray.”

The story of the fall of the Angelic took a dominant place in several of Lady Whispery’s lessons.  The Radiant spoke of it differently than Emberglow was used to.  She remembered her religion teachers at the Ivy Seminary speaking of the Day of Hope, the hypothetical fabled day when the Knights Discordant were redeemed and returned to the fold, as at best idle superstition, at worst ignorant heresy.  The Radiant viewed it almost as an inevitability, though Lady Whispery was sure to stress that this wasn’t something that they were to speak to other Knights about.  Everypony in the Orders had a different view on the subject, and it wasn’t the role of the Radiants to create debate.  When Emberglow asked why the Radiants taught these views, however, Lady Whispery was silent.

“You will learn that when you swear your oaths,” she told the two of them mysteriously.  Astrolabe shrugged it off, but Emberglow’s curiosity was piqued, and Lady Whispery’s silence was maddening.


*   *   *   *   *


 A few nights later, as Emberglow slipped into the bedroom to prepare for the night, Astrolabe was there, standing next to the window.  She stared out into the palace grounds, her gaze troubled.  There was a sheet of folded paper in one hoof.

            	There was a part of Emberglow, maybe even a healer’s instinct, that wanted to fix whatever was wrong with Astrolabe.  She even opened her mouth to say something, but hesitated.  Last time she’d tried to share words with Astrolabe, she’d been told to shut up.  Regretfully, she closed her mouth again and moved over to her own bed, trying to steel herself for another night of awkward silence with the frustrating mare before Emberglow finally drifted off.

            	“Um,” Astrolabe whispered, and Emberglow looked up.  Astrolabe looked uncomfortable, even angry, and her eyes were fixed on the floor between them.  Angrily Astrolabe smashed the paper onto the nightstand between their beds.  “I…”  That was about all she could manage, shaking her head with frustration.

            	“This is going to be a long few months if we can’t even talk to each other, Astrolabe.”  Emberglow kept her voice low; she didn’t know how much sound carried between the walls of the Shrine of the Generous, but she didn’t want Lady Whispery to overhear and think they were fighting.  She paused before she could begin changing, if only to hide the nervous twitch she seemed to get in her hooves whenever Astrolabe tried to speak to her directly.

            	“Don’t you think I know that?” Astrolabe snarled, blinking tears that Emberglow hadn’t noticed.  Emberglow shrugged and waited.  “I… I’m sorry.”

            	“What was that?” Emberglow’s ears jerked towards the other mare, her eyes narrowing with confusion.  She was absolutely sure she’d never heard Astrolabe say those words to her.

            	“I got a letter from Green Fields,” Astrolabe muttered.  “She’s moving on to her own squiring, after you got her suspended.  She… wanted me to pass on a message.”

            	“And?”

            	“She’s sorry, okay?”  Astrolabe’s eyes finally met Emberglow’s, and they burned with hurt.  Emberglow didn’t quite understand.

“She’s… sorry?”

“Are you deaf?” Astrolabe snorted.  She snatched up the letter again and read, her voice twisted with sarcasm.  “‘Please tell Miss Emberglow how deeply I regret my actions at the Ivy Seminary.  I was cruel and vicious, and I never should have tormented her the way I did.  Please pass on my sincerest apologies for destroying her dress, and all the harmful pranks I pulled.  And please ask if she would mind if I sent her a letter myself, to say these things to her directly.’”  Astrolabe huffed and crammed the letter back down on the table.

            	“Is that it?” Emberglow asked.  Honestly, she didn’t know how to feel about all this.  On the one hand, it felt like a win; she’d never expected an apology, so this was a welcome surprise.  On the other hand, there was a small, mean part of her, a dark, shriveled, wounded part of her heart that wondered what Green Field’s angle was, or what she stood to gain from making this apology.  It hurt to think that way, so she tried to shove it deep down.

            	“No.  She also said…” Astrolabe trailed off.  Emberglow waited, watching while Astrolabe’s gaze darted between Emberglow and the letter she’d slammed into the nightstand, before blurting as quickly as she could.  “ShesaidIhavetoapologizetoo!”

            	“Oh,” Emberglow was stunned, and a burning spark of her own anger ignited deep inside that wounded part of her.  She clenched her eyes shut as she tried to shove the anger aside, but it slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it.  “Do you even mean that?  You haven’t changed at all, have you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Astrolabe challenged, her face flushed with emotion.  

“You know what I mean,” Emberglow snarled, surprising herself with her own bubbling fury.  The image of the dress spun in her mind, and bitter tears brimmed in her eyes.  Her anger congealed into impulsive, acrid words, and she spat them out without thinking.  “You’re just a dumb sheep.  You’ve never had an original thought in your entire life.  You’re a follower, Astrolabe.”

“What do you know, commoner filth?” Astrolabe shrieked.

“Am I wrong?” Emberglow’s heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears.  “Everything you did to me was her idea, right?  Not yours?”  Astrolabe sneered, but didn’t deny it.  “You’re like her lapdog, always doing everything Green Fields tells you to.”

            	As soon as she said it, Emberglow knew she’d gone too far.  Astrolabe’s face twisted in a paroxysm of rage.  Her hooves trembled as she reached for the closest thing; the letter she’d been holding.  She crumpled it into a ball and hurled it at Emberglow with a shriek.

            	“You can just burn in Tartarus, peasant bitch!”  The letter bounced limply off Emberglow’s shoulder, but Astrolabe was already reaching for something else to throw.  Emberglow decided it was time to go, darting out of the room and slamming the door shut behind her before Astrolabe could decide to start throwing hooves.  She flinched as she heard two thuds of impact as something, probably books, thudded against the door.  When Astrolabe didn’t bother to open the door and continue their altercation, however, Emberglow breathed a sigh of relief.

            	“What was that all about?” Lady Whispery’s stern voice made Emberglow jump so high she almost took flight.  With a sheepish glance behind her, she looked into Lady Whispery’s disapproving eyes.  “Well?”

            	“It was my fault, Lady Whispery,” Emberglow admitted reluctantly, panting a bit as she came down from the adrenaline of the fight.  “She was trying to apologize, and I—I uh, yelled at her.  Escalated things.  I shouldn’t have, I’ll go back and…”

            	“Squire, wait,” Lady Whispery ordered.  “If I heard correctly, she’s quite upset.  Go cool off.  Go for a walk, or something.  I’ll speak with you both in the morning at breakfast.”

            	“But I should…”

            	“You should follow my instructions, squire.  I’ll get your side of the story in the morning.”  Lady Whispery’s voice brooked no argument, so with drooping ears and shoulders, Emberglow slunk out of the Shrine of the Generous.

            	The moon was full and heavy in the starlight sky, and Emberglow found herself thinking of her strange dreams about the mare in the moon.  She hadn’t dreamed about the mysterious voice since she came to Old Canterlot, but being out in the night made Emberglow feel at least a glimmer of Her presence.  

A gentle moonlight jog didn’t seem like a bad idea at all, suddenly.  She set out at an easy pace, moving through the paved trails of the palace grounds, letting all her thoughts slip away.  The only things she was aware of were the silvery moonlight and the gentle breeze over her fur.

            	Emberglow picked her trails at random, paying no attention to the direction she was going.  It wasn’t against the rules as long as she stayed on the paved paths, so she allowed herself to wander, revelling in the cool night. 

            	As she ran, she idly wondered what was out there in the city itself.  Her gaze drifted upwards to the spires she could see just above the wall, on the other side.  What kind of ponies had lived in those spires?  What had their lives been like?  

Her thoughts floated gently until rather abruptly halting when she stumbled right into another pony with a thud.  The pony grunted in pain, and the two of them tumbled onto the ground.

            	“Emberglow?” came the muffled voice of the pony underneath her.  

            	Emberglow scrambled up. “Lofty?” she yelped.  “Oh Saints, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and I ran right into you, I’m so sorry...”  She stopped apologizing because Lofty was laughing.

            	“I’d say I’m surprised, but I’m not,” Lofty snorted, groaning a bit as Emberglow helped him to his hooves.  He had on a pair of saddlebags over his squire robes, and he nervously checked them with his hoof as he stood.  Emberglow wondered what he had brought outside with him, but he didn’t open the bags to look.  “I don’t know why, but I expected to see you tonight.” He paused, then added with a grin, “Well, maybe not in such a dramatic fashion.”

            	“Um, really?” Emberglow asked, blushing. Lofty chuckled, and shrugged.

            	“Yeah, I guess.”  Lofty scratched at the back of his head, embarrassed.  “I know it sounds weird, but it was just a thought I had when I left my room.  I knew I’d see you tonight.”

            	“Uh…”

            	“Look, um, it’s going to sound really ridiculous when I say this, but bear with me, okay?” Lofty began, his voice nervous.  “I… sometimes have weird dreams.  Dreams where I talk to the moon.  Or, a mare from the moon. I...” Lofty faltered, trailing off awkwardly. “Never mind.  It’s silly. I should—”

            	“You dream about her too?” Emberglow breathed.  Lofty’s eyes went wide, and he reached out with one hoof, grabbing Emberglow’s shoulder tightly.  There was a desperate sort of glee in his eyes.  “The first time was that night.  The night you“ — she took a sharp breath —  “confessed to me.”  He was nodding quickly.

            	“I thought I was crazy, the first time.” Lofty spoke quickly, almost stumbling over the words.  “I even asked Lady Mercy Song.  She said it might be…” His voice dropped to the barest breath of a whisper.  “You know.  Her.  The Diarch of the Moon.”

            	Emberglow’s eyes shot wide.  Luna.  Even thinking the holy name felt blasphemous.  She’d never made the connection.

            	“You think she’s speaking to us?” Emberglow squeaked, trembling.  Lofty nodded silently, his face filled with awe.  She should feel terrified.  Awed.  Insignificant and unworthy.  Instead she looked up at the moon and felt…loved.

            	Accepted.

            	Comfortable.

            	“You feel it too?” she whispered.  “Like when your mother smiles at you.”

            	“Oh Saints, no,” Lofty snorted.  “I hated my mother.”   He looked up at the moon himself.  “No, for me it’s more like a sister.  Except one that doesn’t hate you and judge everything you do.” His eyes moved to Emberglow, shining with emotion.  “Like when you smile at me, Emberglow.”

            	Emberglow blushed, but couldn’t help but smile.  In an instant, all of the hurt, the lingering awkwardness and scars of their falling out, dissolved in the look they shared.  Lofty’s own smile was almost as bright as the moon.

            	“So, was she the one who brought you out tonight?” Emberglow asked, still glowing a bit from his compliment earlier.

            	Lofty nodded.  “You too?”

            	“I don’t think so.” Emberglow cringed as she remembered what brought her outside.  “It was a fight with Astrolabe.”

            	“Oh.  What’d she do this time?” Lofty sighed.  Emberglow reddened.

            	“Doesn’t matter.  It was my fault anyways,” she muttered.  “What was your dream?”

            	“She showed me the palace wall, and a crack in the wall.  I’ve been coming out here for the past few nights, trying to find the spot she showed me.  But in my dream, you were there too,” Lofty said.  “I think you had to be out here for me to find it.”

            	“Lofty, that makes no sense,” Emberglow said, but deep down she doubted.  It sounded like dream logic and they were, after all, talking about taking instructions from a mare in their dreams.

            	“I know.  I don’t care.  Help me find a crack in the wall, behind some topiary.  It should be large enough for us to fit through—“

            	“Lofty!  You’re thinking about going out into the city?” Emberglow gasped, nervously rubbing her hooves together.    “You know that’s forbidden.”

            	“I’d do anything to make Her tears stop, Emberglow,” Lofty said solemnly, and Emberglow’s throat tightened.  He was right, and she knew it; she felt the same thing he was expressing every time she heard the sorrow in the mare’s voice.  “If She wants me to see something out in the city, I’m going.”  

“But still,” Emberglow protested nervously, glancing up at the moon.  “I don’t want to get caught.”  She hated herself a little for saying that.  It felt cowardly. There was a small, usually silent part of her that envied her friend’s boldness.

“You’re coming with me?” Lofty said, his voice teasing.

“I didn’t say that,” Emberglow scowled at him. “But you really should think about this.  What happens if they catch us?  Do we get kicked out?”

“I don’t think they’d do that,” he scoffed.  “Especially not to you.  They need every Radiant they can get, right?  And we’ll be careful.  It’s only a problem if we get caught.” His voice lowered and became more fervent.  “Besides, I have to do it for Her.  I wish I could explain it, but I can’t.”

She nodded carefully.  “I’ll come with you, Lofty.”  She glanced up at the moon herself.  Wordlessly they began trotting near the wall, scanning for the topiary.  The whole time, Emberglow felt a growing coldness of guilt in the pit of her gut.  She was breaking the rules!  Even though a part of her felt Lofty was right, it still didn’t help the growing discomfort that turned her stomach and made her heart pound.

Emberglow didn’t know what she was looking for, but it wasn’t long before Lofty whooped in victory, pointing at a tall, rounded bush.  Sure enough, just barely large enough for the two of them to crawl through on their bellies, was a small crack in the wall.

            	“Emberglow, if you don’t want to go with me, I understand,” Lofty whispered as he eyed the crack.  “But I feel like I have to.  If Lady Mercy is right, and I’m really dreaming about Her, I have to see what She wants me to see.”

            	“I’m coming, Lofty.  I want to know, too.”  He nodded once, a jerky, nervous movement, and shuffled down onto his belly to squeeze through the crack.  She waited for him to pass through, glancing to the right and left on the trail to make sure they weren’t being watched before following after him.

            	Outside, the ruined city was almost pitch black.  The inner grounds were well lit by regular electric lights, but nopony ventured outside at night. Out here, the only light was the faint, silvery moonlight streaming in from between the buildings.

            	“C’mon,” Lofty whispered, nearly inaudible.  “Let’s get out of sight from the wall.”  Emberglow glanced up at the top of the wall.  There were no patrols yet, but that could change any second.  She followed him as the two galloped deeper into the dark ruins.

            	On the way into Canterlot the ruins had been full of wonder and mystery.  Now, shrouded in inky blackness, they were terrifying.  Broken spires cast moonlight shadows over shattered cobblestone streets.  Tightly packed, broken buildings closed around them claustrophobically.  Once they were out of sight of the wall, they moved slowly, picking their way cautiously between the bits of rubble.  Emberglow felt herself subconsciously drifting closer to Lofty.

            	“You’re not scared, are you?” Lofty teased sotto voce.  Emberglow scowled at him, an expression he probably missed in the blackness.  “You don’t believe the silly stories they tell about the ghosts out here, right?”

            	“I’m not scared!” Emberglow hissed back.  She felt her cheeks flush pinker than usual when she realized how much like a pouty foal she sounded like.  “What stories?”

            	“Oh, right, you spend all your time hanging out with the jerk.”  Lofty sighed.  “There’s a ghost in these ruins.  She wanders about the buildings in a hooded black robe, moaning and crying about her lost love.  It’s said she gobbles up squires who wander out of the palace into the ruins.”  Lofty’s voice changed as he told the story, taking on a theatrical lilt.

            	Emberglow laughed, a nervous, high pitched sound that was less amusement and more worried denial.  “You don’t expect me to believe that, right?  That’s just a ridiculous story they tell to keep squires out of the ruins.  There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

            	“I don’t know,” Lofty teased.  “Creepy ruins, moonlight shadows.  There could be all sorts of things out there.”

            	“Well, there’s no such thing as ghosts,” she muttered.  “Anyway, do you have any idea where we’re going?”

            	“I was just going to follow the moon,” Lofty replied cryptically.  Emberglow almost smacked him for the nonsensical reply, but looking up at the silvery orb hanging high above them,then back at the twisting streets and alleys ahead, she understood what he meant.  There was always one moonlit path just ahead that looked just a little less shadowed, just slightly better lit, or just a touch clearer.  The two squires walked close together, nearly brushing up against each other’s sides.

            	“Wait,” Emberglow said, pointing with one hoof.  They were on a street full of ruined shops, complete with broken, unreadable signs and shattered facades.  Behind the display window of one shop, broken probably hundreds of years ago, Emberglow saw what looked like the figure of a pony.  Both squires ducked, backing into the shadows across the street from the shop.

            	“Is that a pony?” Lofty whispered.  Emberglow narrowed her eyes.  It was hard to see, but a beam of moonlight was falling right through the display window on the pony shaped figure.

            	“No… it’s a ponnequin,” Emberglow said with wonder.  “This was a clothing shop of some sort.  She moved forward, but Lofty grabbed her.

            	“Emberglow!  You’re gonna go galloping inside the dangerous ruins without looking first just to check out a clothing shop?”  In the shadowy night, his face looked at least a little nervous.  “I thought you were the one who was nervous about being out here?”

            	“I’m just getting a closer look,” she shot back, but proceeded more cautiously as she drew closer to the shop.

            	Even in the shadowy moonlight, Emberglow could tell the shop was whimsically designed.  A short staircase, rounded outwards, led to a gaping open doorway that may have once held a wooden door.  On either side of the entrance were wide display windows, missing nearly all of their glass.  She stepped carefully across the broken cobbles in the street, her eyes stuck on the building.

            	It was strangely fascinating to her.  A thousand years ago, a pony, or maybe even a unicorn, had run this shop.  He (or she) had lived their life, sewing dresses and suits, running their business.  She wondered about that pony, about their story.  What had his hopes and dreams been?  His loves and fears?  It all felt so mundane and yet so mysterious.

            	There were more ponnequins inside, toppled and desiccated.  Emberglow could see open doorways to more rooms in the back of the store, as well as a rounded staircase reaching up to a balcony high above.  She looked back at Lofty.

            	“C’mon,” she called out.  Not waiting for him, she trotted up the stairs into the building itself.  Lofty scurried across the street after her.  “I don’t suppose you brought something that makes light, did you?”

            	 “In fact, I did,” he said smugly.  He reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a rune gauntlet.  “We’ve been issued our own, for practice between classes.  Here.”  He held the apparatus out to Emberglow. “You were always more clever at spellcasting than I was.”

            	“Thanks,” she said, and put the gauntlet on.  Dragging her hoof through the air, she drew the runes for a simple floating light orb.  It was a variation of the same simple spell they’d cast together, their very first time casting rune spells with each other back in Sir Sablebeard’s class.  An orb of light appeared, floating above Emberglow’s head and bathing the room in pinkish light.

The mysterious shop was, almost disappointingly, empty.

            	“Why did she want us to come here?” Lofty said, his voice echoing in the empty shop.  Emberglow shrugged.

            	“You’re sure this is where she was leading us?” Emberglow asked.  Her voice felt too loud for the room.  “What if…” she gulped.  “What if we were wrong?”  She didn’t want to be wrong about the mare in the moon.  She wanted Her to be real, to be the loving, nurturing creature she felt in her dreams.

            	“We’re not wrong,” Lofty looked around the room.  “There’s something here we were meant to see, I’m sure of it.”  His gaze fell on one of the ponnequins that appeared to be still standing.  “Hm.  That one has clothing, still.”

            	“That’s impossible…” Emberglow began, glancing where he was pointing.  Indeed, in the shadows was a figure with a black cloak.

            	Then, both squires let out a shriek of terror when the figure moved, lifting a black cloth-draped hoof to point at them.

            	“You don’t belong,” it rasped at them.  It’s voice was like silk dragging across gravel, somehow both rough and smooth.  “This isn’t your place.  You don’t belong.”

            	The pony was somehow behind them, appearing as if out of the shadows to block the doorway.  Emberglow’s eyes shifted to the large, open windows. There was enough space to jump out if they had to, and it was only a few feet’s drop to the ground.  Carefully she began edging towards one, and Lofty got the idea and followed.

            	“Who are you?” he asked.

            	“I don’t remember,” the dark figure whimpered, its voice echoing soulfully through the mostly quiet shop.  “I don’t remember anything.”

            	“Nothing?” Lofty sounded curious.  Emberglow shot him a glare, and he shrugged.

            	“Nothing.  I sold my memories for—“ she trailed off, her voice like the last wisps of a fading wind.  “—time. For more time.”

“Time?” Emberglow asked.

“They all died.  All but one.  I needed more time to find the one that went missing.  Why don’t I remember their names?”  She sobbed at the last, a desperate, aching sound.

            	“Why are you here?” Lofty’s voice was getting stronger, more confident.  When Emberglow eyed him, and the open window, he simply looked significantly up at the moon, just peeking through the open window into the darkened shop.

            	“Because I thought she might be here,” the figure said.  “I thought I felt her here.  Sensed her essence.  But it was only a relic, hidden and left behind and forgotten.  Like me.”

            	“Who is she?”

            	“I don’t remember!” the figure wailed in despair, stomping a hoof in frustration against the floor.  “It’s my fault she’s missing—“ The pony collapsed onto the floor, shaking with dry sobs.

            	“What happened?” Emberglow asked.  Her own voice felt hoarse with fear, but she couldn’t help her own growing curiosity.  Besides, the figure was frightening, but appeared harmless.  “What is your fault?”

            	“I don’t remember,” the figure repeated. The hood lifted just slightly, and Emberglow felt the fur on her neck stand on edge as she felt the weight of the creature’s gaze.  “Who are you?  You’re not her.  You don’t belong here.”

            	“I think—“ Lofty began carefully, taking a cautious step towards the hooded figure.  “I think I was sent here to meet you.  By the mare in the moon.  Do you know why?”

            	“No.”  The figure looked up at the moon itself, the mouth of its hood turning towards the open window from its spot on the floor.  “Maybe.  I need to find her.  It’s my fault she disappeared.”

            	“Is there something I can—“ Lofty corrected himself.  “—we can do to help you?”  Emberglow heard the empathy in his voice, the longing to resolve this creature’s distress, and she nodded.  She felt the same.

            	“You can find her.”  The figure gestured at the shop around them.  For an instant, Emberglow thought she caught a glimpse of the pony’s hoof through the cloak it wore; it was far too skinny.  “You have to find her!”

            	“But we don’t know who ‘she’ is,” Lofty reasoned.  “Can’t you just give us a hint?”

            	“I can’t!” it wailed.  “I don’t remember!”  The figure jerked it’s head upright, the black, shadowy hood staring at them.  “I don’t remember anything!”  It surged to its hooves, and just then a stray breeze caught the hood of its cloak, pushing it back off the figure’s head.  Underneath was a bare skull; no flesh, no fur, no mane, simply desiccated white bone, shining in the moonlight.  Black, deep empty eye sockets glowed faintly with a hint of blue light, and atop the thing’s head was a severed stump, where a horn had once been attached.  It was all too much for Emberglow; with a yelp of terror, she leaped out the open window, barely able to keep her hooves as she tumbled down to the cobblestones just below.  The sharp sounds of hooves on stone told her Lofty was just behind.

            	The two fled in a panic, galloping as fast as they could from the nightmare pony they’d just seen.

            	“Did you see the stump?” Emberglow gasped, out of breath and barely staving off panic.  Lofty nodded as the two dashed through the streets.  “Whatever that was used to be a unicorn, Lofty.  A unicorn!”

            	“I think it was just a ghost of some sort,” he shot back.

            	“There’s no such thing as ghosts!

            	“Then what do you call that?” Lofty almost shouted.  “It was some sort of walking skeleton pony!  I thought those sorts of things only existed in foal’s stories!”

Emberglow knew the kind of stories he was talking about; outlandish fantasies about Knights and other heroes fighting dire monsters in far-off lands.  But despite their panicked reaction, the skeleton pony hadn’t felt threatening like the monsters in those stories.  Just… sad.  Sad, and scared, and helpless.

            	“I—”

            	“Stop where you are!” somepony shouted as the two squires were suddenly illuminated by a moving circle of light.  Both ponies froze at the authoritative voice, trembling with exertion and not a little terror.  There was a clatter of hooves on stone as the source of the light, a flashlight enchantment shining off the rune gauntlet of an armored Knight Mystic, moved closer.  Emberglow felt her stomach sink.  The stallion shone his light over the two, who flinched and squinted away from the bright light.

            	“Squires,” he sighed, sounding annoyed.  “Of course it was squires.”  He turned and called back to an unseen partner.  “No need to sound the alarm, Quiescence.  Just a pair of troublemakers sneaking out of the palace.”  He turned a stern eye on the two, and Emberglow couldn’t help but shrink before him.

            	“Um—“ she began, but Lofty interrupted her.

            	“I’m sorry, sir, it was all my fault,” he said in a rush, glancing between Emberglow and the Mystic.  The tall stallion raised an eyebrow.  Emberglow stared at her friend.  “My friend, here, was only coming to get me.  It was a stupid dare, see.  Some of the other squires in my dorm goaded me, and I let them.”  His voice sank with shame. 

            	“Oh?”  The Mystic managed to sound both amused and stern, which made Emberglow feel a glimmer of hope.  Maybe they wouldn’t be expelled, or jailed, or questioned by the intimidating inquisitors.

            	“Yes, sir.  I’m sorry, sir.  My friend heard I was going, and she tried to stop me.  Please don’t punish her, sir, just me.”

            	“Did you see anything out in the ruins?” he asked, leaning close to scrutinize Lofty.  Lofty shook his head frantically.

            	“No sir,” he lied.  “We thought we saw something a few times, but it was just a trick of moonlight and shadows, sir.”  He injected his voice with just enough hopeful pleading that the Mystic laughed, a short, staccato chuckle.  “Wasn’t it?”

            	“Yes, squire, that’s all it was.  There are no ghosts in the ruins,” the Mystic said, rolling his eyes.  “You two, follow me.  Stay close, and do not wander off.”  The Mystic turned, and the two squires fell into step right behind him, sharing nervous glances.

            	“Sir, what will—“

            	“Be silent, squire, unless I ask you questions.  What is your name?”

            	“Lofty Tale, sir.”

            	“And you, mare?”  The Mystic’s light enchantment swung over the ruins, sweeping in front of them to light any obstacles in their path.

            	“E-Emberglow, sir,” she stammered.

            	“Very well, Emberglow and Lofty Tale.  A bet, you say?  And your friend simply came to try and stop you?”  He snorted.  “Is this your first time sneaking outside the walls?”

            	“And last, sir,” Lofty said, his fearful eyes meeting Emberglow’s.  The two shared a nod of agreement.

            	“And last,” the Mystic laughed harshly.  “This is no place for foals, even foals that are almost Knights.  Since you’ve been obedient, and you seem frightened enough, I think a warning may suffice this time.  But!”  he held up a hoof in warning, pausing and looking over his shoulder at the cringing squires.  “I know your names, and if either one of you are caught in the city without permission again, the consequences will be severe!”

            	“Yes, sir.  Of course, sir,” Lofty nodded.

            	The Mystic escorted them back through the gates, remaining stern and silent the entire time.  The knowing looks of annoyance they received from the other guards at the gate made Emberglow want to shrink inside herself and hide.  Finally they were back inside the well-lit palace grounds.

            	“Do I need to escort you back to your beds?” the Mystic asked.  Emberglow hoped he was just being dramatic.

            	“N-no, sir,” Emberglow stammered.  “We’ll head straight there.”

            	“Good.  I hope to never see you again,” he said finally, before turning back to the gate.  With only a glance, Emberglow and Lofty scampered away.

            	“You lied for me,” she breathed.  “You were going to claim fault for both of us.”

            	“You want to go back and confess the truth?” Lofty snorted.  “I don’t know what would happen if we told him what really happened, but I don’t want to find out.  Do you?”  She shook her head.  “I thought not.”  He paused, looking Emberglow close in the eye.  “I don’t think we should tell anypony anything that just happened, Emberglow.  I kinda regret even telling Lady Mercy.  Something tells me it could be bad.”

Emberglow nodded.  She didn’t know what would happen, but it probably wouldn’t be good.  She shuddered when she thought of interrogations by angry Knights Mystic, arrest, expulsion… quickly, she shoved those terrifying ideas out of her head.

            	Finally, the two split off towards their respective paths, pausing just long enough so that Emberglow could return Lofty’s rune gauntlet to him.  Emberglow galloped the rest of the way to the Shrine of the Generous, only stopping right at the door to catch her breath.  There was no ceremonial guard outside at this time of night, and Emberglow couldn’t see any lights on inside.  Once her breathing had returned to a normal rate, she slipped inside, hoping nopony was awake that she would have to explain herself to.

            	As silently as she could, she crept upstairs to the room she shared with Astrolabe, carefully pushing the door open with one hoof and peeking inside.  In the sliver of moonlight that their window let in, Emberglow could see the shadowy form of the other mare, asleep in her bed.  Emberglow silently crept into her own bed, not even bothering to take off her robe for the night.

            	Emberglow wasn’t surprised that sleep proved elusive.  For what felt like hours, her heart was still pounding with terror and adrenaline.  What had that creature been?  What was it doing here?  Did the Mystics know about it?  And why did it seem so sad and lonely?  There was a part of Emberglow that even felt guilty for panicking and running away like that.  She did her best to clear her mind, going through the deep breathing exercises that Lady Mercy Song had taught her.  It took a long time, but finally she was able to clear her head and slip into sweet sleep.


*   *   *   *   *


            	Emberglow wasn’t surprised when the dream came.  One moment she was laying on her mattress in the Shrine of the Generous, and the next she was laying on a bed made of clouds, looking up at the infinitely vast night sky. The stars twinkled in pinpricks of light that spilled over the canvas above her, like glitter scattered by a careless toddler.  The moon seemed so much larger than it was supposed to, and the sky seemed almost too small for it. 

            	“Please tell me what happened,” she said to the moon, then jerked a hoof to her mouth in shock.  She’d just asked a question.  Of one of the Diarchs.  She should be terrified, shaking in her hooves.  She should be on her stomach, grovelling in worship.  Instead she’d demanded answers to her petty concerns.

The moon didn’t appear too affronted, however.  She seemed to bounce a little in the air, making the night sky ripple and the stars swirl around it.  Emberglow thought it felt faintly like somepony giggling softly.  She suddenly felt a wash of comfort, like her mother tucking her into bed for the night.

            	“I’m sorry, Emberglow,” the voice floated down around her like a gentle ray of moonlight.  “I wish I could have prepared you better.”

            	“You can hear me?” she wondered.  The mare in the moon sometimes seemed to not understand or respond to her questions.

            	“Sometimes,” the voice said.  “Not always.  But sometimes I am stronger, and I can hear better.”

            	“That makes no sense,” Emberglow complained, and the moon bounced a bit again as the voice laughed.

            	“While you are in this place, I am stronger,” the voice explained, still tinkling slightly with amusement like bells echoing in the distance.  “No matter who uses it now, this city used to be mine.  If you sleep here, I can hear and respond, sometimes.  I promise I will always respond when I can, Emberglow.”  She heard a sigh, and the night seemed a little darker.  “What you saw tonight was a very old friend of mine.  Somepony who is lonely, afraid, and sad, and doesn’t even remember why she is that way, or how she got there.”

            	“Who is it?” Emberglow asked, eager and curious.

            	“Somepony who let her guilt outweigh her good sense, I’m afraid.  She was obsessed with fixing a mistake, and used a terrifying, dire spell to do so.  Now, all that is left is the pitiable, wretched creature you met.  An immortal, perhaps, but one without any memories.”  Emberglow looked up to see falling stars shooting across the sky, leaving streaks of light like the shimmering trails left behind by tears.

            	“Oh,” Emberglow whispered, feeling guilty.  “We… Lofty and I ran, when we saw what she was.  I’m sorry.”

            	“You have nothing to apologize for, my little pony.  I only wanted the two of you to meet her.  Someday, perhaps, one of you will be back, to bring her redemption and rest.”

            	“Who was she?” Emberglow asked again.

            	“An old friend,” the voice said cryptically.  “I owe her a great debt.  She helped give me perspective, once.  I was fighting with my beloved sister.  I was… jealous, bitter, and angry.  She helped us see things from each other’s perspectives. To… walk a mile in each other’s horseshoes, so to speak.”  She sounded amused.  “It took me many years to realize just how valuable that experience was for us.”  The voice paused, as if waiting for something, and the silence that fell was pregnant with expectations.  

            	Ember lay back on her cloud, watching the stars whirl playfully through the sky. This was all so much bigger than her, and she still didn’t understand so much. But she knew she had to help Her, if she could. “What do you want me to do, then?”

            	“I need you to remember this, Emberglow,” the voice whispered. The sky above stopped its whimsical dance, the stars settling back in their places as the voice became serious. “Remember what you saw, and what you heard.  All of Equestria is hurting just like that mare is.  We’ve forgotten what made us hurt in the first place.  You’re a healer, Emberglow.  A doctor.  We need you to help heal our hurt.”

“I don’t…” Emberglow gasped, suddenly feeling like she was drowning.  She didn’t quite understand what she was being asked to do, but it felt enormous.  Somehow she was supposed to heal whatever was wrong with the entire nation?  “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to yet,” the mare cooed soothingly.  A warm breeze blew over her, gentle and calming.  “You are just one pony, after all.  But even long journeys begin with small steps.  Finish your training.  Become the healer you were always meant to be.  Take your vows, but keep your eyes and ears open.  Let your stalwart heart and your compassion be your guide, in all you do.”


*   *   *   *   *


When Emberglow woke the next morning, Astrolabe was sitting up in bed, staring at her forehooves and her rumpled bedsheets.  She didn’t look up at Emberglow, but a twitch of her ears in Emberglow’s direction told her Astrolabe knew she was up.

“I’m sorry,” Astrolabe whispered.  The apology still sounded reluctant, and Astrolabe’s hooves kneaded the bed, like an angry cat.  “I’ll… t-try harder.  To be n-nice.”  Emberglow wondered if Lady Whispery had demanded the apology.  She glanced over at the nightstand; the letter from Green Fields was back on top.  It had been carefully smoothed out after Astrolabe had crumpled it to throw at her.

“Thank you,” Emberglow said.  She was at a loss for words.  “I’m sorry too.”  It came out in a rush.  “F-for what I said.  About you always doing what Green Fields said.”

“It’s true though, isn’t it?” Astrolabe spat bitterly.  “I’m just Green Fields’ little flunky, doing whatever she says.”

“I’m sure you’re more than that…”

“Spare me.”  Astrolabe snorted.  “Just go.  Please?  I-I can’t deal with this right now.”

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” Emberglow said as a farewell, quickly rounding up a change of clothes and her toiletries for the bathroom.  

Once she was in the shower, she twisted the faucet and let the hot water pour over her face and mane.  She tried to let the shower wash away the turmoil of her thoughts, but it wasn’t working.  Her mind kept going over the creature she’d seen last night.  Logically, she realized she should probably tell somepony.  Maybe a Mystic, maybe Lady Whispery.  But her heart said no.  The creature had startled her when its hood fell back, but Emberglow couldn’t remember feeling any hostility or danger from the mystery creature.

Thinking of the skeleton creature made Emberglow think of what the mare in the moon had said about the mysterious figure, about walking in another pony’s hooves.  Guiltily she recalled her own interactions with Astrolabe.

“It was just a dress,” she said out loud, cringing at the pain the words brought.  Even telling the lie in a shower, alone, felt blasphemous. “She may have been nasty, but she’s matured since then.  A little.”  This felt more honest.  “She’s scared, and misses her friend.”  That bit she wasn’t sure about, but it sounded right.  “Saint Rarity, help me please.”  She wasn’t sure when her lonely shower monologue had become a prayer, but it felt appropriate.  “I want to get along with my future Sister.  I don’t want to hate her.  Help me understand her, and maybe even forgive her.”

She stepped out of the shower, dressed, and trotted downstairs to the dining room, but when she entered the room, Astrolabe was not there yet.  Lady Whispery was all alone, waiting with a plate full of pancakes.  She motioned with one hoof, and Emberglow sat down in front of the pancakes, her heart pounding with nervous fear.

A lecture regarding the way she’d argued with Astrolabe was practically guaranteed.  Given that Emberglow felt at least partially responsible for the fight escalating the way it did, she felt a sense of guilty dread at the approaching conversation.  

Another thought occurred to her. What if Lady Whispery knew something about her sneaking out into the city?  What if the nameless Mystic guard had passed on their names to their teachers?  She had to suppress a shiver of horror.  

“Please, just relax,” Lady Whispery said gently.  It was impossible, but Emberglow did her best to pretend.  She tried not to shake as she took a bite of breakfast.  “I need to talk to you about yesterday.”  Emberglow nodded.  “Astrolabe told me a bit of your… hm… history together.  About how she and her friend hurt you.”

“She… did?” Emberglow asked, rather surprised at the other mare’s honesty.

“I’m not going to judge what happened in the past, Emberglow.” Lady Whispery’s voice sounded tired.  “As far as I’m concerned, each of you came to me with a completely clean slate.  But you both came with baggage, didn’t you?” She sighed.  “I want you two to find a way to get along.  But I can’t risk this feud the two of you have driving you out of the Radiant.  We need every single pony who’s willing to sign up.  So I have to ask: do I have to find seperate rooms for the two of you?  Separate training, seperate class time?”

There was a small, petty part of Emberglow that leapt at the idea.  Giving up would hurt, but there was something to be said for the peace of mind she’d feel, not having daily reminders of her torment back at the Seminary.  She’d have less distractions to completing her studies. But...

“No,” Emberglow said softly.  “I can make it work.  The fight last night was my fault.  She was trying to apologize, and I… reacted poorly.”

“Hmm…” Lady Whispery mused, the hint of a smile on her face.  “That’s not how Astrolabe paints the incident.  She keeps the blame for herself, said she was being rude and halfhearted in her apology.”

“She… does?” Emberglow was once again surprised.  Suddenly she wanted to talk to Astrolabe again.  “I…”

“If you don’t need me to switch rooms for you, I’ll respect that.” Lady Whispery interrupted.  She sounded pleased.  “I expect no more screaming arguments, though.  And no throwing things.”

Technically, only Astrolabe had thrown things, but Emberglow wasn’t about to correct the Knight.  “Yes, ma’am.  Thank you.”

“I’ll leave the situation for you two to handle.  If you need me, though, I promise to be an impartial mediator.  Please come to me before things get as bad as they did last night, okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” Emberglow replied, more enthusiastically this time.  It felt good to have an adult show that much trust in her, to allow her to resolve her own problems.  Perhaps it was because she and 
Astrolabe were nearly adults, and Knights, themselves, but it was still nice to have her growing maturity acknowledged that way.

A few minutes later, Astrolabe wandered cautiously into the dining room.  Lady Whispery rose, offering to put coffee on for the three of them and make a stack of pancakes for Astrolabe.  It was clear she was giving them a moment to themselves.  

Astrolabe sat at the table, her eyes darting between Emberglow and the door to the kitchen.

“I don’t like you,” she finally announced.  Her voice was soft and bland, almost emotionless.  It lacked the passion or anger Emberglow would have expected.

“I’ve never understood why,” Emberglow commented.  Astrolabe snorted.

“You wouldn’t.”  She shook her head.  “I don’t understand how Green Fields could change her mind about you so quickly.  It makes no sense.  But” — she let out a sigh —  “for her sake, I can keep the peace.”  She rolled her eyes, glancing at Emberglow with a wry expression.  “For real, this time.”

“You’re really loyal to her, aren’t you?” Emberglow asked.  “It’s kinda surprising.”

“Thanks?” Astrolabe raised an eyebrow.  Emberglow blushed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that as an insult.  I actually find it admirable.  I… had a hard time making friends when I was younger.”  She gave a weak laugh.  “I still do.”

“I’m not going to be your friend,” Astrolabe blurted out, quickly enough to make Emberglow jerk a little.

“No, that’s not what I…”

“I know,” Astrolabe interrupted awkwardly.  “This is difficult.”

“Can we start over?” Emberglow offered.  “Like, from the beginning?  Introduce ourselves, shake hooves, pretend we never met before this?” Astrolabe looked her up and down, and shook her head.

“You would offer that, wouldn’t you?” she said wryly.  “How can you not hate me?  We planned it together, you know.  Messing up your dress.  It was just luck that I was in the infirmary when it happened.”

“That makes sense,” Emberglow said.  She ignored the surge of anger she felt at the confession.  “I don’t want to hate you, Astrolabe.  Hate is ugly and leaves a nasty taste in my mouth.”

“But the noble and perfect Emberglow does feel it, right?” Astrolabe’s voice was thick with sarcasm.  Emberglow took a deep, calming breath and nodded.

“Yes.  I h-hate you, Astrolabe.  You and Green Fields tortured me for months.  But I don’t want to hate you.”  

“At least you can admit it,” Astrolabe said.  She took her own deep, calming breath, then held out her hoof.  “Start over.  Okay.  Let’s try it out.”


*   *   *   *   *


Dear Emberglow-

	Sorry about the short letter.  I’ve got very little time.  It’s a good news/bad news situation.

	The Northern Empire ambassador in Jubilation agreed to pass on letters to the Empire’s ‘Princess’!  Finally, we have a line of communication to the leader herself!  Things are looking up, and I owe it all to you and your help.

	The bad news is, now that there’s a chance for success, my superiors have decided that somepony with a “more eloquent quill than mine” should take over the letter writing part of the diplomatic process.  I’m being temporarily reassigned while letters are exchanged with the Empire. I’m disappointed, but they’re asking me to help with a team of Knights hunting pirates on the southeastern coast of the Diarchy.  At least I won’t get bored.

	Maybe I’ll see if you could get assigned down here once you swear your oaths.  Could be fun!  I might not be able to write for a while, so work hard and stay safe.  The next time I see you will be at your assessment.  IF YOU’RE PANICKING ABOUT YOUR ASSESSMENT I ORDER YOU TO STOP IT NOW!  You’ll be just fine.

Saints bless and keep you,

Lady Turquoise

	Emberglow reread the letter with a smile as she imagined Lady Turquoise on a sailing ship.  She wondered, idly, how the Knight would handle life on the seas.

It had been six months since Emberglow had said goodbye to Lady Turquoise, and it had passed like a dream.  Unlike graduation day at the Ivy Seminary, the time the squires spent in Old Canterlot would not end with a big ceremony with everypony attending.  The squires had assessments scheduled, where they would sit in front of a panel designed to determine if they had met the requirements for Knighthood.  Emberglow was nervous, even though Lady Whispery (who was doing just fine on near-total bed rest) and Lady Turquoise, nearly six months ago, had assured her it was nothing to be concerned about. 

The assessment took place in the council room where the Council of Five, the leading body of Knights, usually met.  The whole process was to take more than two days as each squire was called in individually and assessed.  When the day arrived, a trainload of Knights from the city arrived at old Canterlot.  They were the Knights who had mentored each of the young squires, here to participate in their assessment.  Emberglow spotted Lady Turquoise in the gaggle of rainbow colored robes and waved, but the Knight was too engrossed in a conversation with another pink-robed Jubilant to notice.  The Knights disappeared into the palace building itself, leaving the squires in a state of nervous excitement regarding their upcoming transition to full Knighthood.

Just like all the other squires, Emberglow was ready.  She’d been preparing for this moment for more than six years; three in medical school, followed by three years in Knight training.  She was ready to move on to her Knighthood, to serve Saint Rarity as one of her sworn children.  

The squires spent the day of assessment in the palace’s large dining hall.  After six months, the awe and wonder of the place had worn off for some, but not for Emberglow.  As she watched her fellow squires socialize and relax with each other, part of her wanted to chastise them.

“Familiarity indeed breeds contempt,” she muttered the adage. The squires were all together, so she was standing near Lofty, who overheard her comment.

“What do you mean?” he asked, and she laughed self-consciously.

“This place.  We’ve only been here six months, and already we’re laughing and joking.  Eating snacks and reading books and sparring.  I get that we’re bored, but this place…” she waved a hoof in a wide arch.  “This is where the Saints walked, Lofty.  The Diarchs.”  She pointed at a pair of squires over in the corner, a mare and a stallion who were cuddling and giggling as they flirted.  She motioned to another group who were laughing raucously at some joke.

“I get you,” Lofty said.  “But what would you do about it?  We can’t all be as holy as you, Emberglow.”  The last was meant teasingly, but it pricked Emberglow with guilt.  Maybe she was being too prideful, too judgmental.

“You’re probably right,” she sighed.  “I’m going to find a quiet corner or something to read.  Or write in my journal.  Or I don’t know.  I’m finding it hard to concentrate.”

“You and me both, Emberglow,” Lofty said.  “I can’t help but be terrified that I’m going to walk into my assessment and have laid bare every single weakness, every single failing, every imperfection, and have it paraded before me, before finally being driven out of Canterlot Palace with a mob of angry Knights on my hooves.”  Emberglow laughed at the extreme scenario, but a small part within her was afraid of exactly the same thing, no matter how irrational it seemed.  “At least you get to go before me.  They’re going in alphabetical order.”

Emberglow had noticed.  Astrolabe’s assessment had come and gone a few minutes ago.  The other mare had left the palace with a satisfied smirk on her face, so her assessment had to have gone well.  She did pause on her way out of the palace long enough to give Emberglow a polite nod.  While things were still tense between them, Astrolabe and Emberglow had established a sort of detached, professional politeness in the past few months that was a huge improvement on anything that had come before. 

Every few minutes an armor-wearing Mystic stallion would enter the hall and loudly call another name.  Finally, the Mystic called out for Emberglow.  Her heart was pounding, thumping in her ears as she followed after the stoic, purple-armored figure.  Quickly they walked down empty hallways before finally reaching a pair of huge double doors that reached high into the ceiling.

“These are the chambers of the Council of Five,” the Mystic said to Emberglow, then paused.  “It used to be their throne room.”  His voice was full of wonder and reverence.  There was no question who ‘they’ were.  Emberglow stared at the doors.  “Go on in.”

“I’m… afraid to touch the doors,” she whispered, starting at her own voice.  The Mystic stallion smiled indulgently.

“It’s just fine.  They’re waiting for you.”

Hesitantly, Emberglow reached out and laid a hoof on the door.  She pushed, and the door swung open slowly. The room was vast, and well lit, with two empty thrones on the far end.  The thrones were white and dark blue, respectively.  The rest of the room was taken up by a large, oval table with five chairs.  One was at the head of the table, just in front of the empty thrones. 

 In each of the five seats was a pony.  Emberglow recognized two of them, Lady Whispery of the Radiant and Lady Turquoise of the Jubilant.  Lady Whispery’s chair was different from the others; it reclined, and was covered with soft, velvet pillows.  Also sitting at the table was a Knight from each of the other orders.  With the exception of Lady Whispery in her robes, the Knights all wore their armor, each one clean and polished and resplendent in the colors of the Saints.  The Mystic was young, a stallion with grey eyes and a short cut orange mane.  The Adamant was a mare, middle aged and wearing a rainbow-colored patch over one eye.  The Vigilant was an ancient stallion.  There was a pile of documents spread out in front of each of the Knights.  

“We are here to consider the candidacy of Squire Emberglow,” the Mystic intoned, reading off a sheet he held in front of him.  “Squire, we have reviewed your paperwork and you have completed your training as a Knight.  We’ll begin with your mentor Knight.  Lady Turquoise, what say you to this mare joining our ranks?”

“Squire Emberglow is intelligent, resourceful, and strong.  She is honest and faithful.  During our time together, I found no fault that would keep her from being an asset to us.” Lady Turquoise’s voice was confident and sure, and she smiled at Emberglow as she spoke.  Emberglow smiled back, touched.

“Very well.  Squire Emberglow, you have proclaimed your intent to join yourself with the Knights Radiant.  Lady Whispery, what say the Radiant to this squire joining your ranks?”

“We would be pleased, and proud, to have this mare among us,” Lady Whispery said.  “She is talented and brave.  The Radiant see no reason why she should not join.”

“Thank you, Lady Whispery,” the Mystic said.  “Are there any objections from the other Orders?”  The ancient stallion from the Vigilant raised a hoof, and the Mystic motioned for him to proceed.

“Squire Emberglow,” he said, his voice trembling with age.  “I read in your history that you spent a great deal of time meeting with a counselor, a therapist, during your time at the Ivy Seminary.  Can you elaborate on the circumstances of this, and perhaps explain why we should advance a squire to Knighthood if she displays mental deficiencies?”

Emberglow’s breath caught in her throat.  Both Lady Whispery and Lady Turquoise looked at her, their expressions worried and surprised.  Emberglow tried to inhale, to get enough breath to speak.  What was she supposed to say?  What did he want to hear?  Nearly paralyzed by fear, she panicked, opening her mouth and beginning to speak.  The unadorned truth spilled out.

“I was bullied at the Seminary, because I’m a sponsorship,” she stammered.  “It was intense.  More than I was prepared for.  I ignored them for nearly the entire time.  Almost once a week they would break into my room and vandalize my possessions.  I had resolved to suffer in silence, and not say anything to anypony.  Finally the torment culminated in the destruction of… of…” There was a hitch in her throat, and she struggled to push the words out.  “Of something very precious to me.  But friends and instructors intervened.  One of the students got expelled, and my instructors insisted I speak to a counselor about what had happened, Lady Mercy Song of the Radiant.  She said I had been traumatized.”  She glanced from face to face at the table watching the eyes and faces of the various Knights.  The two who knew her looked worried, the Mystic politely curious, and the Adamant looked bored.  The Vigilant, the one who had challenged her, was impossible to read.  “I struggled, but I’m here right now.”  She didn’t know what else to say.

“The greatest of us did not reach greatness because we experienced nothing but clear skies and smooth sailing,” the aged stallion intoned sagely.  “We were battered by storms and by waves, and we’re all the stronger for it.  The strong meet their trials with courage.  The wise know when to seek help from their allies.  You have learned both lessons.  I have no objections.”  The Mystic opened his mouth to speak, but the Vigilant held up his hoof.  “On a personal note, I should like to apologize for the harm caused by my great granddaughter.  Her expulsion has been a trial, but she has weathered it admirably, and has learned from her mistakes.  You have my apology, and my thanks.”

“You’re…” Emberglow began, but then closed her mouth when the Mystic cleared his throat.

“Thank you, Sir Fields.  Any other objections?” He looked at the Adamant mare, but she shook her head.  “Very well.  Squire Emberglow, we find you worthy to join our number.  Please repeat for us the Oath of the Squire.”  Emberglow nervously cleared her throat. 

“I am a Knight of Equestria.  I uphold the Five Exalted Tenants with my life.  I protect my fellow Knights from harm.  I hold close to my heart the Elements of Harmony: Honesty, Loyalty, Generosity, Kindness, and Joy. I serve the Diarchy, its leaders and its citizens.  I keep watch against heresy and corruption.  I defend Equestria from enemies outside and within, with my life and breath.”

“Thank you, squire.  Lady Whispery, I remit her to your care,” the Mystic finished.  Lady Whispery stood slowly, grunting a bit with discomfort.  Hurriedly Emberglow rushed over to her side to offer a hoof.

“You okay, ma’am?” Emberglow asked, and Lady Whispery rolled her eyes.

“I’m fine.  Thank you, Squire, I’m not as fragile as I look.  C’mon, we’re due back at the Shrine for the remainder of your ceremony and assessment.”

“There’s more?” Emberglow asked, and Lady Whispery nodded silently.  Emberglow tried to stay close to the Knight without appearing to hover.  Regardless of what she said, the pregnant mare could really go into labor at any moment.  As a healer, Emberglow felt a duty to be ready to help however and whenever she could.  The Knight, however, was silent until they reached the Shrine of the Generous.

To be honest, Emberglow was confused.  The assessment had been much easier than she’d built up in her own head, despite being challenged a bit on her mental health.  Now, after weeks of anxiety, it was all suddenly over except for whatever mystery would be taking place in the Shrine.  She felt an odd sense of both relief and emptiness.  

Soon enough they were at the door to the Shrine, and Lady Whispery ushered them inside.  Once the door was closed and locked, Lady Whispery spoke again.

“There is one last truth we would share with you before you become our sister, Emberglow.  You are commanded to keep this secret, never to speak of it or reveal it to anypony else.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow said, hushed into reverence by the serious tone in the Knight’s voice.

“You have been taught that sometimes the truth of the Book is not always the same as the truth of history.  You hopefully have the wisdom to realize this is no contradiction, though weaker minds would lose their faith and fall away.  You also know that only the Diarchs are perfect, incapable of sin or error.  So it stands to reason that the Saints were imperfect.”

“Yes,” Emberglow admitted.  It may have been logically accurate, but it was sinful in the extreme to even think about.   The two of them moved into the parlor, where the couches and cushions had been moved aside, leaving a blank, carpeted floor.  Lady Whispery reached out with her rune gauntlet, tracing a complicated pattern of runes in the air.  The runes glowed in the air, and a corresponding glow lit up in the floor, shaped like a circle roughly two ponies across.  Lady Whispery stepped back, motioning Emberglow back so that neither of them were in the circle.  It shined, filling the room with a warm orange glow.  Finally a section of carpet on the floor disappeared to reveal a spiral staircase crafted of stone.  Glowing runes, the same orange as the one on the floor, illuminated the path downwards.

“Come,” Lady Whispery said softly.  “Come and learn of Lady Rarity’s sins.”  Emberglow’s mouth went dry.  “We remember, not to tear down what she was, but to learn and grow closer to her perfection.”  They began down the staircase, Emberglow followed close behind.

“The Book of the Saints is not the only document that survived from the Dark Times,” Lady Whispery began.  “Though the remaining texts do agree that Lady Rarity was kind and beautiful, pure and generous, they also speak of a mare with faults.  With difficulties.  Lady Rarity could be vain.  She could be cruel, and she could be greedy.  You will not find these facts or these stories in the Book of the Saints, but they are truth.  None of these, however, are her greatest fault.”

At the bottom of the stairs was a small chamber, with featureless stone walls and floors.  There was no furniture except for a narrow plinth, only three hooves square, rising up to eye level for most ponies.  Something spherical rested on the plinth, covered in a white cloth.  Surrounding the plinth were the other Knights Radiant staying at the Shrine of the Generous.  They remained silent as Lady Whispery continued to speak, though their faces were full of joy and pride as they looked at Emberglow.

“Lady Rarity’s greatest strength, her generous spirit, was also her greatest weakness.  Her willingness to see the best in others sometimes blinded her to their faults.  She loved without condition and without judgement.  When she should have remained vigilant against corruption, she instead made allowances, compromise, and acceptance.  This is our challenge.  To show compassion without compromise.  To love the sinner, but not the sin.  The Radiant draws those who share our Saint’s weaknesses, so her struggles become ours.”  Lady Whispery moved to stand right next to the plinth.  She motioned to the object covered by the cloth.

“This is the last remaining piece of physical evidence of Lady Rarity’s greatest failure.  Like all of the Saints, she was aware of the danger unicorns posed.  But she failed to act when it mattered most.  You see, Lady Rarity’s little sister Sweetie Belle, who she loved dearly, was a unicorn.”

Emberglow’s breath caught in her throat as Lady Whispery slid the cloth off the plinth, revealing a crystal clear spherical orb.  Frozen inside was a single unicorn’s horn, cut cleanly at the base.  Emberglow gasped.  Besides her presence at her brother’s birth, she’d never seen a unicorn’s horn before, and certainly never one that was full grown.  It was small, perhaps only a few inches longer than her hoof was wide.  Spiraled grooves ran up the horn towards the tip.  The appendage itself was a soft purplish pink color.  Emberglow was holding her breath.

“This is Sweetie Belle’s horn,” Lady Whispery intoned.  “It retains some magic still.  It is the most important relic of our order, both a holy connection to Saint Rarity herself and a profane reminder of her sin.  We use it very rarely, for it is dangerous.”

“What does it do?” Emberglow whispered, wincing as her own voice echoed in the strange room.

“It is an oracle.  We bring new Knights here, to swear their oaths to Lady Rarity and to catch a glimpse of their future.  You will experience two visions.  One is the same vision we all share.  The Day of Hope.  The second will be personal, private to you.  You are not to share it with anypony.”

“What do I do?” Emberglow asked.

“We here will swear you to our Order, then you will touch the orb.  After you have had your vision, we will provide you with the infusion that changes you from an average mortal into a Knight.  Your visions will give you strength to withstand your ordeal.  Are you ready?

“Okay.” Emberglow gulped, her heart pounding.  “I’m ready.”

“Good.  Repeat after me.  ‘I give my life to the service of Saint Rarity.  I walk in her hoofsteps’,” Lady Whispery paused after each phrase, giving Emberglow a chance to speak the words out loud.  With each phrase Emberglow spoke, the horn within the orb began to glow with a faint cyan color.  Each phrase made the glow brighter, until the entire orb shone.

“I will go where I am needed, and bring healing and light.  I will give of my gifts freely, and take no payment, living in holy poverty.  I will keep myself untouched, and take no mate nor raise up children.  All that I am, all that I have, belongs to the Diarchy and my fellow ponies.  My oath is for life.”

As Emberglow finished the oath, the horn within the orb was glowing bright enough to drown out the orange light of the runes on the walls.  Emberglow couldn’t take her eyes off the magical glow.

“You are ready.  Reach out and see your future.”

Emberglow reached out, mesmerized by the glow.  Her hoof brushed up against the crystal of the orb.  It was cool to the touch; somehow she’d expected warmth.  The blue glow of the horn overtook her entire vision, seeping in at the periphery until all she could see was blue.  She couldn’t feel her hooves or her wings any longer; it was as if she were floating in a sea of blue fluff.

“Another pony comes begging for wisdom,” a whispering voice slithered into her mind, slipping between her thoughts and insinuating itself into her brain.  “Another neophyte unprepared for the truth.”

“I… what?” Emberglow said.  Her voice was muffled, and her thoughts were cloudy.

“Are you the one, little pony?” the voice demanded.  The blue light cleared, showing a night sky full of stars.  Six bright lights, spread equidistant from each other, grew in brightness in the sky, surrounding the moon.  Each one was a different color; pink, red, blue, orange, purple, and magenta.  They looked like crystals, and they glowed with magical brilliance.  Suddenly the pink crystal disappeared from the others, firing like a shooting star towards Emberglow, while the magenta gem began to shine ever brighter.  There was something baleful about the light.  “Six there were, now five remains.  One rules from the shadows, the others follow blindly.  Hope is lost, but the lost can be found.  The Sleeper will awaken at the hooves of her children.  The Generous will find the lost and restore Hope to Equestria.”  The blue light flowed in once again, blocking out the vision.

“But what of you?  Oh, what a fascinating aura,” the voice said, and Emberglow wanted to squirm.  There was something deeply uncomfortable about the way she felt scrutinized.  Once again the blue light cleared away, and Emberglow could see a second vision.  Suddenly she could feel air under her wings.  She was flying.  She looked around, trying to figure out where she was.  There were only clouds.  She swooped down, trying to land on the clouds below her.  At least then she’d be able to poke her head through the white fluff and see what land lay below.  As soon as she descended, however, the clouds parted.  Below was a tall mountain, beset on all sides by a vicious storm.  One of the gems from her vision before, glowing with orange light, sat atop the mountain.  “Can you do it?  Can you brave the storm?  You are the one, if you choose it.  You may even find a richness you never thought possible.  Stay true, Emberglow.  Stay true…”

Suddenly she was falling, tumbling helplessly  through the air as she screamed in terror.  The orange light from the gem disappeared, and the mountain gaped open underneath her, swallowing her until everything was pitch black.  Cold seeped into her bones; a nightmarish, agonizing, biting chill that sucked away her strength and made her limbs stiff.  As she fell, she saw a light.  It was a baleful, cold blue, and it grew as Emberglow fell towards it.  

The coldly glowing figure was shaped like a pony, but not; its muzzle was longer, and it was taller.  It’s hooves were bound in chains that faded off into the darkness underneath it, where Emberglow could hear the metallic clanging of some infernal machine.  

Suddenly Emberglow’s free-fall came to a halt, and the figure lunged at her, it’s maw full of frozen, icicle-like fangs.  They snapped closed right in front of her, and she flinched back in terror.

“Set us loose,” the creature demanded.  It spoke with the voice of a thousand whispers, a harsh, dead wind that blew Emberglow back even as it oozed into her ears like ice water.  “Set us loose so we can rend you and freeze you and consume you.  We will eat you frozen flesh and trample your cities to dust.  Set us loose so it can begin.”

“This one is not yours to harm, monster,” a reply thundered through the darkness.  Emberglow recognized the voice of the mare in the moon, from her dreams.  Was the vision a dream?  “She’s made for bigger things…” the voice faded, the creature faded from view, and the blue light filled her eyes again.

Emberglow blinked.  The vision was gone.  The glow was gone.  She lay, crumpled at the bottom of the plinth, while the various Knights Radiant gathered about, watching her carefully.

“Was it… what did I see?” she rasped.  Her throat was sore.

“Everypony sees the vision of the gems.  ‘The Generous will restore Hope to Equestria’,” Lady Whispery quoted.  “The other vision is private.  It is not to be shared.”  Emberglow nodded, shakily. It wasn’t as if she understood what it meant anyways. “Can you stand?”  Emberglow nodded again, rising to her hooves.  Two of the other Knights lifted the white cloth back over the orb.  A third approached, clutching a small vial in one hoof.  “Are you ready for the next step?”  Emberglow eyed the vial.  The liquid inside was pitch black, with glinting sparkles inside.  It looked as if somepony had sprinkled tar with glitter.

“I-I am ready,” Emberglow said shakily, wondering if it were true.  She was still thinking of what the voice in her vision had said.  What did it mean?  What storm was she being warned of?  She was the one?  She had no time to think more, because the Knight had removed the seal from the top of the glass vial and passed it to Emberglow.  Emberglow took it, looking inside.  She took a sniff; it smelled musty, like stale bread.

“This holy infusion will fill you with more magic than you have ever experienced,” Lady Whispery said.  “It will propel you to physical heights you could not attain on your own.  It is permanent.  You will be as strong as an unenhanced earth pony, and you will be faster and more enduring than any normal pegasus.  The process will be very painful.  Some ponies report hearing voices, or seeing images.  Pay them no mind; nopony has ever been able to discern a significance to them.  Keep your mind on your faith, on Lady Rarity, and on your goals, and you will endure this trial and be all the stronger for it.  When you are ready, drink.”

Emberglow didn’t hesitate for a second.  Her heart pounded with fear, but in this small, frightening looking vial was everything she’d wanted since she was a foal.  This was it.  Knighthood.  The way she was meant to serve the Diarchy, and Lady Rarity.  Maybe this was the storm her vision had warned her of.  She upended the bottle and poured the surprisingly fluid potion into her lips.  The black substance rolled over her tongue.  It tasted vile, of dust and grit and chalk.  She had to force herself to swallow, feeling the gritty texture off the potion slipping down her throat.

“Fearless, ain’t ya?” she heard one of the other Knights say, as if from a great distance.  Suddenly she realized there was a roaring in her ears, a stuffiness in her hearing and in her head.  “It’s okay.  Sit down a bit.  Lay down if you need to.”

“How long?” Emberglow breathed out, her voice coming in a pained rasp.  Her head was beginning to pound, a sharp pain radiating from the center of her forehead.  She heard screaming, pained, short gasps of pain and fear.  They might have been coming from her.  She felt wet all over, as if she'd been dunked in liquid from head to hoof.  Suddenly even the gentle orange light was too bright, and she clenched her eyes shut.

“It always seems longer for the pony who’s going through it,” Lady Whispery answered.  Emberglow wanted to protest; Lady Whispery hadn’t really answered the question.  But the pain had spread now, beginning in her head but pushing its way through her entire body, making speech impossible.  Her muscles ached, her bones ached, even her feathers were twitching with sharp tinges of agony.  She tried to open her eyes for a brief second, only to be overwhelmed by the brightness.  Soon even sound became too much as her senses were overloaded.  Desperately she pawed at her ears with her front hooves, trying to shove them shut.  The clatter of the glass vial on the stone floor from her hooves sounded like a gong crashing in her ears.  She was fairly sure she was whimpering and crying.

Then the voices began, first simple muttering, whispers she couldn’t understand.  They grew in volume, a hundred thousand voices overlapping in her head, each one a cacophony of emotion.  Anger, terror, pain, but also laughter and ecstasy and embarrassment, every emotion possible running through her ears, and through her head.  The pain spiked, and it felt like somepony was driving a spike into her head, just above her eyes.

For a brief moment, there was nothing but pain and sensation.  The light reached through her eyelids, the sounds reached through her blocking hooves, and the pain permeated every pore, every capillary, every joint, and even the marrow of her bones.

And then there was nothing.  Silence.  Blackness.  Once again Emberglow was herself; just a poor, tired, aching mare, gasping and whimpering and frothing with sweat on the stone floor of the room.  Slowly she lowered her hooves.  Somepony was speaking.  A gentle voice.

“Mom?” she whimpered, before her brain caught up with where she was and what she was doing.  “Lady… Whispery?”

“Emberglow?  How do you feel?”

“Uh...” she moaned, letting her eyes slip open just a hair.  She could see the Knights all gathered around her now.  One of them, probably Lady Whispery, was patiently and gently rubbing the sweat out of her eyes, and off her limbs.  The pain was sluicing from her limbs, disappearing just as suddenly as it had come.  In an instant, she realized that she felt the difference.  She felt the strength in her limbs, and in her wings.  Shakily, she stumbled to her feet.

“Yes, that’s how I felt.  Kneel, Emberglow,” Lady Whispery ordered.  Emberglow complied, rising just enough that she was kneeling on one foreleg.  Lady Whispery was carrying a spear, and with the flat part of the blade, reached out and gently touched the center of Emberglow’s forehead.  Through her weariness, her heart overflowed with pride and joy.  “It is with honor that I proclaim you Lady Emberglow.  It is with pleasure that I call you sister.  You are one of us now, bound to our sisterhood forever.”
> Chapter 11
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 11


Excerpt from the Book of the Saints, Chapter Eleven, Verses 1 through 13

1- On the day that Saint Rarity the Generous was informed of the horrible plight of the ponies of Manehatten, she decided upon action.

2- She would travel to the city and bless its inhabitants, covering the shame of their nudity with clothing of her own make.

3-For days she labored, crafting a hundred dresses.  The other Saints wept at her generosity, and decided to help.  Together they crafted a hundred more.

4- But evil was at work in Manehatten.  The unicorn Suri Polomare, jealous of Saint Rarity’s holiness and desiring her downfall, conspired with her servant the unicorn Coco Pommel to sabotage the Saint’s gift.

5- Saint Rarity traveled to Manehatten, and with a gift of funds from Saint Pinkamena, contracted a mare, named Prim Hemline, to distribute her gift to all of Manehatten.

6- But Suri used her poisoned words and dark magic to deceive Prim, turning her against the Saint.  When Saint Rarity went to plead with Prim to resume their work, the servant Coco crept into the room where the dresses were kept, and burned them with her vile magics.

7- Saint Rarity returned in failure, head hung low.  When she saw the ashes of her gift, her tears flowed freely, dripping from her face to the ashy floor.  Wherever a tear landed, a fibrous plant sprung up.

8- On each stem grew a dress or suit, more fantastic than the hoof made ones from before.

9- Your generosity and your tears have made a miracle, the other Saints cried, shedding their tears alongside Saint Rarity’s example.

10- When the evil Coco saw the miracle, she wept, her stony heart cracked by the soft heart of Saint Rarity.  She lamented her guilt, and bowed down before Saint Rarity, begging the holy mare to take pity on her, and end her life as she deserved.

11- But Saint Rarity took mercy on the mare; rather than take her life, Saint Rarity only took her horn.

12- Now you may live your life free of the evil of your magic, Saint Rarity said.  Go, and sin against ponies no longer.  So Coco, safely hornless, followed after Saint Rarity, blessing her with word and song.

13- But Suri Polomare was never heard from again.

1112 AF, New Canterlot City

Emberglow couldn’t help but strut a little in her white robes.  It was her first posting, and though she had received her very own set of armor, it didn’t quite make sense to wear it in public if she was just on her way to the airship docks.  She could still wear her official Knight uniform, however, and she did so proudly.  The linen, dyed a brilliant white, practically sparkled in the morning sun, and the embroidered cutie mark of Saint Rarity herself (not Saint, but Lady, she reminded herself) stood out on the robes’ flank like three blue badges of the highest honor.   On her back was a brand new pair of saddlebags, also marked with her Lady’s cutie mark, and packed full of her personal effects: some smallclothes, her journal and pens, and her personal copy of the Book of the Saints.  Emberglow felt amazing, though she tried to reign in her pride a little.  Pride led to arrogance, which always hid sin, as the Saints themselves had said.

The airship dock was on the south side of town. It was called a dock, but in actual fact it was more accurately a collection of warehouses and office buildings built into large tree-like structures reaching high into the sky, ready to receive the dozens of airships that came in every day from all over the Diarchy, carrying goods and ponies from far away.  It was always busy; hundreds of ponies moved about quickly, some hauling freight, some on their way to jobs, and others, like Emberglow, there to catch a flight to elsewhere.  It was bustling, but Emberglow noticed that her official robes provided a small calm around her.  Nopony ignored her; they gave her space, and most afforded her at least a polite nod or deferential greeting.  She knew she wouldn’t have time for pleasantries, but she tried to have a friendly smile on her face for each pony that looked her way.  

There was one pair of ponies among the crowd she was keeping a particular eye out for, however, and the constant crowd of ponies was making it difficult to search.  She nearly took to the air to look for them, but heard a familiar voice shouting before she could spread her wings.

“Lady Emberglow!  Lady Emberglow!  Over here!” came her mother’s voice.  Emberglow looked over to where her parents stood, right in front of Airship Dock C.  Her mother was enthusiastically waving a sign, which was clearly hoof-painted and made of cardboard, that read ‘Good Luck Lady Emberglow, SAINTS BLESS’ on it.  Her father was standing next to her and had the sense to look mildly embarrassed at his wife’s antics.  Emberglow waved at them, thought for a moment, and lifted off, floating above the crowd and over to where her parents were waiting.  The crowd below parted for her landing, with a few odd 'pardon me, my Lady’s’.

“Lady Emberglow!” Needle Point gushed, dropping the sign to the ground and hugging her daughter tightly.

“Mom… I’m your daughter.  I’m pretty sure you don’t have to call me ‘lady’.”

“Nonsense.  We’re in public.  It’s only proper.  Besides, if you were half as proud of the title you earned as I am, you’d say it too,” her mother responded.  Emberglow laughed.  

“I’d just miss it if you never called me ‘sweetie’ again.” She pouted at her mother.  Needle Point giggled.

“Well, if you insist then, Lady Sweetie,” Needle Point said, and all three of the ponies laughed.  “What?  The proper forms must be seen to, at least in public.”

“It’s only been a month since your Knighting,” Textile commented, before his wife could further embarrass their daughter.  “They sure didn’t give you much time between then and your first assignment.” 

Emberglow shook her head.  “No, they didn’t.  The need is pretty dire, though.”

“Your letter said as much.  You’re going off to hunt pirates?”  He seemed to be holding back an amused grin at the idea.

“It does sound like something out of a foal’s adventure tale, doesn’t it?” Emberglow smiled.  “But yeah.  The regular navy has been having problems tracking down a zebra captain terrorizing merchants in the seas southeast of Klugetown, so they’re calling in a specialized group.  I’m going to be with some elite regular army ponies, as well as three other Knights.  Steadfast told me it would be a pretty easy assignment for me to get some combat experience.”  She nearly forgot that she no longer had to refer to him as ‘Sir’.

“And who are these other Knights you’ll be working with?” Textile asked.

“I’ve only met one of them, Lady Turquoise.  The other two are Knights Adamant.”

“Oh, the Knight Jubilant you squired for.” Needle point nodded.  “Such a nice mare.  I must admit, it makes me feel less nervous that you’ll know at least one pony in… whatever is the name of the border town you’re going to be in?” 

“Port Luminescence.  It’s a grandiose name, if you ask me,” Emberglow said.  “Turquoise has been there nearly a month now, so I’ll be meeting her in the Port.  I was told I might meet one of the Knights Adamant on the airship, but I don’t see anypony in robes or armor, so maybe he or she is taking a later flight.”

“Speaking of armor, where is yours, Lady Sweetie?” her mother asked with a grin.

“Packed in a crate on board.  These robes are so much easier to move in, and I didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself,” Emberglow said.  Her parents smiled indulgently.

“Not draw too much attention? Didn’t you see the crowd parting around you?  You already draw lots of attention, my gorgeous, proud, amazing daughter,” Needle Point gushed, her eyes getting misty.  “And I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, so you could go off on your first mission without worrying about your silly mother and now I’m failing you and I’m terrible and…”  Emberglow was laughing as she wrapped her sobbing mother in a tight hug, smooshing Needle Point’s face against her shoulder as the older mare wept tears of pride and worry.

“Mom, I love you so much.” She laughed as she felt tears in her own eyes, as well.  Textile was grinning too, but Emberglow heard him try to sniff sneakily.  “I’ll be fine.  You cry all you want.  I’ll write as often as I can.”

“You’d better, Lady Sweetie,” Needle Point sniffled into the linen of her daughter’s robes.  Emberglow released her mother to hug her father goodbye as well.  “And be safe.  And remember to brush your teeth, and if…”

“Mom.  I’ll be fine.  I have to go get on the airship now, okay?”  Her mother ignored her, and as soon as Emberglow let go of Textile, Needle Point grabbed her in another hug, nuzzling her face into Emberglow’s shoulder again.  “Um, mom?  The airship is leaving soon.  Mom?”

Emberglow somehow managed to extract herself from the teary mare.  Needle Point reached down and picked up her abandoned sign, waving it frantically as Emberglow entered the building that housed Airship Dock C.

The airship dock was a large pillar, with several wooden platforms extending off open doorways on the sides for floating ships to tie to.  Cargo ships used the lower entrances, which were all connected to two large freight elevators.  There was a spiral staircase in the center of the building, going through all the floors, and a passenger elevator for those heading towards the higher airship docks.  Emberglow moved towards the elevator, stepping aside politely as an older pegasus couple was about to board.

“Oh no, after you, Lady Knight,” the stallion said with a bow.

“No, there’s plenty of room for three.  Come on, you two,” Emberglow said, ushering the couple onto the elevator with her.  “Besides, I’m basically a Knight in name only.  I only swore my oaths a month ago.  On my way to my first assignment.”

“Your first assignment, eh?” the stallion said, while his companion merely smiled shyly.  He pushed the button labeled ‘5’, and the elevator began to rise.   “Which floor?” he asked politely.

“Floor seven, please.” He pushed the button for her floor, and she nodded her thanks. “I’ve been stationed in Port Luminescence.  I’m support for a team that’s going to be hunting zebra pirates,” Emberglow said proudly.  The old stallion nodded.

“I wasn’t navy, but air recon for the army,” the old stallion said.  “We loved it whenever there were Knights Radiant nearby.  It meant more ponies came back alive.  Saints bless you for what you’re doing.”  The elevator dinged, and the doors opened on floor five.  The two older pegasi shuffled out, the mare calling out shakily, “Saint Rarity keep you safe!” as the doors closed.

Emberglow smiled and waved.  The elevator resumed its upward motion, and dinged one more time on floor seven.  Several ponies were ready to move into the elevator as soon as it opened, but surprised and deferential expressions quickly filled their faces as they waited for Emberglow to disembark first.  It all felt a little surreal.

Floor seven had three exits, leading to fenced wooden boardwalks that extended outside of the building.  Only one held an airship — Dock 7-β, according to sign above the exit.  A flight attendant waited at the entrance to the boardwalk.  Emberglow walked over, and the flight attendant, an earth pony dressed in airship crew uniform, perked up with a customer service smile as Emberglow approached.

“Lady Emberglow, welcome!  You may board The Lost Lamb as soon as you like.  I have been assured that your armor is in a crate safely onboard.  Your…” the stallion’s voice hesitated for just a moment, almost imperceptibly.  “…travelling companion is already onboard in your shared cabin.  Have you traveled by airship before, my Lady?”

“I haven’t, no.” Emberglow shook her head.

“Please be aware that some passengers, even Knights and pegasi, might experience motion sickness while travelling on board an airship.  Should you feel ill, please inform an attendant.  There are treatments for airsickness…”

“I know all about them, thank you,” Emberglow said.  “Can you tell me where to find my cabin?”

“Of course, my lady.  You are in cabin 1-C.  Please go down the gangplank, onto the ship, and take the first set of stairs off the deck down into the passenger area.  1-C will be the second door on your right.  Would you like me to summon an attendant to show you the way?”

“No thanks.  I should be fine,” Emberglow said.

“Then I wish you a pleasant flight, Lady Emberglow.” He bowed to her as he finished speaking.

She was already walking down the boardwalk as soon as the attendant finished his farewell.  She saw a few other earth ponies in the process of boarding the airship, and she wondered briefly what it might be like to be afraid of heights.  Still, even though they were clearly nervous of the long drop on either side of the fenced boardwalk, the various earth ponies tried to move out of her way to allow her to go first.  Emberglow grinned; they needn’t have worried.  As soon as she was clear of the building and on the open boardwalk, she spread her wings and flew onto the deck of the airship itself, bypassing all the waiting ponies.

The door to her cabin  was marked with a metal plate with ‘1-C’ engraved onto it.  She briefly thought about knocking, but it was her cabin too, wasn’t it?  Shaking her head, she reached out and turned the handle, pulling the door open.

The first thing she heard was the snoring.  Loud, ripping chainsaw-like noises came from a cream-colored mare sprawled on the bench on the north side of the cabin.  She was dressed in blue robes, complete with the embroidered symbol of Saint Rainbow Dash, though her splayed position revealed that the robes weren’t the only thing she was wearing.  Emberglow could see enough of her hooves to note that the mare was wearing fishnet stockings; the kind that were just barely not too provocative, but clearly intended to be sexy.  There was nothing sexy about the drool dripping from her clumsily open maw, however, creating a tiny wet spot on the shoulder of her robe.  Her forehooves were clutched around a throw pillow that matched the bench’s upholstery, but her hind hooves were spread wide, uncaringly, and only luck seemed to be to blame for the mare having any sort of decency left.  Her mane was black, with a pink streak, and the Knight was wearing makeup, of all things, a black lipstick and dark, magenta eyeshadow.

There was a second bench across from the first, and a tiny bathroom in the back, so Emberglow could have entered silently and ignored the mare.  There was something about the insultingly casual way the mare was positioned in her sleep, however, that bothered Emberglow.  She entered the cabin, and ‘accidentally’ slammed the door shut behind her.

“THE BEAR IS IN THE CARBURETOR!” the mare shrieked violently, jolting to her hooves and out of whatever dream she’d been experiencing.  Her blue eyes blinked rapidly a few times, before a blush tinted her creamy, freckle covered cheeks.  “Um, sorry about that.  I was dreaming.  Hi.”

“Hello,” Emberglow said cautiously.  “My name is Emberglow.”

“Bubblegum,” the other mare said simply, stepping down from the bench she’d been standing on and holding out a hoof for Emberglow to shake.  The mares shook hooves, and Emberglow sat down on the bench opposite where Bubblegum had been sleeping.  Bubblegum sat as well, taking a slightly more dignified pose than she had been in before.  “So we get a Radiant this time?  Awesome.  That’ll really let me cut loose.  Bubblegum?”

It took Emberglow a few moments to realize that the mare hadn’t just turned her name into a question; the other Knight had reached into the pocket of her robes and produced a hoof full of wrapped candies.  Emberglow shook her head, and Bubblegum shrugged, unwrapping two of the pieces with her teeth and throwing them casually into her mouth.

“More for me, then,” Bubblegum said, chomping loudly on the gum.  Emberglow decided she wasn’t quite impressed with the mare.  “So Delver Deep said we’d be getting some new blood.  You look young.”  Emberglow narrowed her eyes; she couldn’t be more than two years younger than the mare sitting across from her.

“Delver Deep?”  Emberglow asked, ignoring the comment about her age.

“Yeah, he and I were assigned to Port Luminescence together a few years back.  It’s been pretty boring up until now, but Knight Command’s deciding to get serious about this ‘Black and White Beard’ fellow.  I hear another Knight’s already in the Port.”

“That would be Lady Turquoise of the Jubilant, whom I squired for.  There’s going to be some regular army, as well.  Elite marines, I’ve been told.”

“Good.  Hope we get at least one more heavy gun.  Nopony except Knights dares to wear armor on the seas, so some more artillery will cut right through those pirate bastards.”

“You’re surprisingly cavalier about pony lives,” Emberglow remarked neutrally.  Bubblegum shrugged.

“Maybe so.  But you haven’t heard the stories about this guy.  He’s a brute; he and his crew have sunk five ships.  That’s about a hundred pony lives, all on his stripey shoulders.  Well, he and his crew’s,” Bubblegum said.  “But whatever.  Tell me about you.  How long you been a Knight, newbie?”

“I took my vows twenty-nine days ago,” Emberglow admitted reluctantly.  Bubblegum crowed with laughter, much to her annoyance.

“You really are fresh.  That’s great.  Port Luminescence will be a fun place to break you in.  Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to show you all the sights.  The opium dens, the whorehouses, the gambling spots, the beer garden…” the mare snickered.  Emberglow was a bit worried that she might not be joking.  “It’s a right den of sin, our lovely Port.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Emberglow deadpanned, but the other mare just grinned.  “Fine, tease me.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, newbie.  I was just teasing.  I can be a bit much, sometimes.  My husband says so, for sure.  He’s always lecturing me about it.” Bubblegum’s voice was fond.  

“Husband?” Emberglow asked, mostly to be polite.

“Yeah.  When I first took my vows, I asked for a semi-permanent posting, so I wouldn’t have to move very often.  That way, I can have my hubby close by.  His name’s Wind Storm.  He works as a weather pony, so he can get a job wherever I’m stationed.  He’s a pegasus, like you.”  The mare lowered her voice and held a hoof to her lips, whispering conspiratorially.  “I have a real thing for feathers.”  Emberglow blushed crimson, and Bubblegum giggled.  “Sorry about that, newbie.  You’re gonna be fun, I can tell.”

“It’s fine,” Emberglow said flatly.  “It must be nice, being so close to your husband.”

“You have no idea,” Bubblegum said.  “Oh wait… you really do have no idea, do you.  I’m sorry, I forgot you Radiant are afraid of sex or whatever.”

Emberglow stared at the expression on the other pony’s face.  It was as if Bubblegum really had no idea how annoying she was.  Still, Emberglow had started out this trip in such high spirits; she could sense that every second she spent speaking with this mare was going to dampen them, one annoying drip at a time.

“I’m sorry, and I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s been a long day, and I was hoping to catch up on some sleep before we reached our destination.  The flight’s going to be six hours, after all.”

“Oh.  Oh, right, look, n… um… Emberglow, I’m sorry.  My hubs says I have no filter, and I say stupid stuff,” Bubblegum said, her ears splayed back as she rubbed the back of her head with one hoof.  “I promise, I don’t mean to be a jerk.  I’ll leave you alone and let you read or sleep or whatever.”

Emberglow sighed.  Bubblegum seemed like she meant what she said; maybe it was best to just accept her apology with grace.

“Fine, Bubblegum.  I accept your apology,” Emberglow said.  “We’re going to be fighting alongside each other, so I suppose I can try to be patient.”  She tried a small smile, which Bubblegum returned with enthusiasm.

“Great.  I’ll do my best to rein in my Bubblegummyness,” she giggled.  Emberglow had to repress a shudder at the massacre of innocent Ponish words.  “Are you…”

The question was interrupted as the entire ship rumbled, quivering slightly.  Emberglow started, rising up a bit in her seat as the entire cabin shook.

“Don’t worry, that’s just normal takeoff stuff,” Bubblegum said.  “Your first time flying in an airship?  You must have been a sponsorship in Knight training, then, huh?”

“Yes…” Emberglow said, trying not to sound nervous.  “How did you make that leap?”

“Most noble ponies have flown on airships loads of times, Emberglow.  Sponsorships like you and me usually didn’t grow up with enough money for luxuries like this.”  Emberglow looked at the mare.  “Yup.  I’m one too.  Also, did anypony warn you about airsickness?”

“I’m a fully trained medical professional, I know all about airsickness,” Emberglow said primly.  Bubblegum looked at her with a patronizingly sympathetic look.

“Sure, but you’re gonna wanna take your air sickness pills before the symptoms show up,” Bubblegum suggested.  “They work better as prevention, not treatment.”  There was a sudden lurch as the airship separated from the dock.  The floor seemed to jump a few inches, and Emberglow’s stomach felt like it went the other direction.

“You… might be right.” Emberglow admitted.  

“Yeah, I heard it can hit pegasi pretty hard.  When you’re moving, but your body can’t see that you’re moving, it’s pretty nasty.” Bubblegum eyed her sympathetically.  “I took my pills before I came on board.  It always gets me.  I’ll go get you some.”  Emberglow didn’t even have time to protest before the mare was out of the cabin, the door swinging open behind her.

“Didn’t even close the door,” Emberglow muttered, rising up to pull the door closed.

By the time Bubblegum had returned with a pair of tiny pills and a canteen of water, Emberglow was starting to feel the motion.

“Is it possible to get out and fly alongside the ship?” she moaned miserably to Bubblegum as the cream-furred mare entered their cabin.  “I swear I can keep up.”

“Not so fast, newbie.  First off, we’re moving a lot faster than you think.  Unless you’re as fast as Lady Dash, I seriously doubt you’ve got the wingpower to keep up with an airship.  And even if you were, you wouldn’t be able to sustain it.”  Emberglow was  a little surprised that Bubblegum knew so much about flight, for an earth pony.  “Now, take your pills.”

Emberglow swallowed the two little pills with a sip of water from the canteen.  The cold liquid made her stomach do interesting things, and not interesting in a good way.

“I think I need to go up on deck,” Emberglow admitted.  Bubblegum gave her a sympathetic look.

“Because you need to hurl?” she asked tactlessly.  Emberglow stood up shakily.

“Because motion sickness is defined as the difference in your brain between perceived motion and actual motion, so if I’m up on deck, maybe my brain will realize my body is moving,” Emberglow lectured.  The ship made a slight lurch.  “And yes, also because I need to hurl.”  Strangely, the use of such an unscientific term might have made her even more nauseous.  Bubblegum backed out of the way as Emberglow rushed out of the room, onto the deck of the airship.

The feel of air moving against the fur of her face was like a magic balm.  While Emberglow’s nausea didn’t go away, it receded into the background, going from raging beast to mild discomfort.  Emberglow spread her wings to feel the wind moving underneath her feathers.

The airship had a pretty standard construction; a large, ovular balloon was tied to a wooden hull by thick cables.  The canvas balloon was painted midnight blue and yellow, the colors of the Diarchy.  A few other ponies were milling about on deck, attendants, crew members or just other passengers.  All nodded deferentially to the two Knights standing on deck.

“Feeling better?” Bubblegum asked.  Emberglow nodded.  “Then c’mere.  If this is your first time on an airship, you don’t wanna miss this.”

Bubblegum nudged Emberglow towards the edge of the airship with one shoulder.  While several of the earth ponies nearby seemed to shy away from the wooden railing that stood on the edge of the ship, Emberglow had no such nervousness; what would happen if she fell off, after all?  Following Bubblegum’s pointing, she looked over the railing and gasped.  

New Canterlot City spread out beneath her like a child’s play city. Miniscule ponies went about their business, wandering between tiny buildings; Emberglow could barely make out individuals.  They looked like tiny bugs, and she leaned over further to get a better look.  Emberglow had gone up as high as the raincloud line before, but this airship was flying so much higher than that.

The five offices of the Knight orders were visible, as was the Central Cathedral, with the entire city rolling out from that main point.  She could see the emerald wooded area of the Everfree, with its walking paths and public gardens.

“I can see the Ivy Seminary! And the Merchant’s Walk!  My parents’ shop should be somewhere…” she pointed vaguely at the street where it would be, realizing that she’d never been this high above the clouds.  Her motion sickness was completely forgotten.

“Don’t you fly often?” Bubblegum asked.  “Ya know, cuz you’re a pegasus?”

“Not a lot, no,” Emberglow admitted.  “My parents are earth ponies.  I just never needed to, I guess.”

“Well, if you’ve never been up this high, it sure is a sight,” Bubblegum said, leaning over next to the other Knight.  “Never gets old, for me.”

“You’re not afraid of heights?” Emberglow asked.

“Nope.  I was a little afraid of them before I married Wind Storm, but he takes me flying every once and a while.  Now, half the time one of our hot dates ends with a cloud walking spell.” Bubblegum waggled her eyebrows lewdly.  Emberglow rolled her eyes, and Bubblegum giggled.  “Sorry.  Feeling better?”

“A bit,” Emberglow said.  She really was.  She’d probably end up spending the rest of the flight on deck, if she could.

“Well, be careful.  When those pills kick in you’ll get drowsy.  Wanna find something to eat?” Bubblegum asked.  Emberglow considered for a brief second.

I’m not feeling that much better,” she admitted.  “Go, I’ll be here, or wander back to our cabin if I get sleepy.  You don’t need to foalsit me.”

“Okay, your loss.  I’m gonna find me some hayfries.  Let an attendant know if you’re feeling worse, kay?”

“I will.  Go,” Emberglow said, waving a hoof.  She wanted to enjoy this moment in peace, and Bubblegum was a bit aggravating, if well-meaning.

Emberglow sat at the railing as New Canterlot City slowly passed beneath her, watching the buildings getting shorter and less extravagant as their airship finally passed beyond the city’s furthest suburbs.  As the last buildings faded out of view, she began to feel a drag on her eyelids.  Now it made more sense that her travelling companion had been fast asleep when Emberglow had first found their cabin.  She cautiously made her way down the stairs to their room, pleasantly surprised that her stomach had settled.  She laid down on the bench, curling up in a much more ladylike position than Bubblegum had before, and closed her eyes for half a second.

The door to their cabin banged open loudly, and suddenly the room was much too full of exuberant pony.

“Emberglow!  You awake?” Bubblegum called out.  “Oh.  You probably are now, huh?”

“Yes, I am,” Emberglow sighed.  “What do you need?”

“We’re sharing the airship with two of the marines who are serving under us.  They’ve been out to Port Luminescence before, and they’re great ponies.  Wanna come meet them?” Bubblegum asked.  

“You’ll forgive me if I drop unconscious in the middle of our conversation?” Emberglow asked tiredly.  Bubblegum giggled.

“Pills kicked in, eh?  Good, I’m glad you’re feeling better.  C’mon, I wanna introduce you to Gearsmith and Gadget.  I ran into them in the dining room.  Leave your saddlebags here, they’ll be perfectly safe.  Who would steal from a Knight?”

That the airship was big enough to include a dining room was a surprise to Emberglow.  She got up from her spot on the bench, following after Bubblegum with resignation after sliding her saddlebags onto the bench.  The blue-clad mare was prancing with excitement.

“Who are these two?” Emberglow asked.

“Earth pony soldiers.  A father and his daughter, actually.  He’s an artillery expert, and she’s his assistant and engineer.  They’re good solid soldiers, and fun to be around, too.”  Bubblegum led the way to the stairs leading deeper into the bowels of the ship.  The wooden doors to the dining room were labeled with a metal sign, much like the door to their room, except this one read ‘mess’.  The two ponies entered into a dining area that could perhaps hold, at most, a third of the total ponies on board the airship.  The room was mostly empty; a wrinkled old mare sat by herself nursing a cup of steaming coffee, and another two ponies, dressed in Diarchy Marine blue and yellow uniforms, sat across from each other, having a lively conversation.  The stallion was facing the door, while the mare had her back to the two Knights.  The mare was blue, with sunshine yellow mane tied back in a braid.  The stallion was shorter than his daughter and stocky, with the same color light blue coat and a black mane.

“Hey guys, I brought the other Knight to meet you.  She’s on the same anti-puke pills as me, though, so she’s a bit out of it.  Emberglow, meet Gearsmith and his daughter Gadget,” Bubblegum said, pointing at each of the ponies with her hoof as she introduced them.  Gadget turned around in her seat to look at the newcomer, and Emberglow’s breath caught in her throat.

Sunshine bangs framed a freckled face that just sparkled with cheer; the mare was grinning, and her green eyes shone like gems.  Her hooves were resting casually on the table in front of her, which held an empty plate from whatever meal she’d just shared with her father.  As she turned to look at Emberglow, a single lock of yellow hair fell into her face, and she brushed it aside with a casual flick of a hoof.  Emberglow could see that the mare was athletic; her body was fit, and she wore her uniform well on her lithe form.  She wasn’t beautiful; cute would be more accurate.  Emberglow had always known she was attracted to mares, for as long as she could remember, but no mare she’d ever seen had affected her at first sight like this one.  There was something about those eyes, that smile that made Emberglow want to stare for hours.  Looking was fine, right?  If that was all she did?  Emberglow had to remind herself to breathe, hoping that nopony had noticed her sinful reaction.

Fortunately, it seemed nopony had.  The two soldiers stood respectfully as the Knights approached, but having seen Bubblegum’s attitude towards decorum, Emberglow got the impression that it might be for her benefit, and not Bubblegum’s.  

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Emberglow,” the stallion, Gearsmith said with a bow.  “You don’t know how much we’ve wished for a healer on our team.”

“Your services will be in high demand,” his daughter said with a nod.  Oh, by all the Saints, did her voice have to be cute too?  “So you’re brand new?”

“I think her armor’s still gonna be hot from the forge when we get it out of its crate,” Bubblegum giggled.

“Sorry, Lady Emberglow.  Bubblegum did already mention that you were pretty fresh out of training,” Gearsmith said.  “Please, have a seat.  Are you hungry?”

“Um, not really, no,” Emberglow said, a bit nervously.

“Yeah, dad.  Didn’t you hear what Lady Bubblegum said about the nausea medication?  The poor mare is probably suffering,”

“I’m not that bad off,” Emberglow protested.  “The pills kicked in about five minutes ago.”  She had a seat next to the blue mare, and Bubblegum moved around the table to sit next to Gearsmith.

“Good.  Flights are rough.  I remember my first flight years ago, to the Zebrican front.  Our squad medic had to put me on an IV due to fluid loss,” Gearsmith mused.  “Gadget here took to airships like they’re solid ground, the lucky thing.  Not a hint of motion sickness.”

“It doesn’t always affect all ponies equally,” Emberglow agreed.  Her eyes kept shifting to look at the mare next to her.

“You would know, you’re the doctor,” Bubblegum said, laughing at her own joke.  Emberglow noticed the other two didn’t laugh; Gadget rolled her eyes, and her father merely looked blankly at the Knight Adamant.  “What?  I thought it was funny.”  It was gratifying to know that other ponies were sometimes just as annoyed by Bubblegum as she was.

“Please don’t think all of us are like Lady Bubblegum, here,” Gadget said, her voice flat.

“Gadget!  Show the proper respect,” Gearsmith scolded.  “I’m sorry, Lady Emberglow.  Lady Bubblegum has encouraged us to… well… be less vigilant in keeping up proper decorum with her, and showing less than a pony of her station deserves.”

“It’s fine,” Emberglow said.  “You won’t offend me, I promise.”

“Yeah, some ponies just get so stuffy around Knights,” Bubblegum chimed in.  “I wonder why?”

“Hmm, maybe because you’re the super-pony heroes that keep all of Equestria safe from its enemies?” Gadget mused.  “Lady Bubblegum, I’ve seen you in a fight.  You’re very impressive,”

“Aw, thanks Gadget,” Bubblegum gushed.  “So, what brought the two of you back to New Canterlot City?”

“We had a few weeks of leave, so we went home to visit Mom. She’s a gardener for one of the noble families in the city,” Gadget said, nodding at Emberglow.  “How about you, Lady Bubblegum?

“Oh, I was in the city for a hrmfrmsh…” Bubblegum trailed off into undecipherable gibberish.

“What did you say?”

“Um… gurglmurf.”

“Sorry, didn’t catch that.  Did you say ‘disciplinary hearing’?” Gadget pressed.  Bubblegum looked away, her face red.

“Yes,” she muttered.

“Which number is this one?” Gearsmith asked, sighing.

“Hey!  Weren’t you the one who was just talking about proper decorum or whatever?” Bubblegum complained.

“I think that might have been more for Lady Emberglow’s benefit.  You’ve already told us you don’t care, so you can’t have it both ways,” Gadget mused.  “Which number is this one?” she asked, repeating her father’s question.

“Fourth…”

“And this time it was for…?”

“Somepony at Knight Command took issue with the doodles I was drawing on my official reports,” Bubblegum groused.  “They were ‘offensive’ and ‘needlessly silly’ and ‘not showing the proper respect to the hardworking ponies who blah blah blah…’”

“Were they silly, offensive, and disrespectful?” Gadget asked.

“Well, of course they were!  What else would I draw?  Paperwork is boring,” Bubblegum grumbled, but then suddenly perked up.  “But hey!  I don’t have to do them anymore!”

“Why not?” Gadget asked.

“’All official reports and written debriefings of official Knight actions will be written by the most junior member of the squad,’” Emberglow recited.  Bubblegum nodded.

“Yup.  That.  It’s in the rulebook,” the other Knight said, then looked at Emberglow in surprise.  “Wait, you memorized the rulebook?”

“Just the parts pertinent to me,” Emberglow said defensively.  What was wrong with knowing the official procedure?

“Yeah, lay off poor Lady Emberglow,” Gadget chimed in.  “Just because you’re lazy, doesn’t mean everypony is.”

Everypony laughed at that, even Emberglow, who felt a warm sort of tingle that the mare had come to her defense.

“So, maybe you ponies can tell me a little about Port Luminescence,” Emberglow said.  

“It’s a cesspool,” Bubblegum said, grinning.  “But a fun cesspool.”

“I think Lady Emberglow wants a more useful answer,” Gadget said.  “Have you lived your whole life in the capital?”

“No, my family lived in Rainbow Falls until I got my cutie mark,” Emberglow replied.  “But New Canterlot City is pretty much all I remember.”

“Okay.  Then the Port’s gonna be a very different experience for you.  Most of the buildings are wood, and just about nothing is over two or three stories high.  Also the roads aren’t paved, which is usually fine…”

“Unless the delta floods, and then it becomes a swamp,” Gearsmith supplied grumpily.

“Yeah, the Port’s built on a river delta, it does get flooded every so often.  Good thing you can just fly above the mud, huh?” Gadget said cheerfully.  “The Port is also livelier than New Canterlot City.  Um, how to put this nicely…”

“There’s a lot of sailors there, and sailors tend to like whores and booze,” Bubblegum said.

“Isn’t prostitution illegal?” Emberglow asked.  Bubblegum and Gearsmith laughed, though not unkindly.  Gadget gave her a sympathetic look.

“Of course it is, Lady Emberglow.  But sometimes the law doesn’t mean as much in the border towns.”

“What do you mean?” Emberglow said, shocked.

“Sometimes, staying alive is a big deal in the edges of the Diarchy.  You focus all your energy on just staying alive and staying ahead.  Certain things just aren’t a priority, and law enforcement can get lax on those subjects.  The local constabulary has much more problematic issues on their plates than public drunkenness or prostitution, so it gets ignored.”

“That sounds awful.” Emberglow stared at the mare, open mouthed.  

“It’s not so bad if you ignore it too.” Gadget shrugged.  “Wow, that sounded a lot less terrible in my head.  Look, think of it this way.  We’re here to do a job.  The pirates around the Port are making life miserable for the ponies that live there.  If we clean up the pirates, they’ll be happier, less stressful, and better able to live good lives.  We just try to leave other details to other ponies.”

“I don’t like it.” Emberglow’s eyebrows narrowed.

“You’re not going to change it overnight, either,” Gadget reasoned.  “Maybe just focus on being an example?  When the degenerate ponies of the Port see how happy you are, maybe they’ll all follow suit?”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Emberglow asked, searching the mare’s face.

“Well, no.  But sometimes it’s rather nice to talk to somepony that isn’t a jaded cynic,” Gadget said, glancing at her father.  “Or just a loudmouth weirdo.”  Bubblegum grinned cheerfully.  “And who knows?  If I’m wrong, that’s a win for everypony, right?”  Emberglow had to laugh at the cheerful outlook.  Whatever the Port held, she was at least grateful at the presence of two ponies she could get along with.  

The next few hours of flight were uneventful.  Gearsmith stayed below to have a conversation with Bubblegum about firearms, something Emberglow wasn’t really interested in.  Emberglow spent most of the time on deck, though she did take some time to convince Gadget to come over to the ledge with her.  While the earth pony was not prone to motion sickness, she was rather nervous to be so close to the edge, and the subsequent deadly drop to the earth below.  Once at the ledge, however, Gadget joined her in admiring the rolling waves of golden farmland below them.

“What are they growing down there?” Emberglow asked idly, watching the fields of grain crawl by beneath them.

“Food,” Gadget replied with a smirk.  Emberglow laughed.  “Obviously some kind of grain.  Probably barley; there’s lots of breweries in the region.  You… you’re allowed to drink beer, right?”

“Well, there’s a commandment against drunkenness, but it’s the same as for everypony,” Emberglow said.  “The Vigilant and the Jubilant do take a Vow of Sobriety, but the Radiant only take vows of Chastity and Poverty.”

“Chastity.  Oof, I’m sorry,” Gadget said.  “Must be rough.”

Normally Emberglow would have brushed the question off.  But for some reason, she didn’t this time.

“It can be,” she admitted softly.  “But I’ve always known what I wanted.  Ever since I was a filly, I wanted to join the Radiant.”

“Well, at least you still have beer,” Gadget joked, clapping Emberglow on the back.  A rather sudden jolt of the airship, really just a light shake, made Gadget suddenly stumble and grip Emberglow tightly around her back.  “Whoops, uh… sorry,” she said, taking a moment to regain her hoofing before letting go.

“It’s all right.  Are you okay?” Emberglow asked, her stomach fluttering at the touch.

“Yeah, just a little nervous next to the edge.  Hey, we should be able to see the ocean, soon.  You ever seen the ocean?”

“N-no, never.  We couldn’t afford a lot of vacations,” Emberglow stammered.

“You’re in for a treat then, Lady Emberglow.”

It took about fifteen minutes as the land shifted from flowing fields of barley to tall, lanky wild grass.  The ground was rolling, gentle hills, and Emberglow could see they were covered in sand.  Soon enough, the sparkling water came into view.  Soft waves lapped onto a sandy shore; water glittering like a dragon’s horde stretched endlessly into a grey horizon.  The light reflecting off the water was so bright her eyes hurt, but she didn’t care.  It was beautiful.

“That’s… incredible,” Emberglow said.  “It’s not like a lake at all.  It never stops.”

“Nope,” Gadget said, grinning.  “We’re lucky it’s such a nice day.  The waves are tiny.  It would be the perfect day for a beach trip.  Too bad we don’t have any leave for a while.”

“First leave we have,” Emberglow said, slightly breathlessly.  “We can all go.  I need to visit a beach.”

“Don’t worry.  Sir Delver Deep, the Knight Adamant in charge of our squad, is a good commander, and well prepared.  He makes sure all his pirate hunters know how to swim.  So, you might be getting a beach trip sooner than you think.  Unless you already know how to swim?”

“No, I never saw a need,” Emberglow said.  “New Canterlot City’s pretty landlocked.”

“Yeah, I get that.  Sir Delver made us all learn as soon as we got assigned to the Port.  Even Lady Bubblegum.  She was a mess; nearly had a panic attack when we shoved her into the water,” Gadget laughed.  “She’ll probably try the same with you.  Bit of a hazing thing, really.  Don’t worry, nopony will let you drown.”

“Swimming doesn’t really scare me all that much,” Emberglow said.  Honestly the idea seemed exciting to her.  “I’ll look forward to it.”

“It’s fun,” Gadget replied.  The two ponies stood silently as their conversation drifted off, staring down the beach and at the twinkling waves.  The sounds of the airship surrounded them; creaking planks, stretching ropes, even the businesslike conversations of the sailors and attendants as they wove around the various passengers on deck, performing their tasks.  Emberglow was content to sit and listen for a while, letting the atmosphere wash over her, her gaze locked on the ocean.  Maybe this was what some ponies called ‘the calm before the storm’.  Once she reached the Port, her new life as a Knight would really begin.  But for now, she just wanted to sigh, hang onto the railing of this airship, and watch the waves dance in the sunlight.

“Look there!” Gadget said, pointing at a rock outcropping rising from the ocean.  “That’s called Sea Shine Rock.  Port Luminescence begins just on the other side.  In a minute, you’ll be able to see the first of the buildings.  I’ll go let my dad know we’re almost there.  You keep watch, it may not be the loveliest sight, but it is neat to see the town you’ll be living in from the air.”

Emberglow smiled as her new friend departed, before turning her gaze back to the rock, and the lands that lay beyond. 

“That was cute.  Have fun flirting?” Bubblegum’s voice asked suddenly from behind her. Emberglow jumped, spinning around in a start.

“I wasn’t… you shouldn’t… how long…” Emberglow stammered, took a deep breath, and continued.  “We were not flirting.  That would be illegal.  And morally wrong.  You know that,” she accused.

“Sure, whatever,” Bubblegum said airily.  “Honestly, the whole topic bugs me.  Why would the Holy Diarchs say it’s bad to be gay, then make a bunch of ponies love the same sex?  It makes no sense.  I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with it.”

“I don’t know much about the topic either,” Emberglow said carefully.  “Only that it’s the will of the Diarchs.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Bubblegum said again, looking Emberglow up and down.  “Not like I’d say anything anyways.”

“Say anything about what?” Emberglow said, letting her voice get a little offended.  Bubblegum just shrugged and walked away, leaving Emberglow feeling quite unsettled.  She turned back to watch the approach of Port Luminescence, but the peace and serenity of earlier was completely absent.  With a sigh, she wandered back down into the cabin to retrieve her saddlebags, then went back on deck to see what she could see of Port Luminescence.

Gadget had been right; the Port wasn’t much to look at, even from the air.  Brown streets wound haphazardly around wooden buildings, most with faded and chipping paint.  A few of the buildings had gardens on top, strangely enough, creating the illusion of green roofs.  There was no logic or sense to the layout of the town; unlike New Canterlot City, which spread from a logical central point, Port Luminescence just meandered about every which way, as if drunk.  Emberglow could see the airship dock; rather than an entire city block, with several different docks springing into the air, Port Luminescence had only one, with two arms springing out of the top like tree branches.  One of the branches already had an airship parked at it; the Lost Lamb steered towards the other.

The activity on deck was growing from calm labor into organized chaos.  Purposeful sailors dashed about readying lines, securing sails, and doing whatever it was sailor ponies did to get ready for docking.  Emberglow was a little worried she might be in their way, but reasoned they would say something if she was.  Or not, she corrected herself, looking at the respectful nods those who passed by her gave; she was a Knight, after all, and still dressed clearly in her white robes. 

When the airship reached the dock, several of the sailors tossed lines to ponies waiting on the dock itself, who quickly tied off the ropes into winches that would secure the airship to the dock.  Several lines were tied, and a wide gangplank was extended to the deck of the airship.  A trapdoor in the hull of the airship was also opened and a second, even wider railed gangplank was extended so that dockworker ponies could begin unloading the luggage and other freight of the airship.  Emberglow hesitated a moment, wondering if it was safe to disembark, but when she saw other ponies beginning to move towards the gangplank, she shrugged and went down the wooden plank herself.

The first moment her hooves touched the wooden floor of the dock’s boardwalk was disorienting.  Going from a moving, shifting vehicle to stable ground took a moment to get used to.  Emberglow paused, allowing her body to get used to not moving any longer, before trotting towards the central pillar that held up the entire dock structure.  The inside was much smaller than the one in New Canterlot City, with only a single freight elevator and a spiral staircase going down.  She wondered if somepony would see to her armor in its crate, but then remembered that she had had nothing to do with getting it onboard in the first place, so she probably didn’t have to worry about it here.  She trotted down the stairs and out the large door into the streets of Port Luminescence, waiting outside the doors for the others to disembark and catch up.

“Welcome, Knight Emberglow, to the vast, shining metropolis of Port Luminescence,” Bubblegum said grandly as she caught up with the other Knight.  “Please note the finely paved, immaculately clean streets, the elegant construction of the architecture, and the joy to be seen on all the smiling faces.”  Several nearby ponies scowled at the statement, before going about their way.  

“It’s lovely," she deadpanned. "Where are the other two?”

“On their way.  We’re supposed to meet at the army building.  It’s a few blocks to the south.  The Knights have their own house that Knight Command purchased a few years back, but I’ll show you where that’s at when we’re done meeting with Sir Delver.   Gadget and Gearsmith stay at the barracks with the rest of the soldiers; they don’t need to check in with Delver, so it’ll be just you and me for the next few hours.”

“Lead the way,” Emberglow said patiently, and followed Bubblegum through the streets.  Everything the other ponies had said about Port Luminescence was true; it was filthy but lively. Walking down the streets, it was clear that things were more difficult here than the back home in the capital.  Stallions and mares each seemed to have harder muscles, and many ponies had scars.  There was no air of hostility, however, as ponies called raucously to each other in greeting, laughed loudly at each other’s jokes, and were generally being boisterous.  It was different than what she was used to, but not nearly as bad as she had feared.

The office of the army was one of the few three-story buildings in the area.  It was surrounded by a tall fence, with two shorter buildings fenced in, alongside what looked like a small exercise yard.  One of the smaller buildings was long but narrow, probably a barracks of sorts.  There were two uniformed guards at the gate, armed with spears.  The three-story building was labeled with a wooden sign outside the door, that stated simply, ‘Diarchy Army Headquarters’.  

“Welcome back, Lady Bubblegum,” one of the guards said, saluting with his hoof to his chest.  “Sir Delver and Lady Turquoise are waiting inside, in Sir Delver’s office.”  The two guards pushed the double wooden gate open for the Knights, and they entered into the army headquarters complex.  They found their way into the large, three story building, where Bubblegum guided Emberglow up the stairs to an unmarked office door.  The Knight Adamant knocked on the door, waiting for a muffled, “Come in!” before turning the handle and entering the office.

The office was undecorated, containing only a single wooden desk covered with papers, using rocks as paperweights.  The walls were simple but clean whitewashed wood, and a few odd seating pillows lay scattered on the floor.  The light was provided by a simple chandelier, gas powered, hanging from the ceiling.

Two ponies waited for them inside the spartan office.  Emberglow knew to expect her former mentor, Turquoise, who quickly moved over to hug her former squire.  Like the younger Knights, she was dressed in her own pink robe.    

The other Knight wasn’t wearing a robe, but armor.  His armor was clean, but clearly well used, its blue painted surface covered in hundreds of tiny nicks and gashes.  He was sitting behind his desk, and had risen when Emberglow and Bubblegum had entered, waiting politely while Emberglow and Turquoise greeted each other.  He had a black coat, and a very short, cut grey mane.  It made the much more colourful light blue of his armor stand out.

“Knight Private Emberglow, reporting as ordered, sir,” Emberglow said, saluting the dark stallion with hoof to chest after she ended her hug with Turquoise.  Even though she no longer had to refer to other Knights as Lady or Sir, it was still regulation to refer to the commander of one’s squad, or team, as sir or ma’am.

“Glad to see your flight was uneventful, Emberglow.  I’m Delver Deep.  I see you’ve already met Bubblegum, and Turquoise has already told me much about you. All favorable, don’t worry.  Hard working, brilliant, and clever, I’ve heard.  I’m glad to have you.”  The stallion turned to Bubblegum.  “How many?”

“I have no idea what you—”

“How many, Bubblegum?” the commanding Knight said with a smile and a predatory glint in his eyes.

“Um...”

“You know I can just look it up in the official reports.  They will send them to me, eventually.”

“Three sir,” Bubblegum muttered.

“Three weeks?  That seems light,”

“Three months, sir,” Bubblegum said, sounding annoyed.

“That makes more sense,” Delver replied.  Emberglow and Turquoise glanced at each other in confusion.

“Any money riding on the outcome, sir?” Bubblegum asked, grinning at her superior officer.

“Bubblegum,” he said sternly.  “If you don’t take these things seriously, how will you ever learn proper decorum?”

“Never, sir,” Bubblegum said with a grin, and Delver sighed.  “So, were there bits riding on it?”

“I had fifty bits that you wouldn’t get away with anything less than two months’ docked pay for your little stunt.  You’ve just made me a very slightly richer Knight, Bubblegum.  At the expense of three months of your own salary.”

“Glad to help,” Bubblegum said cheerily.  It was odd to hear this talk of salary; Emberglow reminded herself that three of the Knight Orders, the Mystic, Vigilant, and Adamant, didn’t swear the Oath of Poverty.

“What… did she do?” Turquoise asked, sounding as if she barely dared to.

“I was doodling on my official reports.” Bubblegum shrugged.  “Somepony back at Knight Command didn’t like it, is all.”

“Dicks.  You drew giant dicks on official reports.  With smiley faces.  And name tags written with badly misspelled versions of the names of the very ponies that you were sending reports to.  Did you really expect to get away with it?” 

“Sometimes I just do things,” Bubblegum muttered.  “I don’t always waste time thinking about what’s gonna happen afterwards.”

“Quite.  Now go see your husband.  I’m sure you missed him.”

“Yes, sir!” Bubblegum cheered, pumping her hoof in the air.  She rushed out of the room without another word, leaving a stunned Turquoise and a gently laughing Delver.

“She seems odd,” Turquoise said diplomatically.

“Very odd,” Delver said.  “She’s been serving under me for two years now.  She’s different, but loyal to her squad, and very good in a fight.  She’s saved my soldier’s lives a dozen times, and mine too.  It’s worth the occasional aggravation of having to put up with disciplinary hearings, and three months docked pay.”

“She’ll be okay, right?” Emberglow asked cautiously.  “I mean, she’ll have enough money to manage?”

“She’ll be fine.  Or rather, they’ll be fine.  Wind Storm, her husband, is very down-to-earth,” Delver said, with a chuckle at his pun.  “He’s good with money, and he gets a decent salary as the head weather pony in charge of things around the Port.  She’ll suffer, but not enough to cause real problems.”

“That’s good,” Emberglow said, relieved.

“But will she actually learn her lesson?” Turquoise asked.  Delver shook his head.

“Next month it’ll be some other mischief.  She doesn’t really do it on purpose, she just has no impulse control.  An idea enters her head, she thinks it’ll be funny, and next thing you know it, it’s another flight back to New Canterlot City for another disciplinary council and a few more months docked pay, or whatever discipline tactic they’re working on next.  If she weren’t so blasted useful, and if her infractions were more than just foalish silliness, I’d be seriously worried about her position as a Knight.  As it is, they’d never kick her out for something this stupid.”

“You think it’s funny,” Turquoise accused, pointing at the stallion.  Delver laughed.

“A bit, yeah.  Sometimes it’s nice to be around somepony that has no filter.  Every so often she says all the things we wish we could, but are too polite to consider.  But anyways, on to other business.  Emberglow, have you been briefed on the situation here in the Port?”

“A little, but not much,” Emberglow admitted.  “I know there’s a zebra pirate tormenting ships between here and the colonies on the Zebrica continent.  I know he’s sunk five ships so far, and stolen large amounts of cargo.”

“Let me fill you in a bit on the local politics,” Delver said.  “Port Luminescence is ruled by a stallion they call Portmaster Blingshine.  The stallion is a pirate, pure and simple.”

“A pirate?” Emberglow asked, cocking her head. Had she misheard? “Aren’t we hunting pirates?”

“Well, he’s a pirate who works for us.  Or, more accurately, he’s a pirate whose goals align with ours.  Blingshine is wealthy, and as long as he cooperates with the army, and any nearby Knights, he keeps getting wealthier.  Our job is hunting down the pirates, but our second job, no less important, is keeping Blingshine happy.  If we got rid of him, he would simply be replaced by the same kind of pony, one who may or may not be willing to work as closely with us.  So we turn a blind eye to some of the more unsavory things that happen in this town, in the name of keeping the peace with Blingshine.  Meanwhile, he knows not to go too far over the line, lest we cut our losses and try again with the next scoundrel who will hold his position.”

“I… see,” Emberglow said, though she was still a little confused.  “Can you spell it out for me in practical terms?”

“Mostly, stay out of Blingshine’s way.  He’s going to want to meet the new Knight.  He’s going to try to bribe you, seduce you, and manipulate you.  Turn him down without insulting him, and we won’t have additional problems.  If you think he’s doing something to hurt or hinder us, let me or Turquoise know before you act on it, and we’ll act together.”

“I can do that, sir,” Emberglow said.

“Now I believe you need directions to the house we’re staying at?” Delver asked.  “I’d be happy to find a soldier who can show you the way.”

“If it’s okay with you, sir, I’d love to show her,” Turquoise said, smiling slightly at Emberglow.  “We haven’t seen each other in several months, besides at her assessment.  I’d like to catch up.”

“Oh.  Of course, that makes sense.  We’re done here.  Emberglow, we’re meeting here, in this office, at zero-seven-hundred hours tomorrow morning to go over our plan of action.  Until then, your time is yours.  Feel free to explore the town, or rest in our house.  The rougher elements of the Port should leave you alone when they see your uniform, but if not, remind them why they should, hmm?  Have a good night, you two.”

“You’ll like the house, Emberglow,” Turquoise commented as they left the building.  “It has a full-time caretaker and a gardener.  He grows the most amazing fresh produce on the roof, and she’s a phenomenal cook.”

“I saw quite a few rooftop gardens on the way in,” Emberglow said.  “Is that because of the flooding?”

“Yes, it can get quite nasty around here.  Luckily for you, you don’t have to deal with it when it gets really muddy,” Turquoise said, with good-natured envy and a glance at Emberglow’s wings.  “The house also has a huge, relaxing tub in the basement.  I know…” The older mare trailed off thoughtfully, looking at Emberglow.  “You don’t think it’s cheating, do you?  Making use of luxury that already exists?”  Emberglow laughed.

“You’re the theologian, what do you think?” Emberglow asked, both amused and surprised that her former mentor would be asking her opinion, though she supposed they were equals now.  Turquoise smiled.

“It’s not sinful, even with our Vow of Poverty, to make use of resources provided specifically for Knights like us.  Resources such as big giant hot tubs and bubble bath.”

“Actually… a bubble bath might be absolutely fantastic.  I’ll explore the city some other day,” Emberglow said with a sigh of anticipation.  The two mares shared a friendly laugh as they trotted off through the streets.
> Chapter 12
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 12


Emberglow’s Journal Entry, dated 1112 AF

I think I’m going to turn this dream journal into a regular journal.  My intent was to record the strange dreams I had about the mare in the moon (I know who Lofty thinks she is, and I think he’s right, but I still don’t want to write Her name down) but I haven’t dreamed of her since I left the capital.  Can she not contact me when I’m this far away?  Either way, I wanted to start recording my non-dream thoughts and feelings, and this seems like the perfect spot.  Don’t worry, journal.  I’ll still record every dream.

The port is not at all what I expected.  I have no really clear memories of what life was like outside of New Canterlot City, but I’m sure Rainbow Falls was nothing like this.  The ponies don’t seem to care about the Saints at all.  They offer lip service, but I’m starting to suspect that even that is just because I’m within earshot.  I’m trying to get used to seeing prostitutes and drug dealers plying their wares in broad daylight, but I don’t think I ever will.

The radio reports from NCC say they’re having an oddly unseasonal cold snap.  The news says the early frost has destroyed tons of crops in the northern Diarchy.  I’m worried about my parents; the food shortages threaten to drive up prices, and they’re not wealthy.

This is probably the first time I’ve felt jealous of my comrades in the Adamant.  I find myself full of sinful covetousness, wishing I had their salary so I could send it home to my parents.  Knowing them though, they’d probably try to find a way to refuse.

I’m finding myself oddly afraid of this unnatural weather.  it’s not hitting us this far south, but something in the news reports made me think of the creatures from my vision, when I touched the orb back before I was Knighted.  The frigid, cold creatures.  Even writing about them here makes me shiver.

Ugh.  That’s enough journal writing for today, I think.  I’d rather not give myself nightmares.

1112 AF, Port Luminescence

Turquoise affectionately called the Knights’ home in Port Luminescence the Turtle.  It was wide and squat, only two stories tall compared to the other three- or four-story ‘manors’ that it shared a neighborhood with, though that name hardly seemed apt to Emberglow when compared to the grand stone structures of New Canterlot City.  Port Luminescence’s wealthiest neighborhood had finer houses than the rest of the town, but that merely meant the wooden and stucco houses were slightly larger and less covered in mud.  The Turtle didn’t have much by way of a yard or grounds, though the squat roof did hold an impressive garden, and it was wider than most of its neighboring buildings.

The interior held enough space for personal rooms for six Knights, including two bathrooms (one of which contained the all-important giant tub!), one on the upstairs with the bedrooms, the other downstairs near the entrance.  There was a kitchen and a dining room, complete with an elegant long table and electric lights hanging from the ceiling.  The caretaker and gardener, an aged earth pony couple, stayed in a small suite next to the kitchen.  Lime Peel and Painted Plow were quiet, respectful, and competent, and Emberglow liked them the moment she met them.  They kept the place spotless, and as soon as Emberglow and Turquoise walked into the Turtle, Emberglow could smell the evidence of Lime Peel’s expert culinary skills.  Turquoise had inhaled deeply as soon as the front doors were open, proclaiming ‘tacos!’ cheerfully as she ushered the younger Knight into the manor.

The two mares took turns with the giant bubble bath before dinner.  Lime Peel assured them they could eat when they were done, and Emberglow felt like she really needed the soothing soapy water after her long airship ride.  She stayed in until the water began to grow cold.

Dinner was delightful, though the large dining room, designed for nearly a dozen ponies, felt quite empty with only Emberglow and Turquoise.  Delver was working late, and Bubblegum was spending time with her husband at the modest home they shared.  The soldiers who would be joining them for the mission, including Gearsmith and Gadget, were housed at the barracks near where Emberglow had met Sir Delver.  So the older Knight and her former squire indulged on hoof-made tortillas and perfectly seasoned beans and vegetables while Emberglow and Turquoise caught up.  Afterwards, Turquoise showed Emberglow to her room.

It was larger than she was used to at nearly three times the size of her room at home.  It was empty, and perhaps a bit soulless in its lack of decoration.  There was a simple box frame bed, a small shelf for books, and a simple desk, all sitting on a polished wood floor.

To the right of the door sat a wooden crate; it was her armor.  Porters from the airship dock had already brought it.  She slipped her saddlebags off her back, setting them at the foot of her new bed.  The crate had already been pried open, the lid lying loose on the top.

“Is this your new armor?” Turquoise asked from the hallway outside Emberglow’s room.  Emberglow nodded silently, her eyes fixed on the box like a foal lusting after her Hearth's Warming presents.  “Well?  Might as well open it.  I want to see, too.”

Carefully Emberglow lifted the lid of the crate.  Inside was a brand new, shiningly pristine set of white armor.

“Aw, it’s not pink,” Turquoise whined.  Emberglow snorted her amusement.

“I would have been disappointed if it was,” she replied, running her hoof lovingly over the three blue diamond motif painted on the flank of the armor.

“I’m proud of you, Knight,” Turquoise said, and Emberglow looked up with surprise at the strained voice of her former mentor.  Turquoise’s eyes were shining and wet, and the pink-robed mare rubbed at her eyes with her sleeve.  “I’m so proud.”

“Getting emotional, Lady Turquoise?” Emberglow teased.  Turquoise’s ears twitched.

“Hush, you.  I’m not crying, it’s liquid pride.  Besides, you don’t have to call me Lady any more.  You know that.”

“A year of habit doesn’t go away in an hour, Turquoise,” Emberglow said.  “No matter what happens, you’ll always be Lady Turquoise to me, even if I don’t say it.”  The older Knight laughed, and drew Emberglow into an affectionate embrace.

“Well, get some rest.  If I know Delver, tomorrow will be busy.  We’ve got some diplomatic responsibilities to take care of first before we can set sail, and dealing with the locals can be exhausting.  I’ll come get you for breakfast at 0700, if you’re not up yet.”

“I’ll be up,” Emberglow said.  She was a natural early riser.  “Good night, Turquoise.”

“Night,” the other mare said, and slipped into the hallway, pulling the wooden door closed behind her and leaving Emberglow alone to unpack her sparse possessions: a pair of spare robes and underthings, her personal copy of the Book of the Saints, the official Knight Code of Conduct manual, and her journal.  Last of all were her good luck charms; a pair of carved wooden ponies, and a metal medallion carved to look like her cutie mark.  These she placed on her shelf.  

“Well, we’re here, Lucky,” she whispered gently to the carved unicorn.  “I’m so excited.  And nervous.  I hope I’ll be good enough.”

The bed was just as comfortable as it had looked, but with her body full of nervous energy and her head full of excited thoughts, it still was a few hours before Emberglow was able to drift off to sleep.


*   *   *   *   *


The next morning Emberglow was the second into the dining room, ten minutes before seven in the morning.  Delver sat by himself at the long table, idly chewing on some toast while he looked over paperwork. He was already dressed in his armor.

“Good morning, sir,” Emberglow said as she approached.  The black coated stallion looked up and waved a hoof, fork and all, at Emberglow.

“Morning, Knight.  Sleep well?” he asked politely.  Emberglow nodded and pulled out a chair across from him, taking a seat.  “Wonderful.  Busy day today.”

“That’s what Turquoise said.  Something about meeting the locals?”

“Sometimes keeping Blingshine happy means playing his ridiculous games.  He’s known for a week that a new Knight was coming to town, and he wants to meet you.  He always asks to meet with any new Knights that come to town.  He’s going to try to feel you out.”

“Why?  What’s he after?” Emberglow asked.  There was a light hoofstep entering the dining room as Lime Peel approached the table.  Both of the Knights’ ears perked up as they looked up at the elderly caretaker.

“Sorry to interrupt, sir, lady.  Lady Emberglow, what would you like for breakfast?” the lime green earth pony mare asked gently.

“Um…” Emberglow hesitated, not really knowing what she could ask for.  Delver came to her rescue.

“Breakfast is casual here, and the caretaker will make pretty much whatever you want.  Lime Peel makes great pancakes, and the eggs are always fresh.  None of that powdered crap you get on the war fronts, mind you.  Real maple syrup, too.  Can’t get good coffee with all the piracy between here and the zebra republic, though,” he said.

“Can I get Prench toast, then?” Emberglow asked.  “And any coffee is fine.” It hurt a little to say that sentence out loud, but she’d manage.

“Of course, Lady Emberglow.  I got some blueberries and fresh cream in the icebox, if you want those on top of your Prench toast,” the caretaker replied.  Emberglow nodded, her mouth watering in anticipation.

“How do you take your coffee?” the elderly caretaker asked.

“Black, please,” Emberglow said.  Lime Peel bustled off, leaving the two Knights alone.  “So what should I expect from Blingshine?”

“He’s going to prod you.  Test you.  He wants to know what kind of Knight you are, if you have any buttons he can push, all while under the veneer of a polite meeting.  I’ve got us scheduled to go meet with him for lunch.”

“Any advice?” Emberglow asked, feeling apprehensive.  Delver paused, considering.

“Honestly, Blingshine is the reason I requested a Knight Jubilant be assigned here.  I’m not a diplomat.  Turquoise has been here a month and already she’s brought my stress levels down measurably.  So you’ll have to talk to her more about that.  If I were to suggest anything, it would be this: be polite but vague in your answers.  Be aware of your emotions and your reactions, and don’t let him push you.  He’s going to want to figure out how you fit into whatever petty plots or schemes he’s got going on, so if you give him nothing, he can’t use you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Emberglow said.  “I’ll keep all that in mind.”

Turquoise wandered into the dining room shortly afterwards, smiling but slightly bleary eyed from sleep.  She slumped into her chair and waited patiently for Lime Peel’s return.  The caretaker entered the dining room to drop off a fresh stack of Prench toast in front of Emberglow. 

“Morning, Lime,” Turquoise mumbled.  “Eggs and toast.  Black coffee, please.  Sunny side up on the eggs.”  Lime Peel left the dining room with a smile and a nod for Turquoise.

“Morning!  Coffee and pancakes, please!” A cheerful shout came from the door to the dining room as Bubblegum, followed by a pegasus stallion Emberglow had never met, blew into the room. Turquoise flinched at the volume, her ears instinctively flinching away from the verbal explosion.  

The Knight Adamant was dressed in her blue armor.  Similar to Delver’s, it was clearly well-maintained and well used, with the obvious scratches and nicks that indicated combat usage.  Emberglow was slightly surprised by the obvious care Bubblegum took in her armor; she’d expected the mare who was so sloppy with her discipline and professionalism to be sloppy with her possessions as well.  

The stallion was tall and lanky, with a coat the color of storm clouds and a windswept pale green mane.  He was wearing simple brown trousers and a white linen shirt, the kind of style that, if he added a tricorn hat and an eyepatch, would look like he was a pirate from the illustrated foal’s books Emberglow used to read.  He had an earnest, friendly sort of look on his face.

The overly cheerful Adamant pointed at Emberglow.  “That’s the new girl I told you about, Windy.”

The pegasus, Wind Storm, eyed his wife critically, as if silently waiting for more.  Bubblegum stayed pointing at Emberglow, a silly grin plastered on her face.  Finally she noticed her husband’s disapproving gaze, and looked at him with confusion.

“What?” she asked.  He sighed, and moved gently past his wife to approach Emberglow with a bow.

“Hello, Lady Emberglow, I am Wind Storm.  I apologize for my wife’s rudeness.”

“Nice to meet you, Wind Storm,” Emberglow said, trying not to laugh at Bubblegum’s pouting face.  She decided she quite liked Bubblegum’s husband; he seemed to be a grounded sort of stallion.  She stood up and held out a hoof to the other pegasus, and they shook.

“You don’t know how glad I am to know there will be a Knight Radiant out there on the seas with my Bubblegum,” he said as he squeezed her hoof with both of his.  His eyes were worried, full of love and earnestness.  Emberglow felt a lump in her throat, suddenly feeling the weight of her new responsibilities as she looked into this stallion’s eyes.  “You’ll keep them safe?”

“Of course,” Emberglow said, her throat suddenly dry.  Bubblegum grunted, moving up to bump her husband with her flank.

“Why are you getting so serious all of a sudden?  I’ve been just fine this far,” Bubblegum groused.  She brushed past Emberglow and her husband to find an empty seat at the long table.  Her husband sat down next to her.

“You’ve been lucky,” Wind Storm teased, though Emberglow thought she heard a note of worry behind the light tone.

“Enough,” Delver cut in, just as Bubblegum had opened her mouth to protest.  She scowled at him, but Wind Storm nodded respectfully.  “We have business to discuss.”

The itinerary for the next few days was a busy one.  In addition to Emberglow’s meeting with Blingshine for lunch this afternoon (which would be attended by Turquoise and Deep Delver, but not Bubblegum, for ‘diplomatic reasons’), there would be a chance for Emberglow to meet all the marines who would be serving with the Knights.  The afternoon after the meeting would be filled with a tour of the ship they would be sailing on, and swimming lessons in the ocean.  Even though she knew it would be business, Emberglow was excited for the beach.  Over the next week, Emberglow would get a crash course in both swimming and ship-to-ship combat before the Knights and their marines embarked on the Lady Elegant, a three mast merchant ship deliberately built to disguise the presence of both the Knights, and the three pairs of heavy cannons.  Emberglow thought it a good omen to be embarking on a ship named after her patron Saint.

“Thank you for letting me join you for breakfast,” Wind Storm announced after the ponies finished an amazing breakfast with somewhat mediocre coffee.  “I’ve got to get started.  The Port’s clouds won’t bust themselves, and the Weather Bueareu hasn’t scheduled any rain for a week.”

“We should all be about our tasks,” Delver said.  “Emberglow, you’re with Turquoise and Bubblegum this morning.  They have business at the barracks as well.”  After saying their goodbyes to the caretakers, they set off for the barracks, a building inside the walled compound that housed the headquarters for the Diarchy Army.  The two spear-armed guards, wearing polished gunmetal colored armor, saluted the three Knights as they entered.

In the mowed grass lawn in front of the barracks, ten marines stood at attention waiting for the Knights.  Each one was wearing long jacket-style blue uniforms with yellow trim.  She recognized Gearsmith and Gadget; the mare broke her stance long enough to grin and wink at Emberglow before resuming her position.  Three of the ponies, including Gadget, wore the bar of a Private First Class on their right shoulder.  Gearsmith had the double bar plus crossed sabers of a corporal.  

“Knights!  Welcome back to Port Luminescence!  All three fire teams of Strike Squad Epsilon are ready for your inspection!” the pony closest to them called out.  She wore the same uniform, only with three bars and crossed sabers on her shoulder.  She was an earth pony, with white fur and a three-toned green mane, cut short in a military style.

“Thank you, Sergeant Arrow,” Turquoise said.  The inspection was mostly a courtesy; the Diarchy armed forces and the Knight orders shared an odd relationship.  While technically not part of the military command structure, marines were often assigned as support to teams of Knights.  “This is Lady Emberglow, of the Radiant.”

The Sergeant was a perfect picture of military discipline, but Emberglow could see the pleased look in the mare’s eyes as she stepped forward to offer her hoof for Emberglow to shake.  Her grip was strong.

“I heard we would be finally getting a Radiant.  Ever since Morning Dew went on maternity leave we haven’t had a medic.  Your presence will save lives, Lady Emberglow.  Thanks for being here.  My command has informed me that you will be our acting squad medic for the duration of your stay here,” the Sergeant said.  “Are you familiar with marine medic protocol?”

“A little,” Emberglow said.  There was some precedent for Knights being temporarily placed in the command structure of regular army units, so it was covered briefly in the Knight Code of Conduct book she had brought with her.  “I won’t be able to give orders or anything, except as it pertains to medical care and the health and wellbeing of your soldiers.  Is that correct?”

“More or less.  I’ll go over the procedures with you in detail, if you wish,” Sergeant Arrow said.  “For this morning, I wanted to introduce you to the squad and go over any questions with you.”  

“We have a few hours until our lunch appointment,” Turquoise said.  “Emberglow, if you’re fine here, you can meet the marines while Bubblegum and I go to speak with the local quartermaster about our provisions for the ship.”

“Boring stuff,” Bubblegum chimed in cheerfully.

Both of her more senior compatriots were looking at her for her assent.  It felt odd to be treated as an equal; for the last several years she had been a med student, then a page, then a squire. Something about being seen as an equal to these two Knights was weirdly frightening and elating at the same time.  She grinned at her own silly thoughts.

“Um, of course.”  She turned to Sergeant Arrow, trying to sound confident.  Military ponies responded to confidence, she thought.  “Sergeant, I’d like to meet with each of your squad, and go over anything I should know in their medical records.  Do we have time for a quick check up each?”

“I don’t see why not,” Sergeant Arrow said.  “You can use Morning Dew’s old office while we’re in Port Luminescence.  I’ll show you where she kept the medical records.”

The old Squad Epsilon medic’s office was in the same building that housed Delver’s office.  It contained a desk, an examination table, a filing cabinet, and an empty cabinet.

“No supplies?” Emberglow asked the sergeant as she inspected her new domain.  Sergeant Arrow shrugged.

“I think Morning Dew took everything with her before she shipped back to Harper’s Ford.  We didn’t think you’d need anything, because of your, um, magic.”

“In addition to my Knight training, I have also been classically trained as a doctor,” Emberglow informed the sergeant while she opened up the filing cabinet.  At least the squad’s records had been left inside.  She ignored the incredulous look the sergeant was giving her.  “I believe in an inclusive approach to pony health.  Medical technology and science exist for a reason, and magic isn’t always the best solution to every problem.  Would it be possible to requisition some basic medical supplies from the navy?  I can give you a list of what I will need.”

“Of course, Lady Emberglow,” Sergeant Arrow said professionally, hiding her surprise.  In truth, Emberglow didn’t care if ponies thought she was odd, as long as she could keep them healthy.  She flipped through the folders, each one with a pony’s name written in narrow, tight hoofwriting.  She found the one she was looking for, labeled with the name ‘Ice Arrow, Sergeant’.

“Shall we get started?” she asked with a smile.  Sergeant Arrow stared at her, confused.  “How long since your last physical, Sergeant Arrow?”  The pony said nothing, but looked suddenly uncomfortable.  “Sergeant?  Last time I looked, Navy and Marine regulations both require a physical for each soldier at least once every six months.  Is that correct?”

“Yes, Lady Emberglow,” the sergeant said, sounding miserable.

“So how long has it been?” Emberglow asked.  “Remember, I can…”

“Two years, Lady Emberglow,” Sergeant Arrow said in a rush.

“I see,” Emberglow said simply.  “Well, uniform off, up on the exam table please.  You may leave your smallclothes on.”  She ignored the pained sigh the sergeant gave, instead taking a moment while the mare disrobed to glance through her medical file.  There was nothing alarming, except a note in the same tight hoofwriting as the outside of the file, regarding a near paralyzing fear of needles and immunizations.

“This is Morning Dew’s hoofwriting, correct?” Emberglow asked.  She looked up to see Sergeant Ice Arrow, wearing nothing but underpants, sitting and trying not to shiver on the examination table.  Her body was muscled, tight with years of experience and exercise.  A collection of blade scars decorated her front legs and shoulders, and Emberglow could see a long healed, rather nasty bullet wound in the mare’s barrel.

“Yes, Lady Emberglow,” Sergeant Arrow said.

“Very well,” Emberglow said confidently.  “Morning Dew was quite impressed with your health.  You eat right, exercise regularly, and generally lead your troops by example.  You’re also months overdue for at least four immunizations.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the older mare said miserably.

“Fortunately for you today, I have no supplies yet, so I won’t be doing any poking today,” Emberglow said.  “Just a basic physical.  But you can’t hold it off forever, sergeant.  Just remember, it won’t be nearly as bad as when you got this,” she stepped over to the table and patted the sergeant's bullet wound.  Sergeant Arrow flinched.

Despite the promise of future shots, Sergeant Ice Arrow stoically endured the remainder of Emberglow’s physical examination.  In truth, without common instruments such as a sphygmomanometer or a stethoscope, there was not much she could do.  The whole exam only took ten minutes, and afterwards a relieved Sergeant was dismissed and asked to send in the next pony on file, a Cerulean Mallard, PFC.  While Emberglow waited, she read over Mallard’s file.  Nothing much stood out, except for a slight limp caused by a five year old spear injury to one of his rear legs.

One by one, each of the marines of Strike Squad Epsilon came in for Emberglow’s quick examination.  To a pony, every single one was respectful, and excited to have her joining them.  Each one was eager to meet her, and despite years of being a bit of a studious loner with few friends besides her parents and Lofty Tale, Emberglow found herself enjoying the chance to meet the soldiers she would be fighting alongside and keeping alive and healthy.  After several sessions of examinations and chats, though, she soon found herself holding Gadget's file.

Medical records were confidential.  An entire class in medical school had been dedicated to medical ethics, and the responsibility of a healer to keep her patients’ confidence.  Only a Confessor or a Knight could violate that confidence, and in the latter case, only if the pony was accused of a dire crime.  Doctors and other healers often had to have a complete picture of a pony’s lifestyle, so sometimes embarrassing or secret details could be found in their medical records.  Emberglow knew that her own included a statement about her homosexuality, as many doctors considered it a mental illness.  Not enough to keep her from serving as a Knight, however.  Emberglow’s stomach practically did flips as she read the words in Gadget’s records.

Confessed Homosexual.  Non-Practicing.

It was the same words listed in Emberglow’s medical records.  She had already dismissed the last soldier; Gadget was on her way.  What would she say?  Would she confess to her fellow sufferer?  Emberglow had never really spoken to another pony who was struggling with the same attractions she was; except for a few brief conversations serving soup to ponies being punished in the stockades.  Or maybe she should simply ignore it?  Pretend she hadn’t read?  No, that wouldn’t work; just as she knew her own records were marked, Gadget would know what was written in hers.

And how was she supposed to do an examination objectively?  She’d performed physicals on mares before, but none of them had been so…

The office’s wooden door opened, and the blue earth pony stepped inside, looking nervous.

“Lady Emberglow, it’s good to see you again,” Gadget said, her voice unsteady.  Emberglow managed a smile.

“Come in, Gadget.  Please disrobe and move up to the examination table.  You may leave your smallclothes on.”  It was a miracle her smile didn’t waver, and her voice remained calm.  “Your records are all in order.  Up to date on immunizations, no significant health concerns, no major injuries.  You’ve taken care of yourself.”

“I try, my lady,” Gadget said.  She had managed to get out of her uniform, and was sitting up on the table in nothing but her underpants, and Emberglow’s eyes dragged over the mare, just as cute in her fur as she had been in her uniform.  With great effort, Emberglow kept her jaw from dropping as she took in every line and curve of the mare’s body, every perfect muscle and every immaculate strand of her blond mane.  She stepped over to her patient, unable to look her in the eyes.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a stethoscope just yet, I’ll have to check your heart and lungs the old fashioned way,” Emberglow said, while wondering how she could possibly hear the beating of another pony’s heart over the pounding of her own.  “Please lay back.”  The soldier complied, laying on her back on the table.  With shaking hooves, Emberglow checked Gadget’s pulse first, feeling for the strong, steady beat of the earth pony’s heart.  Then she placed her ear on the patient’s chest, trying not to marvel in the softness of the blue fur as she listened for any breathing problems.  It was just like all the other physicals she had done, except for the nearly debilitating infatuation that was growing in her chest like a warm glow.  When she raised her head from the other mare’s chest, their eyes met, and Emberglow realized she hadn’t been as successful as she had hoped in hiding her reactions.

“You’ve read my file,” Gadget said softly.  “All of it.”  Emberglow nodded.

“I’m your doctor, marine.  Not your Confessor,” she replied.  “As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing in your file I need to be worried about, so there’s no cause for concern.  You seem perfectly healthy, too.”  Something passed between them, from Gadget’s green eyes to Emberglow’s teal ones.  Emberglow realized her hooves were shaking, one of them still resting on the mare’s chest from the examination.  She hastily removed it and stepped back, the distance between the two mares feeling like a sudden necessity.  Emberglow opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly couldn’t think of anything.  What could she say?  Nothing either of them could say or do would do anything to change the situation they were in.  Emberglow didn’t know about Gadget, but the Knight had promised herself ages ago she would never act on her forbidden impulses.  She imagined, due to Gadget’s membership in the army, that the earth pony had made a similar promise.  She closed her mouth again, letting the pregnant silence continue its gravid hold as she turned away.

“You can get dressed, Gadget.  Thanks for coming in.  Can you send in your father next?”  She tried to make her voice cheerful, and not shaky.

“Of course, my lady.  And if the others haven’t said it yet, we’re all so glad you’re here.  Having a Knight Radiant is a blessing, and I’m glad it's somepony like you,” Gadget said.  Emberglow turned, smiling over her shoulder at the other mare.

“Only every other pony including the Sergeant has said so, Gadget.  But thanks for saying it again anyways.  I only hope I can live up to your expectations.”

The moment had passed, and Emberglow had survived without doing anything too sinful or even too embarrassing.  She distracted herself by looking over the next file, Gadget’s father Gearsmith.  For a middle-aged soldier pony with plenty of combat experience and dozens of old war wounds, he seemed to be in fairly good health himself.  Idly, she wondered if Gearsmith knew about the little notation in Gadget’s medical file.  Soon enough the older, blue-furred stallion entered her new office with a polite greeting.

“Hello, Lady Emberglow,” he said.  “How are you acclimating to the town?”

“I haven’t had much of a chance to see it yet,” she responded.  “I sure like The Turtle, though.”

“The Turtle?  Oh, the house you Knights live in.  I’ve seen it once or twice.  Quite nice,” he said.  “What do you need me to do?”

“Strip down to your underpants and get up on the exam table,” she said.  The motions of a physical were automatic, and she performed her tasks with casual precision.  Just as his file claimed, Gearsmith was in good health, with a strong heartbeat.

“How long have you been a soldier?” Emberglow asked.

“It wasn’t in my file?” Gearsmith snarked, laughing, before answering anyways.  “I lied about my age when I was fifteen to join up with the navy.  I’ve always loved ships, so I started out as an engineer on a supply ship running guns and ammo between Port Daywatch and Camp Swift Victory, in northern Zebrica.  When we were ambushed by a squadron of zebra raiders, I took up the rifle of a fallen comrade and realized I was a damned good shot.  Since then I’ve always carried a heavy gun.”

“And your wife?” Emberglow asked.

“We met in Daywatch.  Merry Gray was in the army briefly, but… well, not everypony is built for war and fighting.  She took a medical retirement as soon as she became pregnant with Gadget.  I took a post training heavy gunners in New Canterlot City, and she got a job as a groundskeeper for the Sorbet family.”  Gearsmith laughed at a memory.  “The kid took after me too much, I think.  Merry had talked about how excited she was to have a daughter, and I think she was looking forward to, well, doing girly things with her.  You know, frilly dresses, tea parties, that sort of thing.”

“Not the way things turned out?” Emberglow asked, grinning.  She was enjoying the conversation with the older soldier.

“Oh no.  The kid was much more at home with me tinkering with airship engines and firearms than she was in a fancy parlor.  Not that Merry ever loved her any less, but Gadget did turn out quite the surprise for both of us.  Didn’t surprise us at all when she turned sixteen and wanted to enlist.  The army takes ‘em as young as that, but only with parents’ permission,” Gearsmith sighed.  “I was sure Merry was gonna kill me when Gadget asked us.  Instead she just smiled sadly, and said she’d let the kid go as long as I went to watch after her and keep her safe.  So we both ended up in the same unit, with the kid as my assistant.”  He blinked, and his ears pinned back suddenly.  “I’m sorry, ma’am.  I didn’t mean to ramble on about my daughter.  That’s not exactly why we’re here, is it?”

“Don’t apologize, I’m having fun,” Emberglow said with a smile.  She had finished her simple exam, and motioned for Gearsmith to get dressed again.  “The whole point of these physicals is to get to know my squad, after all.  I don’t even really have the instruments to do a proper physical.  It’s nice to get to know the ponies I’ll be working with.”

“’Your squad’, eh new girl?” Gearsmith teased.  Emberglow blushed.

“Well, yeah.  Sergeant Arrow did say I'm officially the squad medic,” she said.

“I’m just teasing, Lady Emberglow.  You’ll fit in here just fine,” he said as he finished putting on his uniform.  “Is there anything else you needed?”

“Yeah, uhm, I was wondering about something,” Emberglow asked, thinking that the older, more mature stallion might be the best pony to ask about this particular curiosity.  “I’ve read that some military units engage in, um, mostly harmless bouts of practical jokes, teasing, and harassment, often slightly ritualistic in nature, towards new members.”

“What?” Gearsmith said, confused.  Emberglow could see his mind working, the gears turning as he pieced together what she had said.  “Oh, you mean hazing?”

“Yes, that,” Emberglow said nervously.  “Does your strike squad do hazing?”

“Well, yeah, each military unit does a little.  It’s usually harmless.”

“Even your strike squad?” she pressed.  She’d read a few accounts, both in fiction and nonfiction, of hazing rituals in military units.  While most writers described the activities as mostly harmless, the accounts had sounded disturbingly similar to what she had experienced in the Ivy Seminary.  She tried to keep her voice casual, but something must have slipped, because Gearsmith’s ears perked up as he eyed her sharply.

“Something the matter, Lady Emberglow?” Gearsmith asked.  She said nothing, and the older soldier reached out as if to pat her on the shoulder with one hoof, before hesitating at the last second and lowering it.  “By the Saints, ma'am.  You’re nervous about it happening to you?”  He sighed.  “Don’t be.  We may act casual around Lady Bubblegum, but that’s just how she is.  Our soldiers would never dream of treating you that way.”  He smiled, a little warily.  “Please don’t think me overreaching, Lady Emberglow, but, well…” he hesitated, scratching at the back of his mane with one hoof.  “You’re young.  Really young.  Younger than my daughter.  But ponies are gonna forget that, because you’re a Knight.  I forgot that for a bit myself.  Because of who you are, you’re not going to be treated like other soldiers.”  His smile widened.  “You haven’t heard what the other soldiers were saying in the barracks last night.  We’re an elite combat unit, ma’am, but we lose ponies too.  Still will, probably.  But having you around is one of the best things for morale that’s ever happened.  There’s no way anypony in the squad would mess with you like that.”

“So what, I’m like a mascot?” Emberglow asked, giggling at the horrified look Gearsmith gave her.  “It’s okay, Gearsmith.  I was just nervous about it, that’s all.  It’s hard to be the new girl, you know?  Thanks for making me feel better.”

“Any time, ma’am.  Want me to send in the next pony?” he asked.

“Sure.  And Gearsmith?  I don’t mind being a mascot.  Just don’t expect perfection.”


*   *   *   *   *


Maybe Delver and Turquoise had biased her with their descriptions, but Emberglow was not impressed by her first glimpse of Blingshine’s manor.

“This is it?” she deadpanned as the three Knights approached the two-story stucco structure.  Delver nodded patiently, but Turquoise laughed.

“Tell us how you really feel, Emberglow,” she said while giggling.

“I mean, when you said ‘manor’, I assumed something perhaps a bit grander and less garish,” Emberglow explained.  Like the Turtle, the "manor" was only two stories tall, but it was wide and expansive, with huge open windows and a gigantic porch.  The entire mansion was contained within an enclosed grounds, surrounded by a stone wall two ponies tall.  Emberglow could see the leaves of palm trees reaching over the estate walls.  The outer wall was interrupted by a pair of gilded brass gates, needlessly ornate with curving, flowery designs.  Two burly looking guards stood at the gates, eyeing the Knights as they approached.

“If you think the outside is bad…” Turquoise muttered under her breath.  Emberglow glanced at her. Her tone had been full of snark, but her face was a diplomatically blank mask.  She glanced back at the earth pony guards, who were dressed in cheap-looking, polished brass armor and carried sheathed, curved cutlasses.

“Welcome to Blingshine manor, yer honors,” one of the guards slurred.  His partner pulled the gate open for the Knights.  “His governorship is waiting for ya in the garden.  I’ll show ya the way.”

“Thank you, good stallion,” Turquoise said serenely.  They had agreed beforehand that she would do most of the speaking.

Just as Turquoise had said, the inside was even more cheaply flamboyant than the outside.  Emberglow could see garishly colored curtains hanging in each of the manor’s exterior windows, an explosion of clashing hues.  The grounds were immaculately kept, complete with large carved topiaries in the shape of sultry, curvaceous mares in scanty attire.  Emberglow might have been bothered if it weren’t so comically ridiculous.

The guard led the way to an outdoor garden, where a banquet table sat underneath a canvas canopy.  The table was spread with an array of exotic fruits and vegetables, many of which were clearly imported, being not even remotely suitable for the current climate or time of year.  There were baked pastries as well, and even what looked like a pair of fish dishes.  Emberglow knew that some ponies living near large bodies of water sometimes consumed fish, but she caught the scent of the meat and decided that she probably wasn’t going to be one of them.

At the head of the table sat their host, Blingshine.  He was a pegasus, with white fur and a golden mane.  His clothing was much like his property: a garish, overly decorative silk eyesore comprised of clashing colors.  Each limb was bedecked with gold and silver bands; even his wings were decorated with wing bands, chains, and jeweled adornments.  When he stood and smiled at his guests, Emberglow counted at least four false golden teeth.  To Emberglow, it all felt so needless, as if Blingshine felt the need to loudly announce to everypony around him just how wealthy he was, in the most vulgar way possible.

Blingshine wasn’t the only pony at the table; flanking him on either side of his chair were a pair of mares dressed in a sad imitation of Blingshine’s topiaries.  Their flushed faces were caked with makeup, and their eyes were a bit glazed over. Emberglow saw a mostly empty bottle of wine sitting next to Blingshine’s spot, which explained the flushed faces and drunken giggles that bubbled out of the two floozies.

Emberglow did her best to steel her expression at the disgust she felt.  She looked at Blingshine, noting his sharp gaze and knowing smile.

“Welcome to my manor, honored Knights,” he almost bellowed, his bombastic voice filling the space under the canopy.  “Lady Emberglow, what a pleasure to meet you.  Your compatriots have told me so much about you, but their words do not do justice to your beauty.”  He held out a hoof to her.

Emberglow tried not to scowl at the ‘compliment’. It took one glance at Blingshine’s companions to realize just what the pirate governor’s standards of beauty were.  She fixed a plastic smile on her face and reached out to shake his hoof, but had to bite back her surprise when instead of shaking, he leaned down to kiss her hoof, maintaining eye contact the entire time.  The action was surprisingly gentle, though she still shuddered at the touch of his lips on her hoof.  There was a glint in his eyes that let her know he hadn’t missed her reaction.

“Thank you, governor,” she managed politely, extracting her hoof from his as soon as she could without offering insult.

“Please, sit and eat.  Help yourselves to whatever you like.  If there’s something you’d like but you don’t see, let me know and I’ll see if I’ve got any in the larder.”  He laughed as if he’d made some great joke, and his floozies giggled sycophantically.

“We are grateful for the meal you’ve provided, Governor Blingshine,” Turquoise said smoothly.  “Please allow us to say a blessing over the food before we begin.”  He motioned for her to continue, with only a brief flash of annoyance crossing his expression.

Emberglow half expected the sometimes volatile Turquoise to use the opportunity to needle Blingshine, but she merely said a simple, heartfelt prayer over the food before the three Knights took their seats.  The three locals looked uncomfortable, but stayed silent until everypony was seated.

“So!” Blingshine called loudly as Emberglow eyed the garish feast before her, wondering how much she needed to eat to be polite.  “Tell me about our newest Knight.”

“I’m not all that interesting.” Emberglow kept her voice even and polite, just like Turquoise had suggested.  “I only took my vows a month ago. I’ve spent the last few weeks in seclusion and prayer, contemplating my future and pondering on the Book of the Saints.”  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Turquoise smirk in approval.  Emberglow carefully selected some fruits and greens and made herself a simple salad; even if the richer fare was being offered for free, Emberglow still felt uncomfortable taking full advantage of the pirate’s feast.

“That sounds… enlightening.” Blingshine picked up a silver goblet and took a sip of his wine.  “Here, let me pour you some of this vintage.  It’s an absolutely delightful red, and perfectly sweet.”

“Oh, thank you, but could I have water instead?” Emberglow asked blandly.  “Drunkenness is a sin, after all.”  The two simpering mares shuffled uncomfortably, glancing at their own goblets.  Emberglow heard a sound coming from Turquoise that sounded suspiciously like a snort of amusement.

Inwardly, Emberglow was pleased.  Turquoise had suggested that one way of dealing with Blingshine was to be as vague and boring as possible.  A stallion that had so clearly dedicated his life to sin would be utterly uninterested in hearing about her four weeks of prayer, meditation, and solitary study.  So of course she’d find a way to work it into every bit of conversation she could.

“Of course,” Blingshine answered smoothly.  He reached over to a separate carafe and filled her goblet with water.  “The same for the two of you?”

“Yes, please,” Turquoise chimed in cheerfully.  Delver also nodded.  Blingshine plastered on an insincere smile as he filled their goblets, though his attention was mostly on Emberglow.

“You’ll enjoy this, I’m sure,” he said.  “Now, enjoy the feast!”

As the ponies ate, the conversation turned superficial.  Blingshine and the two older Knights exchanged meaningless pleasantries, while Emberglow and Blingshine’s companions listened silently.  Blingshine frequently made conversation with a mouthful of food, and a not insignificant percentage of his wine often spilled onto his shirt or chest.  Emberglow found herself wondering, with no small amount of disgust, how a stallion with such hideous table manners as Blingshine had managed to catch the eye of two mares, clearly many years younger than himself.  She’d read once that some ponies found power attractive, though  it made no sense to her.

Still, while the company was less than ideal, at least the food was appetizing.  Emberglow found herself enjoying her salad despite herself; the greens were fresh, and paired nicely with the crumbly cheese, ripe strawberries, and candied walnuts she mixed on her plate.

“You’ve been quite silent, Lady Emberglow.  Please, I’d love to know more about our newest Knight.”

The possessive phrasing irked her, though Emberglow imagined that was deliberate.  “What would you like to know?” she asked, then cringed inwardly.  She shouldn’t have given him such a broad opening.

“I’d love to know about your background.  What family did you come from?”  There was a small, slightly victorious grin on his muzzle.  Emberglow noted the odd wording of the question; he was clearly assuming she came from some noble family.

“My parents are tailors,” she told him, hoping it would be bland enough to bore him.  Instead his grin became almost vulpine.

“So you’re a sponsorship, then?  A mare of rare talent and luck.  You must be quite exceptional.”

“Not really,” Emberglow said humbly, for once not acting.  “I got where I am because of hard work and hours of study.  If you’re interested in self-improvement, I’d be happy to share my study techniques with you.”

Turquoise suddenly choked loudly, forcing Delver to pound her on the back a few times.  With an embarrassed look, she took a drink of water.  “Sorry,” she rasped.  “Choked on a piece of fruit.”  Emberglow knew her mentor well enough to know she was holding back laughter.  “What do you say, governor?  Interested in learning all about Emberglow’s study techniques?  She’s an apt teacher.”

“Well, I…” Blingshine sat back, an expression of discomfort clear on his face.  “Perhaps if…”

“Oh, I’d really enjoy that,” Emberglow decided to poke just a bit.  “We could use the Book of the Saints as a text, or perhaps Stoic Abstinence’s Meditations on Self-Denial.”

“We’ll have to see,” Blingshine muttered, clearly dismayed at the idea of reading any sort of book written by a pony named Stoic Abstinence.  “It sounds delightful, but really my schedule as governor is quite busy.  And you all will be leaving soon to keep us safe from pirates, after all.”

Emberglow, surprisingly, felt a guilty sort of pleasure from needling the stallion, but she didn’t want to push too hard.  So she simply nodded graciously and returned to her meal in silence.

It seemed, after that exchange, that Blingshine was discouraged enough by her behaviour that he gave up on prodding Emberglow for more information about herself.  He kept the conversation to business after that, focusing his attention more on Delver and Turquoise.  Emberglow, on the other hand, was perfectly fine to fade into the background and wait for the uncomfortable luncheon to end.  

When it was finally time to go, the Knights politely excused themselves for other business.  She felt no small sense of relief when the three of them walked out of the manor and back into the street.  They were barely out of earshot when Turquoise began giggling.

“Stoic Abstinence?” she managed through her laughter.  “You made that up.”

“I didn’t!” Emberglow protested with a smirk.  “He was a real author.  A Knight Adamant philosopher and strategist from about a century after the Siege of Manehatten.”

“Of course you would have read a book like that,” Turquoise teased, and Emberglow mock-scowled at her.

“I’m not that boring.  I’m just familiar with the title, is all.  I figured it would make him uncomfortable.”

“You’re going to want to be careful with that tactic,” Delver warned, seriously.  “Blingshine is a proud stallion.  If he realizes you’re toying with him, we’ll have problems.”

“Did I go too far?” Emberglow was suddenly nervous.

“No, you were perfect.”  Turquoise reassured her with a pat on the back.  “With any luck, our fine governor has now been scared off of any further luncheons or meddling in our business.”

“That’s a relief,” Emberglow nodded.  “So what comes next?”

“Next, we introduce you to our ship’s captain,” Delver said.  “I promise you’ll enjoy this meeting quite a bit more.”


*   *   *   *   *


The actual port part of Port Luminescence was much more than Emberglow had expected as she and the other Knights approached.  The airship port had been small, a mere molehill next to the mountain that was New Canterlot City’s.  The sea port, however, was a veritable forest of masts, draped with rigging rather than vines, and canvas rather than leaves.  Most of the ships were small, single-mast fishing and short range merchant vessels.  There were a few two- and three-mast ships, though, some of which had cannons on deck.  A dozen piers jutted out into the calm ocean waters of the bay, a natural geographic feature created by a long arm of a rocky peninsula jutting out into the ocean.  A single, short lighthouse perched on the tip of the peninsula.  Emberglow could see a dozen ships in motion, coming into or out of the port.

“Do you see that triple masted vessel flying the Diarchy flag?” Turquoise pointed.  “She’s the Lady Elegant.”

The Lady Elegant lived up to her name.  She was clearly a noble lady, with smooth, graceful lines, three tall masts, and portholes in the sides that concealed the presence of six heavy guns.  Two pegasi dressed in naval uniforms flitted about the rigging, adjusting lines and checking knots.  The three Knights stepped onto the deck to find the captain.

When he noticed the Knights aboard his ship, one of the pegasi working in the rigging flew down, landing in front of the Knights.    He was a light stormy grey, with a muted blue mane.  He wore the Diarchy naval uniform, blue and gold, with captain’s epaulets on each shoulder.  “Good afternoon, Sir Delver.”  He reached out and shook Delver’s hoof in greeting.  “How was lunch?”  There was a twist in his voice that suggested he knew exactly where the Knights had had their meal.

“A travesty, Captain Stratus.  Meet our new Knight.  This is Lady Emberglow.”

Emberglow was rather surprised that the captain had been personally checking the ship’s rigging.  The fact that the ship’s captain took such an interest in the minute details of his ship somehow felt gratifying to her, like a master craftsman taking loving care of his tools.  It reminded her of her parents, and the care they took in their shop.

“Welcome, Lady Emberglow.  Let me show you aboard the ship.”  He swept his wing wide to beckon them to follow him.

Though it was being used to hunt pirates for this mission, the Lady Elegant was clearly a cargo vessel.  Oversized earth pony stallions were lifting dozens of crates on board.  Six guns would have been a bit excessive for a cargo vessel, but they were as hidden as they could be. It was a finely drawn balance; the ship had to look attractive enough to be a target for pirates, but dangerous enough so that any approaching buccaneers would not be suspicious of a trap.  The number of cannons didn’t really matter; the true military force on board the ship would be the Knights themselves.

The wooden door underneath the poop deck led to the quarters of the Captain and the Knights.  Space was limited, so even though their quarters were nicer than the sailors’, they would still have to share.  Emberglow was less than thrilled when she realized she would be sharing with Bubblegum.  The sympathetic look that Turquoise gave her said that maybe she hadn’t quite hidden her distaste well enough.  The quarters contained a porthole window, a bunk bed bolted to the wall, and a wardrobe, albeit a small one.  There was also a tiny writing desk and a three-legged stool.

After a quick tour of the decks, the captain showed the Knights to his private dining room, where they met and discussed the plans for their voyage.  There was a table large enough to seat six ponies.  On the starboard side of the Captain’s dining room was a small shrine, consisting of an altar with three pillar candles and an unpainted bass relief of Saint Rarity’s cutie mark.  

“Is this because of the ship’s name?” Emberglow asked the captain, pleased.

“It’s the other way around, actually.  I had a say in her name when they gave me the ship.  I’m one of the Seamstress’ Orphans, Lady Emberglow.  Saint Rarity holds a special place in my heart.”  That was interesting.  Emberglow grinned widely.  

On the table in the Captain’s dining room was an array of sea charts, maps, and other various paperwork.  The three Knights and Captain Stratus sat around the table to discuss the planned voyage.

The round trip could take as long as two months, depending on the weather.  They would set sail from the port, ostensibly carrying a cargo of weapons and armor for the Diarchy forces fighting against zebra guerillas in Zebrica.  Their actual mission, though, was more clandestine. Knight Command had known for months that the dread ‘Black-and-White Beard’ pirate had a source of information inside the military.  Thus, they would treat the voyage like a regular supply run, in an attempt to lure the pirate into attacking them.  If he didn’t make an appearance, they would try again.  Since Black-and-White Beard had hit five ships in the last six months, though, there was a decent likelihood he would attack, especially given the value of their cargo.

Emberglow was glad she hadn’t unpacked her brand new armor, as all four of the Knights would have their armor and weapons hidden aboard Lady Elegant.  Captain Stratus even supplied some civilian clothing and navy uniforms for the Knights to wear until they cast off from Port Luminescence, to further the illusion that this was a standard supply run.  


*   *   *   *   *


“Are you nervous about learning to swim?” Turquoise asked as the four Knights trotted to the next item on the schedule: swimming lessons.

“Um, maybe a little?” Emberglow confessed.  They made their way to a spot on the south end of the bay, set aside for public swimming.  It was already teeming with ponies in swimsuits.  Emberglow tried not to gape at the sheer volume of exposed fur around her.  Ponies pranced about wearing just barely enough to not violate public indecency laws.

“Don’t worry, it’s easy,” Bubblegum chipped in eagerly.  “I picked you out a swimsuit, too.”  For some reason, that statement made her quite a bit more nervous than the actual swimming.  “C’mon, there’s changing rooms over here.”  She led Emberglow over to a squat wooden building, shoving a bag into her hooves before leaving her to change in private.

With a great deal of trepidation, Emberglow opened the bag to reveal a modest, one piece navy blue bathing suit.  She couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.  When she stepped outside the changing room, however, she felt that she might have been right to be nervous; while her suit was conservative, the frilly black two-piece that Bubblegum was prancing about in was just as scandalous as what the locals were wearing.

“Ready to get wet?” Bubblegum asked with a waggle of her eyebrows.  Emberglow merely stared at her, silently, while the other mare grinned irrepressibly.  “C’mon, we’ll jump off the pier,” she said, galloping to the end of the wooden structure.  Emberglow looked out at the waves.  They were small, only two or so feet high, due to the peninsula that protected the port.  To the left of the pier were a few ponies frolicking and goofing around in the shallow water.  There were even some of the bestial races; Port Luminescence had a small population of griffons, zebras, and even a few odd minotaurs.  The deeper waters near the end of the pier, where the Knights were headed, were mostly empty of other creatures.  As Emberglow and the two other Knights walked to the end at a slightly more sedate pace, Delver described as best he could with words the physical motions of swimming.

“The movement comes fairly naturally,” he explained.  “There’s not much to learn.  Being familiar with the motions and with the feel of water will be helpful for you if you ever find yourself accidentally overboard.  Also, do you know any water breathing spells?”

“Of course,” Emberglow answered.  Spellwork and runes were something she excelled at, thanks to hard work, study, and a slightly obsessive personality when it came to her own education and self-improvement.  

“I’d advise you to cast it on yourself as soon as we engage in naval combat,” Delver said.  “If you are wearing full armor, you’ll sink.”

They joined Bubblegum at the end of the pier.  All four Knights lined up, looking out into the ocean.

“So, how do we begin?” Emberglow asked, looking at the two senior Knights.

“Step to the edge of the pier, and look out towards the horizon,” Turquoise said.  She had an odd sort of smirk on her face, but Emberglow thought nothing of it as she did as she was told.  As soon as she felt hooves on her flank, however, she realized two things:

First, she should have suspected the mischievous smirk.

Second, even though the marines might be too in awe of her position as a Knight and a magical healer to engage in hazing, that didn’t mean her fellow Knights would feel the same way.  In fact, it was highly likely they didn’t.

“Surprise!” Bubblegum cheered as she shoved Emberglow over the edge of the pier into the water.  She managed to twist herself in an attempt to dodge the attack, but only managed to flip her body sideways so she entered the water on her side, rather than muzzle first.  

The water was warmer than she expected, though Emberglow wasn’t able to appreciate her first physical contact with the ocean.  She gave out a squeak of shock before clenching her muzzle shut.  Salt from the ocean stung in her nostrils and eyes, and her limbs flailed around in the water for a second or two before she was able to right herself and breach her face above the water.  The first thing she heard was giggling.

Delver was correct; the motion of her hooves paddling through the water was clumsy and a bit panicked, but came naturally.  She was able to stay afloat long enough to clear the saltwater from her eyes and glare up at her tormenters.  She shook her head, her ears pinned back in annoyance as she gave what she hoped was a death glare at Bubblegum.

The youngest of her compatriots had fallen back on her plot, giggling behind a hoof.  Delver was grinning at her as well, and even Turquoise managed to look both amused and guilty at the same time.

“You look like a drowned pink mouse,” Bubblegum said.  “But you’re treading water just fine.  It’s easy, right?”

“I would have liked some warning,” Emberglow groused back.

“Sorry,” Delver said, sounding nothing of the sort.  “It’s kind of become a tradition.  I shoved Bubblegum in when she first got here, years ago.  A month back when Turquoise arrived we did the same thing before she started her lessons.  If we ever get a new pony, you can be the one to shove them in.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Emberglow said grumpily.  Delver shrugged, and Bubblegum cheered.

“That means I get to go again!” she said cheerfully, before stepping back a few paces.  “Watch out!”

The youthful Knight Adamant took off at a gallop, launching herself into the air over Emberglow’s head, who gasped and ducked down as the earth pony passed overhead.  She gracefully rolled into a ball in midair, spinning head over tail until she was face-first towards the water.  Her dive barely made a splash.

“We’re coming in too,” Turquoise warned, before the other two jumped in as well.  Emberglow watched their motions carefully; Delver looked at home in the water, just like his sister Knight, but Turquoise was clearly more cautious and less experienced.  They treaded water until Bubblegum swam over after her acrobatic dive.

Despite the somewhat unexpected start, the swimming lesson turned out to be a lot of fun.  There turned out to be some complications with her wings, though; the sensation of floating in water was oddly similar to being in midair, and Emberglow instinctively wanted to spread her wings and use them to power her through the water.  Wet, waterlogged wings were useless in both air and water, however, so she had to force herself to keep her feathery appendages tight against her barrel.  The other three were earth ponies, so they had been little help on the subject of wings when she'd asked.  Instead, they drilled her in swimming techniques, and taught her how to dive and how to do the ‘dead pony’ float.  Bubblegum even apologized for the shove (miraculously sounding halfway sincere about it) and gave her some practical pointers about fighting in and under the water.  Granted, if there was combat underwater things would have probably already gone catastrophically wrong, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared for the possibility.

They swam laps.  They dove.  There were some underwater sparring lessons, and a few impromptu splash fights instigated by Bubblegum.  The lesson lasted an hour and a half, and Emberglow felt both exhausted and accomplished at the end of it.  

When swimming practice was over, Bubblegum cheerfully volunteered to go collect everypony’s towels.  She vaulted herself up gracefully onto the pier before shaking her wet fur like a dog to shed as much water as possible.  She even stuck her tongue out for effect and then dashed off for the changing rooms, where Emberglow assumed she had left some towels.

There was a shower next to the changing room, which allowed all the ponies to rinse the salt water off their fur.  After they were rinsed and dressed, Delver addressed the Knights.

“We’ll meet for swimming practice every morning before lunch until departure.  After lunch, we’ll work on some sparring and group tactics.  Some of us have never fought as a group before, and I’d like a better idea of our strengths and weaknesses.  For now, though, there is no business or orders until tomorrow.  You all have free time until then.”  Bubblegum squeed, clapping two hooves together before darting off with her usual energy.  Delver sighed, shaking his head.  “I think she has a date with her husband.  Do you two have plans?”

“A half-dozen letters to write home,” Turquoise answered.

“Um…” Emberglow said lamely.  “I suppose I could read.”

“If you like, you can have one of the marines show you around the Port.  I’m sure Sergeant Arrow has given them liberty for the evening as well.  There’s plenty to do in town.  I only ask that you dress as a civilian.  I’d like to keep a bit of a low profile in town when possible.”

Emberglow thought about it for a moment.  It was dangerous, but she was certain of her own self-control.  She nodded.

“That sounds good.  I’ll go see if somepony is available,” Emberglow said.  She already knew which somepony she wanted to take.  The three of them headed back to The Turtle to get changed.

True to his word, Captain Stratus had sent several civilian outfits to The Turtle for the Knights to choose from.  Emberglow found several blouses and skirts in the closet of her room, loose and light like the clothing she’d seen on several other mares throughout town.  

It was odd to consider wearing something other than her robes, but she picked out a crimson blouse, complete with puffy sleeves, and a long black skirt to go with it.  Emberglow was no fashion expert, but she liked to think that she looked good in the ensemble.  She didn’t know much about makeup, but most of the mares she’d seen in the Port had been wearing something, so she went into the washroom near her bedroom.  Fortunately the Captain had also supplied a simple makeup kit.  It took longer than she was pleased to admit, but Emberglow was finally able to apply a light eyeshadow and eyeliner, just enough to show she had made an effort.  On the way out, she ran into Turquoise, who was appropriately shocked.

“Emberglow, is that you?” the Knight Jubilant exclaimed dramatically, teasing the younger mare with a grin.  “I can’t believe I’ve never seen you in normal clothes.  You look good.  Any idea what you’re going to do tonight?”

“Nope,” Emberglow said honestly.  “I was going to take Delver’s advice and see if any of the marines are available to show me what to do for fun in this town.”

“Mostly all the marines do is bar hop,” Turquoise said, sounding bored.  Emberglow grinned.  Though she never had seen the appeal of drunkenness, at least the Radiant didn’t swear an oath of sobriety like the Jubilant did.

“That would be fine.  Though I did want to see if they had a library,” she said.  Turquoise snorted with amusement.

“A library?  Are you sure you’re not secretly a Mystic?  I remember how much time you spent in their library,” Turquoise teased.  “Besides, I’d be nervous to see what a library in a pirate town looked like.”

“You’re probably right,” Emberglow said.  “Still, I’d like to see.”

“You be careful, okay?  This place isn’t like New Canterlot City.  Law and order are more… well, ideals than actual law and order.”

“I’ll make sure to wrangle a marine or two to come with me, don’t worry,” she said, before reaching out with her hooves to hug her mentor.  “You have fun with your letters.”

By herself, Emberglow made her way to the walled compound that contained the barracks.  While she hadn’t felt apprehensive at all on her other trips through Port Luminescence, there was something subtly different when she was by herself.  The town was full of sailors and pirates of all races.  Most ponies ignored her, but it was hard to not notice the interested looks she was drawing from some of the stallions.

Objectively, Emberglow knew she was attractive.  The debacle with Lofty Tale, before they had mended their friendship, was proof of that.  But seeing the looks on the stallions that passed her by made her fur crawl.  Nopony said anything to her, but that didn’t stop the sensation of their gazes drooling across her figure.  She yearned for the comfort of her robes.

Finally she reached the military compound.  The guards outside moved to challenge her as soon as she approached.

“Halt… er… oh, it’s you, Lady Emberglow,” one of the guards said, sliding his spear from a challenge to a resting position.  “Sorry, we didn’t expect to see you dressed in civilian clothing.  Go on in.”

“Do you know if the marines are on liberty tonight?” Emberglow asked.

“Yes, ma’am.  Most of them are out… uh…”

“Drinking?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the guard replied nervously.

“Do you know where I can find Corporal Gearsmith?  Or Private Gadget?” she asked.

“Gearsmith has a dive bar he likes to frequent when he’s in town.  I can tell you the address if you like,” the guard said.  He sounded reluctant to send Emberglow to a pirate town dive bar.  “Gadget is in her workshop.  Let me give you directions.”

Gadget’s workshop was in the basement of the building that housed Emberglow’s office.  Some clever pony had painted a sign on the door that read ‘Welcome to Engineering.  If you touch the tools without permission, you will be shot with extreme prejudice’.  The sign also contained a cartoonish painting of two cheerfully smiling light blue earth ponies, a stallion with black hair and a mare with blonde.  The door was slightly ajar, and the sounds of a hammer on metal echoed from the crack.  Emberglow reached up and knocked on the door, which shook slightly under the force of her hoof.

“Come in, but it better be good!  I’ve just about figured out how to…” the speech stopped as Emberglow pushed the door open and stepped into the workshop.

She had expected organized chaos, the cliché for brilliant engineers.  That was far from the truth, however.  Tools were not in jumbled piles about the room, but instead hung from carefully labeled hooks, dozens of them, bolted into the walls.  There were four worktables, one on each long wall and a short one to the right of the door.  Each one had a table covering made of paper, with a roll of paper bolted next to the table.  Gadget had rolled the paper over the table and used the surface to label each device, each piece of hardware, and each component that was laid out on the various tables.  Everything had an outline on the paper drawn in black marker.  The tables were covered but not cluttered.  Emberglow was utterly fascinated by the hundreds of tiny screws, gears, and mechanisms labeled on the table, though she couldn’t even begin to say what each one was.

Gadget herself sat in a stool, a well-loved padded one with a lever on the side that adjusted the height, and four rolling wheels on the bottom that provided mobility.  She wore a pair of dark goggles that rested uselessly on her forehead, just above her eyes, and a thick apron over her uniform.  She turned to see who was entering, levering off of the desk she sat in front of with one rear hoof, turning by twisting the stool rather than her torso.  She was obviously not expecting to see Emberglow, because she let out a yelp of surprise, nearly falling off her stool as she spun.

“Oh, uh, hi.  Sorry.  Um,” she stood up, brushing metal shavings off of the apron she wore and fidgeting with her goggles for a second before she could gather herself.  “Can I help you, Lady Emberglow?”

“I hope so,” Emberglow said, smiling.  “Sir Delver gave us Knights the night off.  I was hoping there was somepony that could show me what ponies do for fun in this town.”

“Me?” Gadget asked, surprised.  Emberglow nearly laughed.

“If you’re interested,” she replied.  Gadget finally smiled back.

“No offense, but I don’t think you’re ready for this town’s kind of fun, Lady Emberglow,” the marine said.  “I’m sure we could find something that could cater to your fancy, capital city high society tastes, though.”  Emberglow snorted.

“Aren’t you from the capital as well?” Emberglow asked.  Gadget waved a hoof dismissively.

“Doesn’t count.  My hometown is the military, now,” she said.  “So.  Fun, but a safe for Knights fun.  That’s a conundrum.”

“Really?” Emberglow asked, aware she was being teased, but far too amused by the charming mare to be upset about it.  “The only things interesting to do in this town are borderline sinful?”

“Of course not,” Gadget said, seriously.  “Do you drink?”  She stood from her stool, and removed her goggles and apron.  She hung both items from empty hooks on the wall, each one labeled.

“Not much,” Emberglow said honestly.  “I’ve never really seen the appeal in getting drunk.”

“Me neither, but a nice buzz is okay,” Gadget said.  “C’mon.  I know a place you might like.  Do you enjoy music?”

“I think so?” Emberglow answered, and Gadget grinned.  She didn’t take much time to get ready, though she did remove her apron and goggles.  Emberglow didn’t mind; she did have to frantically distract herself when she caught herself thinking about how good the other mare looked in the military’s blue and gold.  With her mind firmly planted on mentally reciting some of her favorite scriptures from the Book of the Saints, (Chapter 6, Verses 12-13: Obey your betters with exactness, for the Saints will not allow them to lead you astray.  If you follow faithfully, you are blameless of their imperfections) she followed after the earth pony to a wood and stucco structure with the brassy sounds of lively music spilling out of the open door and windows.  The music was unfamiliar, up tempo and jazzy, with a soft, pulsing percussion line.  A lit sign over the door named it ‘Live Note’.

The building was a happy medium between shabby and well-kept, which was part of its charm.  The two mares stepped inside.  The first thing Emberglow saw was a stage, the most well-lit part of the bar.  Two earth ponies and a griffon, of all things, stood on stage.  One pony was playing an upright bass, not with a bow but with his hooves, slapping at the strings in a way that created a percussive foundation for the music.  The other earth pony sat on a stool as he played a saxophone.  The griffon sat behind a set of drums, playing his instruments with brushes rather than drumsticks.

The rest of the bar was only under muted light except for the bar, drawing the focus of the patrons onto the stage.  There was mostly ponies in the half full bar, but three griffon hens sat at a table by themselves, sending gazes that could either be predatory or lustful at the drummer on stage.

“C’mon.  Let’s sit at the bar,” Gadget said.  The bartender was a large earth pony, grey and a little shaggy, with a huge beard and moustache.  The two mares sat down on the barstools, and the bartender moved over.

“Evening, Private,” he said.  “How many drinks tonight?”

“Two for me, two for my friend,” Gadget replied.  “A Perfect Pear for me to start, and what would you like to drink?”

“Uh…” Emberglow stared at her friend.  “I have no idea.  I told you I don’t drink much.  You pick.”

“Two Perfect Pears, then,” Gadget said.  She paid the bartender enough bits for four drinks, and the shaggy grey earth pony hustled off to start dusting a pair of coupe glasses with sugar.  Emberglow watched, fascinated.

“You pay for your drinks beforehand?” she asked, curious.  Gadget nodded.

“Yeah.  I told you I don’t like getting drunk, so I have an arrangement with the bartender.  I plan out exactly how many drinks I’m going to have, pay for them all in advance, and instruct the bartender not to sell me any drinks after that.  He also makes sure I drink some water in between each drink, to reduce the risk of hangover.”

“That’s… really sensible and medically sound.” Emberglow was impressed.  “I like it.  So what did I order?”

“Perfect Pear.  One of my favorite drinks.  Pretty sweet and sugary, so I hope you like that.” Gadget said, and Emberglow nodded.  Sweet was fine.  

She watched the bartender squeeze a lemon and an orange into a shaker, added some syrup and some liquid from a bottle labeled 'pear brandy', and then shook it all with some ice.  He poured the liquid into the glasses, sugar sparkling on the rim, before sliding the two stemmed glasses over to the mares.  Emberglow reached out to pick up the glass by the stem, surprised to find that the glass itself was chilled.  She lifted the cocktail to her lips and sipped.  Immediately her tongue came alive with the sugar on the rim, followed by the sweet acidity of the juice and the alcoholic burn of the brandy.  She liked it.

“What do you think?” Gadget asked, sipping on her own cocktail.  Emberglow grinned and nodded, trying not to cough as the burn hit her throat.  Gadget noticed, and giggled.  “Glad you like it.”

The two ponies went silent and listened to the music.  This was a very different experience than listening to the tinny sounds of jazz coming from the speakers of a radio.  Emberglow didn’t have much experience with this kind of music, or any music, for that matter.  There was something raw and unpolished about the playing going on up on stage, and Emberglow didn’t see any sheet music.  She’d heard that most jazz was improvised.  The whole idea was fascinating to her; how could you possibly play music that you’re making up on the spot?  And have it harmonize so well with other musicians?  It was like magic.  No, not like magic.  It was magic, just a different kind than she was used to.  She sipped at her drink while the music filled her ears and her soul.  Gadget looked relaxed and peaceful as well, and though she was faced away from the stage towards the bar, her ears were twisted back towards the music.

“It’s a little surprising to me that you’re a jazz mare,” Emberglow said softly after a few minutes.  Gadget smirked.  “Somepony as detail-oriented and technically minded as you?  I thought you’d be a classical music person.”  It was what Emberglow herself enjoyed.  Classical music was logical.  It was analytical.  It was math and science, translated into pitch, rhythm, and melody.

“I do enjoy big orchestra music sometimes,” Gadget asked.  “There’s just something so wonderful about live music for me.  We’re experiencing not a recording, but a moment in time that will never happen again.  That’s incredible to me.”

“This is what you do for fun, then?” Emberglow asked.

“Sometimes,” Gadget said.  “Sometimes I just fix things, do gun maintenance and upgrades, that sort of thing.  That’s my special talent, after all.”  Emberglow was going to ask about the mare’s cutie mark, but that felt a little too intimate… 

Suddenly, the entire situation felt too intimate.  The bar, the lighting, the warm glow of the alcohol as it slid through her veins, the closeness of the other mare, the endearing messiness of her mane, the cute little flush she had as the alcohol took effect, all made Emberglow uncomfortable.  Was this a date?  Her stomach clenched with fear.

No.

Not a date.

“You okay?” Gadget asked, her hoof on Emberglow’s shoulder.  The sudden contact made Emberglow jerk away, breathing hard.  Her ears twitched nervously, though the sudden hurt she saw on Gadget’s face brought her up short.

“Um, yeah.  Yeah, I am.  Sorry,” Emberglow said.  Gadget’s expression was skeptical, her look pleading for more explanation.  Emberglow shook her head, breathing deeply as her mind sloshed through the swamp of guilt and shame.  What had she been thinking?  What should she do?  Should she leave, and risk insulting her new friend?  What was it about this mare that made her feel like she had no control?

“Do you need to go?” Gadget asked, reaching out with a hoof again but stopping just before contact.  Did she?  She probably should.  She should just tell Gadget why, too.  The other mare would surely understand.

“No.  No, I’ll be fine,” she lied.  Gadget looked worried, but she nodded.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asked.  No, she did not want to talk about it.  Not a chance.  She took another deep, calming breath, burying it all as deep as she could.  She hid it behind her drink, sipping at the fruity, citrusy concoction.  Her ears slid back as she shook her head.  

“No.  I’m sorry.  Just forget it, okay?” she said softly.  Gadget shrugged, looking away, and Emberglow felt like she’d been hit in the gut.  But this was better, right?  Create some distance?  It hurt, though, when she looked at the profile of the mare next to her, turned slightly away, Gadget’s eyes distant and focused away from her, on stage.  The earth pony’s body language was a little chilly.  Emberglow sighed, and reached out with her own hoof to gently rest on the other mare’s shoulder.  Gadget turned to look at her, her expression unreadable.

“Look, I’ve got some drama going on in my head, but it’s nothing to do with you, okay?  It’s not your fault, and I don’t want you feeling bad because of anything I’ve got going on in my own head.  You’ve been a good friend, taking me out tonight like this, and I really appreciate it,” she said.  Gadget nodded, looking mollified, and both mares turned back to listen to the music in silence, the former coolness somewhat evaporated.

Soon enough their drinks were finished, and as Gadget had promised, the bartender brought them both a glass of cool water.  The band on stage rotated out from a trio to a quartet, this time with two saxophones, a trumpet, and a drummer.

“There’s a few different bands that play here,” Gadget commented idly, breaking the silence that had built up between them.  Her voice had just the slightest hint of coolness. “The owner always makes sure the music is live, which sometimes means the quality slips.  But that’s okay.”  Emberglow thought about it, and decided she was right.  The new band began playing, and they perhaps weren’t as good, or as polished, as the trio that had come before them, but it didn’t matter.  The music became a part of the character of the place, as much a part of the atmosphere as the oxygen she was breathing, and the smells of alcohol and ponies.  	

Soon after the second band started, a group of six rowdy earth ponies, dressed in civilian sailor attire, tumbled off the street into the bar, radiating the scent of cheap booze and seawater.  The bartender gave them a sour look, but said nothing as he sent a waiter to their table to take their drink orders.  Emberglow tried to tune them out as she listened to the music.   A moment later, however, the same waiter approached Emberglow and Gadget.

“Excuse me, ladies.  The ‘gentlestallions’ over at that table have offered to buy the both of you drinks, and would like to invite you to join them,” the waiter said, rolling his eyes. Emberglow could practically see the air quotes as he spoke.  

“Wow.  Really?” Gadget giggled.  She looked past the waiter to the drunken sailors, who leered at the two mares and motioned with their hooves for them to come over.  One was even brave enough to call out.

“C’mon, soldier girl!  Don’t you like to party?” he called out.  Gadget shook her head, and Emberglow snorted.

“Do you think it bothers them that they’ve become a walking literary cliché?” Emberglow asked her friend, and Gadget laughed.  “I mean, the whole drunk sailor hitting on cute mares thing.  It’s so silly.”

“Yeah, but let them down easy, okay?” Gadget said to the waiter.  “No sense insulting the idiots, even if a hoof to the face could do them some good.”

“Will do, ma’am,” the waiter said with a small professional smile.  “If they get much rowdier, or won’t take no for an answer, we’ll see them out.”

“I know.  That’s why I like this bar,” Gadget said as the waiter moved off to politely refuse the offer of drinks.  The sailors protested loudly, but didn’t say anything else to the mares, though Emberglow heard some suspicious invectives that rhymed with ‘stitch’ and ‘punt’. 

 It was easy enough to ignore, however, especially when the bartender came to ask for their second drink order.  Gadget asked for the same drink with a shrug and a smile, and Emberglow asked for the bartender’s recommendation.  The shaggy earth pony grinned and trotted away; apparently that had been the right thing to ask.  She watched, interested, as he pulled out a hammered brass mug, added some ice, and poured a shot glass full of clear alcohol over the ice.  He then popped open a bottle of something carbonated, mixed it with the ice and alcohol, and garnished the whole thing with a lime wedge.

“This is called a Stalliongrad Mule,” he told her.  “What do you think?”

Emberglow sipped the cold drink carefully.  it was sweet, and she could just taste the alcohol over the flavors of lime and ginger.  Her eyes went wide when she felt the spice hit the back of her throat.

“It’s spicy!” she exclaimed out loud.  Gadget smiled in amusement.

“Too much?” the bartender asked.

“No, I like it.”  Emberglow went back for another sip, enjoying the play of the sweet, tart, and spicy flavors, all carried on the bubbly carbonation of the drink.  She shared a smile with Gadget.  “I think you might have another regular customer.”  The bartender smirked as he went to take care of his other customers.

The two mares relaxed into a comfortably superficial conversation as they felt the glow of the alcohol fill them.  Emberglow asked Gadget about her work, and about the other adventures she’d had hunting pirates around the Port.  The earlier awkwardness was casting the slightest chill over their evening, and Emberglow found herself mourning the distance that now grew between them, even while feeling relieved at the safety.

The hour disappeared before either one of them knew it, and both their second drink and their second glass of cool water had disappeared in no time.  Even the drunk pirates had left finally, with a few scornful looks at the two mares.  Emberglow and Gadget were preparing to leave, saying their goodbyes and leaving an extra tip for the bartender when a soft voice interrupted them from behind.  

“I am sorry to bother you ponies,” the lightly accented voice said, and the two of them turned to see the same griffon who had been playing the drums in the first band.  Emberglow eyed him suspiciously.  “I wished to pass on a warning.  After my set on stage, I joined the audience.  I’m afraid I may have overheard a conversation between some ponies that may intend you harm.”

“What?” Emberglow asked dangerously, leaning towards the griffon threateningly.  Griffons were violent, bestial creatures, after all.  She had to be careful.  “What are you talking about?”

“The drunken ship ponies seemed rather upset at rejection, but they knew they’d get kicked out.  Unless their drunken boasts were just that, I believe they might intend the two of you harm.”

“What’s your angle, then?” Emberglow asked warily, and the griffon shrugged.

“No angle.  I just thought you should know.  Do with that what you will,” he said with a shrug of his wings.  He turned to leave, and Emberglow called out.

“Wait!” she said, and the griffon looked over his shoulder.  “Thanks, I guess,” she said.  The griffon shrugged again, walking out the open door and taking wing into the night.

“Would you like me to summon the constables?” the bartender asked.  Emberglow shook her head.

“We can defend ourselves,” she said simply.  Gadget nodded.

“Your friend is a marine too?” he asked.  Emberglow nearly laughed.

“Something like that,” she said.  “I can fight if I need to.”  If she weren’t a match for a few drunken sailors, what kind of Knight was she?

“Okay, if you insist,” the stallion said, clearly not reassured.

The two mares stepped out into the street.  The sun was set, and the soft dirt of the street was illuminated by a half moon and a sprinkling of gas powered lamps on posts spaced throughout the neighborhood.  Very few ponies or other creatures were out and about.

“Perfect night for an ambush, don’t you think?” Gadget asked conversationally.  Emberglow laughed.

“Perfect,” she replied.  “So you believe the griffon?”

“Can’t hurt to be prepared,” Gadget shrugged.  “Besides, beating the crap out of some idiot drunk stallions would be the perfect icing on the cake at the end of a great day.”  Emberglow tried to ignore the thrill she felt in her heart when the other mare said the day had been great, instead focusing on the nervous waver in Gadget’s voice.  She had to remind herself that Gadget wasn’t a Knight like she was, and though she might have more experience, Emberglow had better training and magical enhancements.  “Where to?”

“I’ll walk you back to the barracks, then fly home to The Turtle.  None of the idiots were pegasi, so I’ll be fine.  I just want to make sure you’re safe first.”

“Aw, thanks,” Gadget gushed in a silly voice, causing both mares to giggle as they trotted towards the barracks.  It was only a few blocks before the telltale sounds of somepony following behind echoed in their ears.

“Really?” Emberglow whispered.  “Are they really that stupid?”

“Some ponies just don’t like to hear ‘no’,” Gadget replied.  “What’s the plan?”

“If you can keep everypony off my back, I should be fine.  I’ll focus on taking down individuals as quickly as possible to even the odds, so the most help you can be is to keep them from swarming me.  If you see an exit, take it and run.  If you’re clear, I can get airborne.”

“Okay,” Gadget said, psyching herself up.  “Okay,” she repeated.  “We got this.  Sorry, Lady Emberglow.  I don’t think I’ve ever been in a fight without my dad.”  The uneven hoofsteps behind them were closing in, and as the two mares approached the next block they saw three of the sailor ponies up ahead, waiting at a street corner.

“Let’s give them an out, shall we?” Emberglow asked.  “Last chance to make a good choice, stallions.”  She crossed the street casually, with Gadget following.  The three sailors crossed as well to intercept them.

“Hey!  Hey you mares!  Still don’t want to party with us?” one of them called out, laughing, his voice slurred with intoxication.  Emberglow flinched with annoyance; at least one of the ponies ahead had a weapon, a long, thick club held casually against his shoulder in one hoof.

“Pretty sure we already answered that question,” Emberglow called out with more confidence than she felt.  Her hooves felt full of nervous energy, her wings twitching to spread out and launch her into the air.  Fight or flight indeed, she thought.  But there was no way she was going to take to the air while her companion was earthbound.

“We was hoping you’d reconsider,” the shouter slurred.  He was a purple earth pony, with the bulging muscles of somepony who lifted heavy things for a living.

“Not a chance,” Emberglow replied, still a ways off.  “You’re making a mistake, sir.  Last chance to pull out and save yourself some broken bones.”  Even before the threat left her lips, she knew he wouldn’t back down.  The other stallions laughed, a sound that was joined by the hoofsteps and laughter from behind as the other three closed the trap around the mares.  Emberglow flared out her wings, and Gadget gasped.

“Gonna run, and leave us alone with that sweet treat?” the leader asked with a leer, and Emberglow lunged, using her wings to push herself forwards with a burst of force.  She lamented the lack of her rune gauntlet or her armor, but regret was worthless.  Her dash took her not to the leader, but to his side, right next to the pony with the club.  He spun his weapon around with a surprised curse, but Emberglow planted her front hooves, letting her momentum spin her body around so that her back hooves were lined up for a powerful buck.  She coiled her forehooves and thrust out with all the force her magically enhanced body could muster, impacting the pony in the chest just as his club began to descend against her unprotected flanks.  The stallion let out an ‘oof’, dropping the club as he sprawled sideways onto the dirt street.  The whole maneuver was not nearly as graceful as Emberglow had intended, slowed by her own slight alcoholic impairment, but from the crunch of the impact and the whimper of pain, she knew she’d probably reduced her foes from six to five.

She stumbled a bit, taking a precious second to regain balance and to regret her second drink as the other ponies came to their senses and began to close in on her.  She spun to face the leader, the huge purple earth pony who had spoken, just as Gadget sidled up to her flank, facing the three coming from behind.

“What do you…” the purple sailor began, stepping towards her menacingly.  Emberglow might not look it, but she knew her enhancements made her stronger than nearly all unenhanced earth ponies.  Still, the wall of muscle in front of her would take a bit to go down, so she couldn’t simply use a brute force buck like she did on his club-wielding flunky.  With another flap of her wings, she lunged at him, trying to keep her momentum and the element of surprise as long as she could.  But instead of a tackle or another buck, Emberglow had another target in mind.

The story of a fight is written by the pony that wins the fight, echoed Lady Amaranth’s voice in her head.  You may have read foals tales about honor duels, one on one challenges, and stuff like that.  That’s not what a real battle is.  Your goal is to win and live, and protect anypony innocent.  Anything you need to do to accomplish that is fair game.  Emberglow went low, sliding her hooves in the loose dirt and throwing a cloud up at the surprised purple stallion.  He coughed and spat, flailing out wildly with his front hooves, landing one lucky glancing blow just below Emberglow’s left ear.  She ignored the pain; it was mild.  Her hoof lashed out and caught the flailing stallion right on the jaw.

It felt like she was punching a wall.  She’d been hoping for a crunch of bone, but got nothing more than a stumble and a curse of pain from the earth pony as he backed away from her.  His other flunky recovered his wits and dashed in to help the big purple stallion.  This sailor was green, and had an eyepatch.  He reared up, intending to stomp down on Emberglow just as she was striking at his leader.  She barely managed to roll out of the way, his hooves slamming into the dirt as she rolled onto her side out of reach.  The slight buzz she had managed from her two drinks was managing to slow her down enough to make her regret not taking the bartender up on his offer to fetch the police.

“Emberglow?  They’ve got knives!” Gadget called out, sounding worried.  Emberglow spared a glance.  Sure enough, two of the ponies rushing them from behind carried short knives in their teeth.  Emberglow was grateful there was no magic or unicorns or even pegasi to worry about in this fight, but the presence of blades was troubling.  She’d have to be careful.

“Think I can fly you out of here?” she asked jokingly, and Gadget snorted.

“That a crack about my weight?” Gadget asked as she dodged the first clumsy slash of a sailor’s blade.  The sailor Emberglow had just dodged lunged at her in a full tackle, his forehooves spread wide to try and grapple her.  She couldn’t roll out of the way in time, and the muscled sailor’s hooves wrapped around her in a crushing, violent hug.

This was by far much closer to a drunk, sweaty stallion than she had ever wanted to get.  His breath was hot against her neck as he tried to bite at her face, an action she rewarded with a swift head butt to the jaw. It hurt like Tartarus, a sharp sting against her forehead where she had impacted with one of his teeth, but his hooves loosened enough for her to get her own hooves free, and slam them both into his dazed face.

A sharp cry of pain from Gadget drew Emberglow’s attention.  A narrow gash of red sliced through the foreleg of Gadget’s uniform.  The cut looked shallow, but as Gadget tried to back away she was favoring her wounded leg.  Emberglow gave one last quick punch to the stallion she’d just knocked off her, right to his head, before spreading her wings and launching herself into the air.

It wasn’t true flight, just a wing-assisted leap nearly two pony lengths into the air.  She descended on the pony that had just cut Gadget.  He yelped in surprise as she dropped, angling his blade upwards just as she landed hooves first on his back and head.  She felt the burn of the cut as he sliced along the underside of her barrel, the blade going deeper than she had hoped.  At least the color of her blouse will hide the bleeding.  

Both of them fell in a tumble of tangled limbs.  Emberglow tried to free herself, but the earth pony had ended up partially on top of one of her hind hooves.  She tried to jerk it free as two more sailors, one with a knife, approached from behind.  She only had a second’s warning and Gadget’s scream of dismay as she tried to spin away from the attacking ponies.

Their salvation came with near complete silence, and absolutely no warning.  In one moment, a pony with a knife was about to introduce her innards to the night air.  In the next moment, he was sprawled on the ground, moaning, his knife dropped and his hooves wrapped around his broken ribs.  Out of nowhere, a cream colored blur had galloped, head first, into the knife wielding sailor.  The surprise new combatant was also in the dirt on the ground, also moaning in pain as she clutched her head.

“Bubblegum!” Emberglow cried out, too pleased at the rescue to be annoyed at Bubblegum’s presence.  “What are you wearing?”

It was a pretty lame thing to ask in the middle of a fight, but it was probably a valid question.  The mare’s outfit was, in a word, impractical.  Black velvet covered the mare from head to the tips of her forehooves, capped with the frilliest of curly white lace.  A voluminous skirt, ruffled and also lined with just as much white lace, was now getting caked in the dirt that filled the road.  The skirt itself was held up with a bustle, a fact that Emberglow realized only because Bubblegum’s silly maneuver had cracked the wood, which now hung awkwardly around her flanks.  The whole ensemble was topped by a miniature hat, pinned into Bubblegum’s mane because it was far too small to be worn normally.

Emberglow finally managed to roll the slumped pony off her leg.  The remaining thugs were now circling to assess this new threat, moving slowly and clumsily.  Bubblegum managed to stumble to her hooves, reaching up to her mane and removing her hat pin.  The beautiful black hat, decorated with white flowers, drifted into the dirt as Bubblegum brandished the long, sharp hat pin at the large purple earth pony sailor.  The cream colored mare’s face split in a snarl, her teeth clenched in rage.

“This way, officers.  They’re assaulting some mares over here!” a stallion’s voice called out overhead.  Emberglow looked up to see the dark form of Wind Storm, Bubblegum’s husband, flying above them.  The two sailors that still stood looked up, panicked, and galloped off down the street.  Neither one bothered to assist their fellows, though each one eventually stumbled to his hooves and followed after their cowardly friends.  Wind Storm called out a few more times, following after the stallions.

“Officers?” Emberglow asked, when nopony showed up to Wind Storm’s calls.  Bubblegum grinned.

“Bluff,” she said, stumbling over to where Emberglow stood.  Her gait was unsteady, and as the other Knight leaned in to inspect Emberglow’s wound, Emberglow realized it was more than the head injury she’d probably given herself with her ridiculous maneuver.  Bubblegum reeked of alcohol.  She tried to push the drunk mare away as Bubblegum nosed at her side, trying to better inspect Emberglow’s wound.

“I’m fine, check on Gadget,” Emberglow insisted, but the drunk Knight Adamant growled and shoved Emberglow onto her plot.

“Windy?” she called out.  “Windy, can you find a doctor?”  Bubblegum looked at Emberglow and giggled drunkenly.  “I mean a different doctor than this doctor.  A not this doctor doctor.”  

“I told you, I’m not…” Emberglow began, but with a sly grin, Bubblegum poked at the wet spot on Emberglow’s crimson blouse.  Emberglow hissed in pain, leading Bubblegum to nod sagely.  Fumbling a bit, the Adamant ripped open the blouse, ignoring Emberglow’s protests to reveal a deep, bleeding wound.  Bubblegum looked around, her gaze shifting from her own dress, to Emberglow’s simpler skirt.  With a shrug, she took up one of the sailor’s discarded knives and began cutting strips off of Emberglow’s skirt.

“What are you… oh,” Emberglow began.  She was feeling a bit lightheaded, and not just from her residual buzz.  She watched Bubblegum’s fumbling motions as she tore enough of Emberglow’s skirt in order to create a compress.

“Hold that there,” she said gently, her voice slurring.  Emberglow complied, nodding silently, a bit surprised that the drunken mare seemed to know anything at all about first aid.  Gadget moved over, her face worried.  She was limping, but her wound was not even bleeding, though the sleeve of her uniform was wet.  “Windy!” she shouted again.  The pegasus stallion landed nearby.

“Sorry.  I was just making sure they didn’t loop back around,” he said.  “Everything okay?”  He didn’t sound nearly as drunk as Bubblegum.

“We need a doctor,” Bubblegum said.  “I don’t know heal spells, and I don’t have my rune gauntlet anyways.”

“Turquoise knows some,” Emberglow gasped.  Now that the adrenaline was receding, she was really feeling the slice in her barrel.  “She’ll be quicker.  She’s back at The Turtle, writing letters.”

“On it,” Wind Storm said, and with a spring of his legs, he launched himself into the air.

“You do this,” Bubblegum said to Gadget, motioning at her hooves holding the compress on Emberglow’s wound.  “I’m all wobbly.”

“I can see that, Lady Bubblegum,” Gadget said wryly, and she moved up to the other mare to take her place holding the compress on the knife wound.  

“Heh.  I saved you both,” Bubblegum said, grinning widely.  “Saved you in the middle of your date.”  Emberglow and Gadget found each other’s gaze.  Emberglow was sure that her expression was just as terrified as Gadget’s.

“It wasn’t a date,” she asserted with a wince, and Gadget nodded.

“Told you I don’t care,” Bubblegum said as she tried to sit down in the road.  She realized her now broken bustle was in the way, and with a grunt of annoyance, managed to rip the entire ensemble, cloth and structure and all, off of her dress completely.  She didn’t seem to care that it exposed an indecent amount of pale fur, fishnet stockings, and even the hints of whatever lacy black underthings she had on underneath.  Once that was settled, she curled her legs underneath her and rested her head on the ground.  “Wake me up if you need me.”

A few minutes later Turquoise arrived at a gallop, with Wind Storm close behind.  She wasn’t wearing her armor, but had put on just the rune gauntlet and power supply.

“What in Tartarus happened here?” she cried out.  Bubblegum let out a loud snore as response.

“We were attacked by some drunken thugs, Lady Turquoise.  We thought we could fight them off, but there were a few too many.  Emberglow could have just taken off flying if I hadn’t…”

“Oh, hush,” Turquoise said, holding a hoof up to Gadget’s lips.  “I’ll take care of this.”  Gadget and Emberglow both watched with interest as Turquoise cast the complex runes of one of the most basic healing spells.  It wouldn’t replace any of the lost blood, but it would seal the wound.  “Move out of the way, please.”  She worded it politely, but it was an order nonetheless.  Gadget took her hooves away, and blood oozed from the cloth compress.

It was rare for Emberglow to be on the other end of a healing spell.  She watched as Turquoise skillfully drew the runes in the air, her hoof trailing glowing greenish light.  It hurt her pride a bit, maybe, to be healed by another pony, especially one who might not be as naturally talented as she was, but Emberglow was in no condition to doctor herself.  Besides, healing spells never worked on the pony who was casting them.  

She relaxed as she felt the healing magic fill her wound.  It was an uncomfortable tingle, an itch that burned around the wound as her flesh re-knit itself in seconds rather than weeks.  She let out a gasp of discomfort and pain, but she knew enough about her own business to not try and touch or clutch at her wound.  Turquoise might not be as skilled as she at healing spells, but the Knight Jubilant knew what she was doing.  The older mare touched her hoof gently along the wound, and Emberglow felt the acid sting of healing magic as it slid deep, mending tissue much farther in than the surface.  Emberglow tried to breathe deeply, remembering her training: a simple healing only took as long as three deep breaths.  It felt longer as the pain knifed in her side.

“Done,” Turquoise said, smiling gently.  “Now would somepony tell me what the buck happened in a little bit more detail this time?”

Gadget looked terrified, nervously glancing at Turquoise, and Bubblegum was still drooling into the dirt.  Wind Storm shrugged, looking at Emberglow.  She sighed and told the story from the beginning, leaving out the bits about her paralyzing guilt and near anxiety attack.  It didn’t feel good to share the entire story; Emberglow burned with new guilt.  It was her fault that Gadget had been in danger.  She had overestimated her own strength, her own capabilities.

“We should have taken the barkeep’s offer,” Emberglow confessed.  “I was the one who decided we could take six drunk idiots.  All this is my fault.”  Turquoise eyed her critically, and Emberglow found herself shrinking under her former mentor’s gaze.  “Gadget, I’m so sorry.”

“But…” Gadget began, and Turquoise held up a hoof again.  Gadget stepped back, respectfully nodding her head to the Knight.

“You’re not completely wrong to blame yourself for your overconfidence,” Turquoise said slowly.  “But you remember what Lady Dash said after her failure to stop the breaking dam?”

“Share your victories with your friends, and lean on them in your weakness.  Your friends will show you how to turn failure into strength,” Emberglow quoted automatically.  Turquoise nodded.

“You made a mistake, but can you learn from it?” Turquoise asked.  “Did you ever read Garnet Passion’s treatise on combat tactics?”

“No,” Emberglow said, mentally filing away the author’s name for future perusal.

“The best battle is one that never happens.  If you can afford to avoid a confrontation, you should,” Turquoise quoted.  Emberglow hung her head, her ears drooping in shame.  “C’mon, none of that.  Learn from your mistakes, and lean on your friends for strength.”  She pulled Emberglow to her hooves, patting her gently on the back.  “Literally, in this case.  Lean on me until we get home.  Wind Storm, can you see to your wife?  I’m not sure I really want to leave you both alone out here.”

“She’s just dozing,” Wind Storm said.  “One sec.”  He shook his wife, whose eyes jerked wide as she tried to stand in a single motion, tumbling back to the dirt when the sudden movement unbalanced her.

“Ow.  Everybody okay?” Bubblegum muttered.

“She’ll be fine,” Wind Storm said.  “I’ll get her home.  You all be safe,” he said.

“Thanks, Wind Storm,” Emberglow said.  “Hey, how did you two know we were in trouble?”

“Just happened by,” Bubblegum said unsteadily.  “Heard a fight.  Wanted in.  You just got lucky.”  She grinned at her husband.  “Or not.  I’m gonna get lucky.”  Wind Storm blushed, but he didn’t deny the drunken assertion.  Turquoise rolled her eyes at the Knight Adamant’s antics.

“We’ll walk Gadget back to the barracks,” Emberglow said.  “You’re good to walk?”

“Slowly, yes,” Gadget said.

“Here, let me,” Turquoise said, moving over to the marine and casting a second healing spell.  Gadget tensed, but made no sound as the sensations of healing flowed through her wound.  She had clearly experienced magical healing before.

The walk back to the barracks was quiet.  Emberglow still burned with embarrassment under the shame of her mistake, but leaned against her Knight with resigned weariness.  Gadget was quiet, uncomfortable and unwilling to speak up with the other Knight there.  This left Turquoise to fill the silence, something she did with all the talent and skill of a trained diplomat.  The conversation was light and gentle, though nearly completely one sided, as Gadget remained silent and Emberglow gave exhausted, one word or phrase answers.  Finally, they reached the barracks, and Turquoise dismissed Gadget with specific orders to inform Sergeant Arrow what had happened, and that Gadget would be on light duty until the ship departed in a few days.

“None of this is on you, private,” Turquoise said.  “If Sergeant Arrow has any questions, she can come see me.  You did nothing wrong, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gadget said uncomfortably, before disappearing into the barracks.  The two Knights watched her go.

“She did nothing wrong,” Emberglow repeated, her words heavy with implication.

“Stop it.  Now.  I won’t have you drowning in some stupid guilt spiral.  You bucked up, but there was no permanent harm done, and you can learn from it.  Now, let’s go home.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow said, echoing Gadget, and the two ponies walked off towards The Turtle.
> Chapter 13
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 13


Letter, sent from Knight Private Emberglow to Knight Lieutenant Lofty Tale

	Lofty,

	Tomorrow we shove off (that’s a sailing term that means we’re leaving on a ship) to go pirate hunting.  I can’t tell you where we’re going (classified and all that) but you probably won’t be getting any letters from me for a few months, at least.  Please don’t be alarmed if you don’t hear from me for a while.  I will write again as soon as I am able.

	Port Luminescence has been a strange experience for me.  It is a den of sin and iniquity.  Prostitutes blatantly ply their wares on the street corners, and drunken ponies wander the streets, which are made of dirt and mud, not paved.  I am told that illicit drugs are readily available for purchase, and the law enforcement officers are complicit in the trade of both intoxicants and sex.  Those in charge are either part of the problem or impotent.

	At the same time, paradoxically, ponies seem happy.  I don’t understand.  

I am told that those with deviant ideas and behaviors come to towns like this as a haven from the judgement and punishment that might otherwise fall upon their heads.  The other day I saw two stallions kissing.  Kissing!  In public!  At least other aberrant behavior, such as bestiality, is punished severely.  The whores at least know to keep their business to their own races, though there are enough of the deviant creatures to cater to each race that lives in town.  I asked Turquoise yesterday what would happen if somepony bothered to arrest one of the prostitutes.  The answer was disappointing; apparently most of the sex workers in town avoid prosecution by offering their services for free to the arresting officers.  There is a sickening fairness to the process; the whores take turns on who will ‘satisfy’ the vice officers each evening, so that nopony has to miss out on too much profit.

I have to confess that I was wounded a few days ago.  Nothing severe; I merely overestimated my own capabilities in the face of some thugs that didn’t want to take no for an answer.  I will save you the gory details; the fight ended with several fleeing drunks and a bleeding hole in my side.  Turquoise fixed me up just fine, and I’m well healed; the only lasting wound was to my pride, both from my mistake at overestimating my own power and by the fact that I was rescued by that frustrating mare I told you about in my last letter.  Please don’t mention my wound if you speak with my parents; I am going to be omitting that detail when I write my mother.  You know how she worries.  I might tell her all the stories when I’m home, safe, in her living room.

Congratulations on your promotion.  I am so proud of you, and was so excited to be able to mail this letter to a Knight Lieutenant.  Does this mean you get to be an investigator?  If so, it sounds nearly as exciting as hunting pirates (I kid).  Be safe, and I will write you as soon as I get back from my voyage.  

Love, your friend,

Emberglow

1112 AF, South Diarchy Seas

Watching the sun rise over the twinkling waves was an experience Emberglow would never get tired of.  Standing on the deck of Lady Elegant as the sky began to glow, Emberglow was struck with both amazement as the very air and clouds above her became her namesake, glowing orange and pink just like the embers of a fire.  The ocean, a mirror of dancing jewels, soon became too bright to look at.  She did her best to stay out of the sailors' ways as the pony crew did their tasks, her eyes fixed on the rainbow of colors that sparkled before her.

“Lady Emberglow.  Anything you need?” a stallion said behind her.  Emberglow turned to see the captain behind her, his wings spread out to feel the sea breeze flowing underneath.  He saw her gaze and smirked.  “Old sea pegasus trick.  If the wings feel like they’re moving, the body catches up quicker.  If I keep my wings spread as much as I can, I become accustomed to the motion of the waves more quickly.  Thus, less seasickness.”

“Got it,” Emberglow said, spreading out her wings and fluffing her feathers.  “I’ve just planned on taking seasickness pills until I acclimate,” she admitted with a laugh.

“The other pegasus trick is to simply take wing,” he replied with a grin.  “Doesn’t help you acclimate, but it does deal with the immediate symptoms.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Emberglow said.  “It hasn’t hit me yet, though.”  She looked back at the waves, which were small; the wind was gentle, and the waves barely rocked the large ship.

“I see you noticed the sunrise,” he said.  “Talk to Rope Trick, our pony in the crow’s nest.  He might let you watch tomorrow’s sunrise from up there.  It’s amazing how much of a difference a few dozen yards makes.”

“I’ll do that.  Thanks, captain,” Emberglow said.  She stayed on deck as long as her conscience would allow her to.  While it was settling for her roiling stomach, she had other responsibilities than seeing to her own comfort.  Reluctantly, she took a deep breath and headed below decks to the galley.

“Good morning, Tangerine!” she called out cheerfully as she trotted into the small galley.  The ship’s mess officer, Tangerine, had her back to Emberglow, and was standing over a large, bubbling stockpot.

“Too cheerful!” Tangerine spat, without turning to look.  Emberglow giggled.  After two weeks at sea, she’d finally learned that the gruff navy mare was really just an adorable grandma pony underneath her tough sailor exterior.  “Coffee’s not done, so you’re not allowed to be this happy!”

“Need any help?” Emberglow asked as she moved over to the wrinkled sailor.  Tangerine spared her a grateful glance and motioned to a cutting board on a nearby table.  There was a large pile of dried strawberries on top.

“Strawberry porridge?”  Emberglow asked.

“Good source of ascorbic acid,” Tangerine said.  “Chop ‘em up for me so they release their flavor better.”  Emberglow nodded and went to work.

Emberglow loved the time she spent in the galley, even though it often made her seasickness worse.  Tangerine was a wealth of practical information and salty sailor anecdotes, at least after she’d had her coffee.  Their first meeting had been awkward; Emberglow, as a Knight, was technically the highest ranking medical officer onboard Lady Elegant and thus in charge of the health and nutrition of both sailors and marines, but Tangerine was far more experienced in the practical realities of ship life.  It had taken several days for Emberglow to make the crusty old sailor mare understand that Emberglow was no threat to her position or her experienced authority.

“Here,” Tangerine grunted, sliding a mug over to Emberglow.  She could smell the sharp tang of lemon and bergamot.  While it had been tragically heartbreaking to give up her morning coffee, tea simply settled her stomach much better.

“You are a blessing from the Saints,” Emberglow moaned as she sipped at the hot liquid.  Tangerine’s facade of gruffness cracked long enough for a laugh.  “Thank you.”

Emberglow finished her task and was dumping the strawberries into the large porridge pot when a cry echoed down from above decks.  After a few weeks on board, Emberglow was growing used to recognizing Rope Trick’s shouts.  Tangerine and Emberglow shared a look, and Emberglow nodded and dashed out of the galley.  Her duties as a Knight superseded her job helping Tangerine oversee the health of the sailors.

Once on deck, she sought out Delver, who was standing by the ship’s rail and looking off into the horizon with the captain.

“What did Rope Trick see?” Emberglow asked.

“Another ship,” Delver said.

“Pirates?” Emberglow felt a surge of excitement.

“No. A derelict, barely floating,” Captain Stratus said.  “We’re going to draw closer to check it out.  I was going to ask Feldspar to fly over and take a look.”  Feldspar was the only pegasus on Lady Elegant’s crew.  “Do you mind going with him, Lady Emberglow?”  In response, Emberglow nodded and spread her wings.

There was a grim silence among the sailors as they approached the wrecked vessel.  It became clear as they grew closer that there was no life on the shattered ship’s corpse.  Soon enough the ship was close enough to make out a few brightly colored spots among the charred and broken wood; pony bodies, most still dressed in Diarchy naval uniforms, sprawled out like broken toys discarded by a negligent toddler.  Emberglow felt the bile rise in her throat.

“Feldspar, Lady Emberglow is going to join you,” Captain Stratus said to the brown pegasus that flapped over.  “I need the two of you to see if you can figure out what happened.  Take a pencil and a scroll; try to write down the cutie marks of any of the deceased.”

“Why would we…” Emberglow began, then swallowed and shook her head, horrified. “Right…”

“You ready, Lady Emberglow?” Feldspar asked deferentially after Captain Stratus gave Emberglow a pencil and a scroll.  Emberglow swallowed and nodded, trying to keep her nausea in check.  It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen dead bodies before; she’d dissected corpses back in medical school, after all.  But the cadavers in school had died of age or disease, not murder on the high seas.  They’d smelled of formaldehyde, not the sickly sweet stench that she could already…

“One moment,” Emberglow yelped in panic, lunging over to the railing just in time to expel the tea she’d managed to drink, as well as whatever was left in her stomach from last night’s meal.  None of the other ponies said anything, and Feldspar politely waited for her to finish.  After a few painful, stomach-cramping moments, she finally nodded to him, and the two pegasi took to the air, though Emberlgow wobbled slightly as she flew over to the wrecked ship.

“Can you see a name?” Feldspar called out.  Emberglow shook her head.  There was no figurehead, either, nor was there anything else to identify the ship.  It was a smaller vessel, a single master, though the mast in question was shattered at its base and toppled onto the ship’s deck.  Snapped stays and lines spread out over the charred deck like the limp noodles.  What remained of the sails was scraps of charred canvas, and among the rubble were a dozen corpses.

The pegasi landed on the deck of the ship, which shifted drunkenly on the waves.  Emberglow steeled herself to look around at the remains of the sailors around her.

“If you want, I can help to identify the sailors,” Feldspar said.  “You just write down what I tell you, okay?”

Suddenly Emberglow burned with shame.  This was her job, not his.  She was the medical officer here.  The sailor’s protective instinct was well-meaning, but she had to handle this herself.

“No, it’s my job,” she forced out.  “You look around, see if you can tell what happened.  Maybe see if there’s any salvage worth having?”  Her hooves were shaking as she carefully approached the first corpse, an earth pony stallion splashed with dried blood.  She breathed shallowly through her nose, losing her thoughts in her training as she examined the body.

The death had happened only a few days ago, given the state of decay.  Cause of death was most likely the smattering of bullet wounds across his chest and barrel.  She managed to peel back his uniform pants enough to note down his cutie mark, which was a dolphin breaching above a rough sea.  She pulled out the scroll and noted a quick description of his cutie mark and his colors, to report back to the military so they could inform his family.

After the first, the next few identifications became easier, if only because they became rote.  Emberglow found herself clinging to the objective distance her medical school teachers had once spoken about between a doctor and their patient.  A small part of her hated becoming numb to her task, but she reminded herself it was necessary to perform this last service for her patients.

Meanwhile, Feldspar searched what was left of the ship, returning to report sadly to Emberglow that there was nothing worth salvaging.  A storm, or even a few really tall waves, would probably break up the ship enough for it to finally finish sinking, and all the supplies had been looted.  Eventually Emberglow agreed to let him finish identifying the rest of the bodies, before the two pegasi took to the air and flew back to Lady Elegant.

“Thank you for doing that, Lady Emberglow,” Captain Stratus said with a salute when she landed on deck.  “The families of those who died here will appreciate having some closure, thanks to you.”  Emberglow accepted his gratitude, but secretly she wanted nothing more than to go hide in her cabin for the next few hours.

For the next few days after Lady Elegant found the wreckage left by the pirates there was a somber gloom, only lifted when Captain Stratus finally ordered an extra two casks of rum cracked open for the entire crew.  They drank to the unnamed ship that night.

Three weeks out of Port Luminescence Lady Elegant ran into her first storm.  Emberglow was a bit disappointed that all of the non-sailors were banished to their quarters, but it made sense.  Emberglow didn’t realize the full extent of the horror, however, until she retreated to her quarters to find Bubblegum already there, nearly vibrating with frustration at their very necessary confinement.  Emberglow was alone, with an agitated and twitchy Bubblegum, for hours.

Some nightmares were too horrifying to ever think about, ever again.

After the longest fourteen hours of Emberglow’s life, and a very essential trip to the galley to rehydrate (even though her stomach was in no mood for anything, she knew how dangerous it was to her to lose as much liquid as she had.  At least Bubblegum’s robe would never be the same again), she and the other Knights were allowed up on deck to see the state of the ship.  The sailors knew their job; the sails were down, and only one of them had to be repaired.  Two earth pony sailors were already hard at work patching up the canvas.  There were a few minor injuries, and a single broken leg from a pony that had tumbled out of the rigging while trying to furl the sails, landing hard on one hind leg.  He was a gruff old sailor type, a cliché straight out of a foal’s tale called Crusty.  It probably wasn’t his real name, but it was the only thing anypony on board knew him by.  He was cussing a blue streak as Emberglow splinted his leg, seemingly more upset about the work he would miss and the ribbing he would get from his fellow sailors than the intense pain of his broken leg.  It was hard for Emberglow to not break down with laughter, as each time Crusty let out a string of swear words, he apologized profusely to the Knight Radiant.  Once the broken bone was splinted, Emberglow put on her rune gauntlet and applied the same heal spell that weeks ago Turquoise had cast on her.

“Two weeks light duty.  Keep the splint on.  I’ve only accelerated the healing process; you’re not ready to go back to full duty just yet,” Emberglow told him.  Crusty was still alternating between invective-laden complaints, sincere apologies, and gratitude for Emberglow’s healing.  As soon as the door to the office shut behind the earth pony sailor Emberglow finally let out the floodgates of laughter, hoping desperately the old pony wouldn’t hear her.  She gave Crusty a few minutes to limp away before going to Captain Stratus to report on the old pony’s work status.  She was knocking on the captain’s door when she heard the cry from outside.

“Ship on the horizon!” came the shout from the door that led to the quarter deck.  The Captain’s door shot open, and he nodded at Emberglow.

“Sorry, Lady Emberglow.  Whatever it is has to wait,” he said, brushing past her as she nodded her acceptance.  She hung back enough to give the captain space, following him after a few paces onto the deck.  He hadn’t asked her to stay below decks, after all.

As soon as he was outside, Captain Stratus launched himself into flight, gracefully moving in between rigging and masts up to the crow’s nest.  Once up there, Emberglow watched him retrieve a collapsing spyglass from his uniform.  Unfurling the tool, he raised it to an eye towards a point on the horizon indicated by Rope Trick, the lookout pony who spent most of his time up in the tiny post.  Emberglow looked the way they were both looking, but she could see nothing.  She was too far away to hear what was said, but she saw the captain pat Rope Trick on the shoulder, before putting his spyglass away and descending to the deck next to Emberglow.

“There’s a ship all right,” he said to her.  “Could you please locate your compatriots?  Sir Delver would like to know.”  Emberglow felt a thrill of excitement; her pulse picked up with both anticipation and fear.  She told herself it probably wasn’t the pirates they were hunting, but that didn’t stop the hope and fear that this might be the confrontation they were looking for.  She found Delver in his quarters, and quickly rounded up both Turquoise and Bubblegum from the galley.  They were more than willing to leave their potato and celery chowder in order to see what the commotion was all about.  A few minutes later all four Knights were on deck with the captain and the sergeant.

“It’s not the ship we’re looking for,” the captain announced as soon as all the ponies were assembled.  Bubblegum groaned with frustration, but Captain Stratus ignored her, pushing on.  “It’s not Black-and-White Beard’s ship, but they are approaching us deliberately.  She’s close enough to have seen the Diarchy flag, and she’s bearing no colors, so it’s safe to assume they have hostile or dishonest intentions.”

“So, pirates,” Delver mused.  “Just not the pirates we were looking for.”

“Probably not,” the captain agreed.

“What’s the plan then?” Sergeant Arrow asked.

“Um, duh.  We smash pirates,” Bubblegum giggled, tapping her hooves in a happy dance against the wooden deck.  Delver rolled his eyes but nodded.

“That’s about it, actually,” Delver said.  “Our job is to hunt pirates.  Knight Command sent us two more Knights hoping we’d run into Black-and-White Beard, but any pirates dead or arrested are pirates that can’t hurt our ponies any more.  I’d call it a good day even if we don’t catch our prey, as long as we take out some scum.”

“Good enough for me,” Captain Stratus said.  “Let me fill you in on the strategic situation.”  He pointed out onto the horizon, where the assembled ponies could just barely see a spec of sails in the distance.  “Her captain holds the weather gage.  That means he’s upwind of us.  That puts us in a bad spot; he can choose to engage us or keep his distance.  We, on the other hoof, can only choose to flee.”

“Is there a middle ground?  Let them get closer slowly, while still moving generally in the direction of our destination?” Delver asked.  Captain Stratus shook his head.

“Only if she allows us to,” he said.  “If the other vessel doesn’t want to close, or wishes to close more quickly, there’s nothing we can do but turn and run.”

“What kind of guns does the other ship have?  What kind of loadout?” Delver asked.

“It’s hard to tell at range, but she’s smaller than we are.  Only one mast.  At least half our size, but faster and more maneuverable.  Which makes her actions all the more confusing.  Why is she trying to close with us, if she’s outgunned?  There’s something here we don’t know.”

“Can you make an educated guess, captain?” Delver asked.  The captain nodded.

“They’re herding us.  They want us to turn and run.  There’s another ship out there, somewhere, and the vessel in front of us has some way of communicating with them.”

The assembled ponies stared at each other in silence.  That was a frightening thought.

“Unicorns?” Turquoise asked.  The captain shrugged.

“I don’t know.  I don’t know what unicorns can do.  It’s just the only situation I can think of that explains the other captain’s behavior.”

“You have Rope Trick watching for another ship?” Delver asked.

“Yes sir,” the captain said.

“Very well.  Let’s let them herd us for now.  Knights, get below decks and get dressed for action.  I’d like to avoid the chance of us being spotted in our armor until we make contact.  Marines to the deck.  Prepare the big guns, and arm the cannons.  Let’s get ready for a fight.”

While marines prepared their weapons and Emberglow and the other Knights quickly donned their armor, a marine relayed updates from the captain to the Knights.  A cry went up on deck as the second ship was spotted; a three master, proudly flying a black and white striped flag bearing a red pony skull.

“I hadn’t heard that Black-and-White Beard had a second ship,” Delver commented conversationally when the captain informed him of the sighting, coming down below decks with Sergeant Arrow to speak with the Knights.  The four Knights were just inside the door that sat below the quarterdeck, hidden from sight in the hallway that led to the captain’s quarters.  “Captain, what is our best course of action if we intend to destroy them both?”

“Push hard for the second ship, the larger one.  Engage as quickly as possible, and cripple the second ship before the first can reach us and press us hard,” the captain said confidently.  “If we can get the Knights on board the other ship and disrupt their ability to make war, we won’t have to be caught between two broadsides.  You’ll have to swing aboard their ship by line, however.”

“Um, excuse me?” Emberglow asked, flapping her wings with a grin.  The others laughed.

“Okay, most of you will have to swing over.  Lady Emberglow can fly,” the captain said.  “You have shield spells that will protect against small arms fire?”

“Yes, anything moving over a certain velocity.  Bullets are useless against our armor and shields.  Blades, clubs, and hooves, however, are an issue,” Delver said.  “This will be our strategy, then.  Gearsmith and the other marines will keep the pirate’s heads down as much as possible, while Bubblegum and I will swing over and clear a spot for Turquoise to swing over and Emberglow to land.  The Adamant will be the tip of the spear, stabbing into the pirates while the two of you remain behind us as support.  You’ll watch our backs and keep us safe.  Once the four of us are over, we will try to disable any cannons.”

“Yes, sir,” Turquoise said, and Emberglow nodded.

“Now ponies, check your spell batteries, mentally go through your common spells, and get ready for action,” Delver said.  Emberglow looked at the glowing light indicators on the rune gauntlet; the red, yellow, and green gems were all lit, indicating a full and connected spell battery.  “Once we’re over there, stay close, and don’t go off on your own.”  He said that last with a particularly sharp look at Bubblegum, who smirked unrepentantly at him.  “I mean it, Bubblegum.”

“But sir!  We have a Radiant!  I can go as crazy as I want, cuz she can put me back together again when it’s all over!” she protested.

“I can’t heal dead,” Emberglow shot back.  “Or stupid.”  The cream colored earth pony gave her a glare and opened her mouth to respond, but Delver pushed forward.

“We’re not taking unnecessary risks.  I want your word, Knight Bubblegum, that you’ll stay close to me and the other Knights,” Delver said sternly.  The younger Adamant slumped a bit, her ears drooping as she nodded.

“Yes sir…” Bubblegum said grumpily.

“I need you to say it, Bubblegum,” Delver said, his voice softening.  Emberglow watched the exchange, confused.  

“I give you my word, Sir Delver, that I’ll do my best to stay close to you and the other two,” Bubblegum said, her voice formal.  “Happy?”

“Thank you, Bubblegum,” Delver said, as if she hadn’t added the snark at the end.  “Any questions?”

There were none, and Sergeant Arrow trotted off to issue orders to her marines.  Emberglow’s heart caught in her throat; she suddenly felt the weight of the last few weeks, the distance that had grown between her and Gadget, and she suddenly wished things could have been different.  What if this was the last time she ever saw her friend?  The thought chilled her.  Death was no stranger to Emberglow.  In medical school, as a teenager, she’d worked with corpses as part of her education.  It had been hard at first, but she’d adapted.  Later on, the students had been introduced to actual sick ponies, suffering from disease and injury.  But now, the potential of death for her friends, and her compatriots, was suddenly very real for her as battle loomed.

“Very well.  Knight Turquoise, could you lead us in prayer?” Delver asked, and Emberglow could have hugged him for it.

“Lady Rainbow Dash, guide our hooves and hearts.  Keep our minds clear and our weapons sharp.  Lady Rarity, guide our Emberglow’s magic.  Keep her safe so she can keep us safe.  Lady Pinkamina, bless us that we shall all live to embrace as friends in the joy of faith after the fires of battle.  Lady Twilight, keep us from dark magics and hateful sorceries.  All Saints keep us.”

“All Saints keep us,” the others intoned, and the captain and Sergeant Arrow departed above deck.

“Sir, it may help morale if I go and pray with the soldiers and sailors on deck,” Turquoise said.  Delver hesitated, but nodded.

“Keep your helmet off and your head down.  Hopefully your armor won’t be noticed, but they deserve the blessing of the Saints as much as we do.”

“Thank you, sir,” Turquoise said, and removed her helmet before following the captain and Sergeant on deck.

While they waited for more news, Emberglow picked up her spear.  Even after years in the Ivy Seminary, hours of personal, one on one tutoring with Lofty Tale, and countless practice sessions with Turquoise, she still wasn’t as proficient with the weapon as she wanted to be.  She realized she’d never be a match for ponies like Lofty Tale, who was a natural at combat, but she was good enough to defend herself.  She hoped it would be enough.  She clutched at the weapon, resting it against her shoulder with the spear point up.  Bubblegum stood next to her, similarly armed, but looking much more comfortable with the hafted weapon than Emberglow was.

“Huh.  Your armor’s different,” Bubblegum said, pointing at the smaller spell battery placed just between the wing slits on Emberglow’s armor.

“Yes.  Pegasus armor has a smaller spell battery on the back, between the wings.  It’s just there to generate a constant shield effect on the wings, because we can’t wear armor there.  They taught about that in the Ivy Seminary.  Weren’t you listening?” Emberglow asked, trying not to sound impatient.  Bubblegum’s eyebrows shot up, and she smirked, as if to say, ‘do you really need to ask that?’  “Nevermind, of course you weren’t.”  The other mare snorted.

“I’m jealous, you know. Of your wings,” Bubblegum said softly, glancing at Emberglow’s wings.  Her voice was quiet enough that Delver, a few feet away, probably couldn’t hear.  Emberglow was silent; she didn’t know how to respond to that.  Fortunately, Bubblegum’s notorious lack of a filter saved her from having to.  “Ever had sex while flying?”  Emberglow couldn’t help herself; she stared open-mouthed at the bizarre Knight.

“Lady Bubblegum!” Delver called out angrily.  “Too far!  Show some respect.”

“Yes sir,” she said, after jumping at the shout.  Her ears and tail drooped, and she glanced up at Emberglow from where she had shrunk down slightly.  “I’m sorry, Emberglow.”

“Forget it,” Emberglow said, meaning it.  Bubblegum sounded genuine; her sincerity wasn’t the problem.  Bubblegum was very sincere.  She was just also forgetful, and a bit socially inept.

“I’m sorry, Lady Emberglow,” Delver said.  “She means well,” he said with a scowl in Bubblegum’s direction.

“I know.  Please, just forget it,” Emberglow waved a hoof dismissively.  “Everypony is tense, I get it.  Bubblegum just deals with it in weird ways.”

“Yup!” Bubblegum agreed cheerfully.

“Sir Delver!” A marine cried out as he entered the hallway.  “The second ship is close enough to make out the ponies on board.  Most of the pirates are zebras, sir, and a few earth ponies, but Rope Trick did spot a unicorn on board.”

“And the first ship?” Delver asked.

“Zebras and earth ponies as well, with two griffons.  Two cannons to a side on the first ship, five cannons on the second.  Multiple rifles seen on both ships.”

“Thank you, marine.  Did Rope Trick say anything else about the enemy?”

“Um, yes sir.  The unicorn, sir.  She’s naked,” the marine said uncomfortably.

“Naked?” Emberglow said with a gasp.  “Why?”

“Don’t know, ma’am,” the marine said.

“A sign of deep heresy,” Delver said.  “I wish we had a Mystic, to counter her spellcasting.”  He shrugged. “Heretics often reject the teachings of Saint Rarity about decency and modesty.  Is it going to be a problem to fight against her?” he asked.  Emberglow and Bubblegum both shook their heads.  “Good.  Don’t be distracted.  Unicorns can cast the same shields we can; she’ll be immune to the higher velocity projectiles, we’ll have to get in close to her with our spears.  Bubblegum, if you see an opening to finish off the unicorn, you need to take her out.  If she’s adept at combat magic, neutralizing her as a threat will be more important than staying close.”

“Yay!” Bubblegum cheered, a response that made Emberglow feel a little disgusted; nopony should feel that cheerful about risking their life, or taking another’s.

The last few minutes before the battle were awful.  Each breath Emberglow drew in as she waited filled her stomach with a light, floating nausea; not enough to actually vomit, but certainly unwelcome.  She felt trapped, imprisoned in this hallway as the time oozed by glacially.  Turquoise remained outside, praying with the marines, while the rest of them, however, stayed hidden in the hallway.  

Emberglow was detached from whatever was happening outside, and it made her skin crawl.  She looked at Bubblegum beside her; the cream mare was twitching with impatience, her hooves tapping against the wooden hallway floor in an agitated dance.  Bubblegum glanced back; they shared a silent moment of understanding.  The young Knight Adamant nodded at her, smiling sympathetically.  There was no judgement in Bubblegum’s bright blue eyes, merely comprehension.  A blue-armored hoof patted Emberglow on the shoulder.

“We’ll keep you safe, and you’ll keep us alive,” Bubblegum said confidently, and in that moment Emberglow forgave her for every annoyance, every verbal ejaculation, and every rude interruption.  She reached up to put her hoof over Bubblegum’s.  “You’re gonna be the best thing that ever happened to this team.”  Delver remained silent and let the mares have their moment, though he had a confident, if grim, look in his eyes.

The relative silence was broken by the sudden barks of gunfire from a distance.  Emberglow jerked in surprise, her breath coming in short, tense bursts.  The sound was muffled, but the sounds of battle, of gunfire and battle cries and screams of pain, all separated from her by wooden walls and doors, made her twitch with energy.  She tried to focus on what was coming, tried to remind herself of all her training over the years, but every single thought was ephemeral, drifting and dancing out of her grasp like cobwebs.  It was an odd sort of blending of nervousness and excitement, and she couldn’t make herself think straight.

Suddenly the entire ship rattled with a sudden intensity, a loud, booming roar ripping through the air around them.  Emberglow’s every muscle tensed in alarm, and Delver held out a comforting hoof.

“Close enough for cannon fire,” Bubblegum whispered.  Even her voice was full of anticipation.  Emberglow could see it in her eyes; the mare was eager to jump into the fray.  Honestly, Emberglow didn’t blame her; sure, she was terrified herself, but waiting was agony.  She couldn’t even see what was happening, and she hated it.

The door swung open with a loud bang, and Emberglow jumped again.  it was one of the sailors.  “Boarding lines are ready.  We will be in range for the three of you to swing across in seconds, sir,” he said.  Bubblegum gave a little cheer, and Emberglow couldn’t help but feel a rush of adrenaline.

“Very well.  Knights, make the Saints proud.  Shields up.” Delver said.  All three Knights raised their gauntlets and cast the basic high velocity shield that would keep out small arms fire, but that wouldn’t interfere with hoof to hoof combat.  “Go.”

As soon as Emberglow’s hooves began moving, the burn of nausea in her stomach disappeared.  She felt like a snapped rubber band, pulled tight for too long until the strain was too much.  At least she wasn't waiting, though.  She had a goal, a pair of ponies to gallop behind. Bubblegum and Delver were both faster to react than she was, and she fell in behind them.  A single called order brought Turquoise in next to her, and the three earth pony Knights and single pegasus approached the three boarding lines that had been prepared for them.

By now, the two ships were close enough to clearly see the pirate crew on the other ship.  There were mostly zebras, but the most frightening thing was a pale yellow unicorn mare, standing proudly next to an older zebra bearing a polished scimitar and wearing an ostentatious tricorn hat that simply screamed ‘pirate cliché’.  The two of them stood at the center of a storm of armed zebras, shouting and snarling as they fired their rifles towards the sailors and marines.  Emberglow spotted Gadget and her father; Gearsmith wore a heavy harness, with two huge round-barreled weapons attached that Gearsmith had called ‘rotary cannons’. Gadget was there to manage the large chains of ammunition and help clear malfunctions or weapon jams.

“Lady Rarity keep you safe,” Emberglow said, sotto voce.  Gadget looked her way; it was much too far to hear what she said, but Emberglow saw her lips move, and the earth pony marine smiled at her, and tapped her head.  She had no idea what Gadget meant, but it didn’t matter.  She had Gadget’s support.  It filled her with a warm sort of elation.  Suddenly the crew of vicious pirates on the other ship didn’t seem nearly as daunting.

Shouts of dismay from the pirate ship brought Emberglow’s attention back to their enemy.  It seemed that the Knights had been spotted.  It was too late, though; the three earth pony Knights had already reached the boarding ropes and were preparing to swing over.  The two ships were running parallel, their prows faced in opposite directions.  Zebra pirates began to crowd the front and rails of their ship, armed with rifles, blades, and boarding ladders.

“Nopony fall into the water,” Turquoise called as the two Knights Adamant leaped off the side rail towards the pirate ship.  Turquoise followed a second later, and Emberglow counted a single breath before launching herself into the air behind her.  A dozen pirates lined along the rail of the enemy ship, the barrels of their weapons pointed at her.  Through her shield, she could feel the slight pressure of the bullets from their rifles striking against the magic.  It felt like gentle taps of pressure; gentle taps full of hateful, killing intent.

Bubblegum and Delver had already landed, and Turquoise was right behind.  Emberglow glided to a landing next to her mentor, her spear pointed downwards toward the pirates who scrambled to get out of the way of the charge.  The Knights had an obvious effect on the pirates; zebras and earth ponies alike backed away from the implicit violence of the armored magical figures landing on their deck.  A few were fumbling with knives, having realized their rifles were useless.

The noise of the battle was intense.  Gunfire was everywhere, from the single cracks of rifles to the rolling rumble of Gearsmith’s weapon.  Cries of rage, screams of pain, and weeping moans filled the air.  The oddest thing was Bubblegum; the mare was totally silent as she swung across the gulf between the ships, and as she slashed her spear in a wide arc, driving back those pirates that dared get close enough to threaten the Knights.  It was eerie; Emberglow had expected battle cries, snarls, shouts, or even joyful elated noises from Bubblegum, but instead she was a picture of silent intensity.

“Brace!” Delver cried out suddenly, shortly after Emberglow’s hooves had hit the deck.  The ships had drawn alongside each other, and an earsplitting cacophony surged over the ambient sounds of battle as the two ship captains ordered their cannons to fire.  The air was suddenly full of wood splinters and smoke, and Emberglow had to flap her wings to keep her balance as the ship rocked violently.  She could see all five cannons exposed on the top deck of the pirate ship, but Delver and Bubblegum were ignoring them pushing towards the unicorn and the captain.  Clearly, her magic was by far the greater threat; her cursed horn was glowing with a pink light as she fired beams of energy towards Lady Elegant.  Each destructive blast left scorched, splintered holes in the deck of the ship, or even sliced through rigging and sails.  Ponies struck by the blasts were thrown backwards, overboard off the ship to splash into the waters below.

Meanwhile, the pirates were drawing melee weapons and surging towards the Knights.  A pink earth pony stallion lunged at Bubblegum with a club, while two zebras tried to flank Delver with a pair of long knives.  Turquoise drove back one of the zebras with her spear, while Delver faced off with the other.  

With a start of shame, Emberglow realized that she had been frozen with indecision as the other, more experienced Knights had engaged the enemy.  She spotted two more zebras charging at Bubblegum, who was furiously pushing back against the pink, club-wielding earth pony pirate.  He was turning aside her deadly thrusts while the zebras started to circle to her sides, menacing her with clubs of their own.

A cry tore from Emberglow’s lips as she lunged for the zebra on the right of Bubblegum.  It wasn’t a particularly intimidating cry; as the dramatic opening of Emberglow’s first real battle it was a little underwhelming, more of a whimper than a bellow.  But it was all she had, and it did the job.  

The zebra looked up, peeling away from attacking Bubblegum to bring his club sideways in a parry.  He swept her spear aside so that the blade missed his right foreleg, but she didn’t let the parry halt the momentum of her charge; rather than leading with her spear, she went in with a shoulder tackle.  Emberglow was a little tall for a mare, and wearing full metal armor; she knew she had the advantage of weight over the zebra.  

She had enough time to see the look of shock in his face; he’d expected her to try and keep the advantage of her spear’s greater reach; instead, her armored shoulder slammed into his chest.  He tumbled sideways, away from Emberglow and Bubblegum and onto the deck of the ship, while she used just enough lift from her wings to keep herself from falling.  Meanwhile, the other griffon was sweeping around Bubblegum’s side, lunging with his club.  Emberglow dashed between them, parrying the blow with the haft of her spear.

“Thanks,” Bubblegum said, thrusting with her spear at the earth pony stallion she’d just knocked off balance with her own shoulder tackle; there was a gasp of pain as the blade entered the pink stallion’s chest just below his neck.  Bubblegum jerked the weapon free with a spray of blood, and the stallion fell limply away.  

She looked at Emberglow and pointed her spear at the captain; the zebra pirate was standing with his unicorn, alone, and only the zebra that Emberglow had slammed into was defending them.  Emberglow read the question in Bubblegum’s eyes, and nodded. 

Knights were trained to fight alongside one another. Even though Emberglow had very little real-life experience, she had practiced for years to move in concert with her fellow Knights.  The two mares thrust with their spears at the same time. The zebra tried to parry Emberglow’s stab while sliding out of the way of Bubblegum’s strike. He didn’t move quick enough, though, and the Knight Adamant’s spear sliced along the zebra’s leg and barrel, cutting a wide, bleeding slice into the equine pirate.  

Neither mare paused long; even if the zebra was still alive, the wound was deep enough to keep him out of the fight.  They blasted past the crumpling zebra towards the pirate captain and his unicorn witch. Black-and-White-Beard was directing the cannon fire that was bouncing between the two ships, and the unicorn was casting something as she continued to speak with the captain; her horn was glowing with pink light as she stood in readiness.  

Suddenly, the unicorn let out a shout of alarm that Emberglow heard even over the cacophony of battle and pointed her hoof at the two mares charging towards the captain with leveled spears.  This close, Emberglow could see the unicorn mare’s cutie mark; it was five pink lightning bolts arranged in a star shape.  She could also tell something else; the unicorn was young.  She was practically a foal, and still had the skinny, gangly limbs of a filly barely into her teenage years.  The teenaged filly screwed her eyes up with concentration, and the aura surrounding her horn suddenly blazed larger.

“Watch out!” Emberglow called, her hoof whipping through the air in the runes of a common counterspell.  Bubblegum hesitated for a breath, stopping in her tracks just as the unicorn’s spell fired off.  

Emberglow’s counterspell proved pointless; no offensive hex or violent beam was forthcoming. Instead, a solid pink shield came into being around the filly and the pirate captain.  It was a translucent dome, faceted in a pattern similar to a tortoise shell.

“You can’t come in,” the filly shrieked at the Knights.  “You hear me, bitches!  You can’t hurt him!”  Behind them, Sergeant Arrow’s marines were beginning to swing over on boarding lines to support Delver and Turquoise, who were keeping the other pirates away from Emberglow and Bubblegum. 

“He has to answer for all the ponies he’s killed, filly,” Bubblegum said grimly, tapping at the shield with her spear.  The unicorn filly opened her mouth to retort, but the pirate captain cut her off.

“Umeme!  You listen to me.  A showdown is not to be,” the zebra captain rhymed.  “You will follow Order Nine, and you will be safe, daughter mine.”  He seemed calm and relaxed, though he drew a long, shiny cutlass, glaring at the two Knights from the other side of the barrier.

“Daddy, no!  I will not!” The filly was weeping.

“Mutiny, then, is it?  You promised to obey without fit,” the captain said with a grin.  “Follow your orders now, no more of this foalish row.”

“Daddy… please,” she said, straining to hold her magic.  The shield began to flicker, and Bubblegum tensed to leap.

“Now, Umeme!” the pirate shouted, for once not rhyming, and with a yelp of frustration and fury, the unicorn disappeared in a flash of light and a pop of sound.  The barrier winked out as soon as the unicorn disappeared.  

Bubblegum’s reflexes were lightning fast; as soon as the barrier disappeared, she leapt, leading with her spear and the full commitment of her earth pony strength.  The captain backed away, swatting at her spear with his cutlass.  The two equines began a furious dance; lunge, parry, thrust, and counterattack.  Emberglow circled outside them, looking for a chance to help, but the two were moving too quickly.  She was concerned she would just trip up the more skilled fighter if she tried to help.  

The zebra scored a few hits, though they did little damage; besides a small scrape on Bubblegum’s cheek, and a few missing hairs from her mane, most of the pirate’s hits merely scratched off her armor.  Bubblegum, however, had yet to land any significant hits.  The pirate captain was an artist with his blade; it flashed and danced in front of him, keeping Bubblegum from using the reach of her spear or even her magically enhanced strength to her advantage.  Every time Emberglow tried to circle around behind him, or to his flank, he managed to maneuver to place a barrier in her path, using the masts and railings on his ship to his advantage.  

Two of the pirates, an earth pony and a zebra, jumped in between Emberglow and the captain, brandishing sharp knives threateningly at her.

“Please, I don’t want to hurt you if I don’t have to,” Emberglow said, but the two ignored her, closing in with their knives.  The earth pony lunged first, diving towards her throat with his blade glinting in the sunlight.  She blocked it with the haft of her spear, but the zebra’s blade was already slicing towards her face, forcing her to stumble backwards.  

Soon she was involved in her own deadly dance.  Both of her foes clearly had more experience than she did, but she had the advantage of training and superior equipment.  They acted in concert, moving nearly as one.  Every time Emberglow tried to thrust her spear at one of the pirates, the other would feint or thrust with his knife, forcing her to back off or respond.  She was considering what she could do to break the stalemate when the pink armored form of Turquoise bulldozed into one of the pirates, knocking him up against the railing on the side of the pirate ship.  A quick buck with the Knight Jubilant’s back hooves sent the earth pony pirate over the side of the railing with a startled scream.  The other pirate backed away nervously, trying to keep himself between the two Knights and the captain, who was also retreating from Bubblegum.

A cannonball from Lady Elegant careened wide, shattering the deck and ship’s railing in a storm of splinters and debris.  Emberglow and Turquoise both put hooves in front of their eyes, shielding their faces from the sharp chunks of wood.  Emberglow grunted in pain as a particularly large piece of wooden shrapnel lodged itself in her leg.  

“You okay?” Turquoise stepped over next to her former squire.  Emberglow nodded, flinching as she put her injured hoof down.  The pirate they had been fighting was dead; the cannonball had struck right next to him, and the zebra pirate was limp on the deck, littered with shrapnel and resting in an unnatural, twisted state.  

“I’m fine, how’s…”

“Delver’s on his way.  We took out two of the cannons, and our marines have started to swing over.  How’s Bubblegum?

“She was fighting the captain, last I saw.  The unicorn he was with escaped.  Teleported.  I didn’t see…” Emberglow said, panting.  Turquoise cut her off.

“Teleported to the smaller ship.  They never got to us.  Sergeant Arrow reported a flash of light on the other ship, then it turned downwind and began to speed away.”

“Coward!” came Bubblegum’s voice, screaming with frustration.  Emberglow and Turquoise found her amidst the smoke and terror.  Bubblegum was coughing and choking, rubbing at her eyes as she backed away from a cloud of sickly green smoke, which rose above a shattered glass bottle.  The other two ran to their comrade, Emberglow running awkwardly as her gauntlet traced blue runes in the air.

“Breathe normally,” Emberglow said as her glowing gauntlet rested on Bubblegum’s chest, her spell clearing whatever foul concoction had exploded from the bottle out of Bubblegum’s lungs and eyes.  The two helped the stumbling earth pony knight away from the cloud, which was slowly dissipating in the wind.

“Thanks,” Bubblegum said, pointing at the door in the pirate ship’s quarterdeck.  It was open, it’s door swung wide haphazardly.  “The coward fled below decks.  We should…”

“Delver!  Going below decks after the captain!” Turquoise shouted.  Bubblegum rushed in first, this time with Emberglow right behind her.  They entered into a hallway lined with four doors, ending in a hatch going downwards.  None of the doors were open, but the hatch gaped.

“There!” Bubblegum said, dashing for the hatch, Emberglow trailing right behind.  She heard the hooves of the others behind her.  The crazy earth pony Knight didn’t even take the time to climb down the hatch’s ladder; she simply leapt into the opening, curling her body into an acrobatic roll and landing.  Emberglow also bypassed the ladder, opting to use her wings instead.  “Hurry!” Bubblegum shouted, barely giving Emberglow enough time to find her bearings before charging down this new hallway.  She didn’t even bother landing; even though the hallway was tight, there was just enough room to spread her wings and swoop down the hallway.

“Bubblegum, be careful!” she called out, but there was no indication that Bubblegum had heard her.  At the end of the hallway, a second hatch to the lowest deck stood open, just like the first.  Bubblegum took this hatch just like the last one.  “Slow down!”

Emberglow heard the gunfire before she even made it to the hatch.  She jumped, startled, before reminding herself that Bubblegum was probably just fine.  She slipped through this hatch, pausing to note Delver and Turquoise having just made the bottom of the first ladder.

The lowest deck of the pirate ship was the hold.  There were crates and barrels everywhere.  A section of the hold, walled off by iron bars, formed a brig, though it was also filled with barrels.  There was a screech of rusty iron as the door to the brig slid shut.  The zebra pirate captain had just locked himself inside his own brig.  He carried with him a rifle that he aimed at the pony Knights, but nothing else.

“What?” Bubblegum called out, confused.  “He’s an idiot!” she said to Emberglow.  “You’re an idiot!  You think we can’t get into your little cage?  We could even kill you from out here!”  She shook her spear at him.

“Whatever you think you can do with your spear, you are the ones who need to fear,” the captain said with a fearsome grin.  He pulled a trio of matches out of his long coat, and grinned devilishly at the Knights.  “Do I need to imply it louder?  These barrels are full of black powder!”  

“You’re nuts!” Bubblegum cried out, instinctively backing away from the caged zebra while the pirate captain pried the lid off of one of the barrels.  Sure enough, the barrel was full of silvery black gunpowder.  Emberglow backed away as well, motioning to the older two Knights, who were just making their way down the last ladder.  She was no demolitions expert, but there were enough explosives in that cage to blow a sizeable hole in the side of the ship, and probably kill anypony too close.  

“Back up,” Emberglow whispered harshly to Delver and Turquoise.  “He’s going to blow up his whole ship!”

“Perhaps not,” Delver said, as his experienced eyes analyzed the room.  “He hasn’t yet.  Maybe he wants something.”

“You are wiser than you seem, Knight.  Your hasty assumption is right,” the captain smirked.

“Your crew is dying, dead, or captured.  Your allies have fled.  There is no outcome of this battle that ends with you free,” Delver said.  “I have to ask for your surrender.”

“Oh?  What do you offer me, if you will not let me free?” the zebra asked, his hoof holding the unlit matches hovering over the open barrel.

“Not much, I’m afraid,” Delver said.  “If you surrender, I can promise you a painless execution at sea.”

“Such generous terms!” the captain laughed sarcastically.  “You can take your surrender to the worms!”

“Conversely, if you do not surrender, you will be captured and hauled back to Port Luminescence in chains.  You will be given to the mercies of Blingshine, the governor there.  I’m told you and he are not on good terms; you’ve cost him a great deal of money, nearly as much as you’ve cost the Diarchy military.  I don’t think you’ll last long in his care, but the days leading up to your execution will be a nightmare.”

“’Tis blasphemy to invoke Her old name, but only your ignorance is to blame,” the pirate muttered. “You offer no real choice, so I will not listen to your voice!”  With a swift flick, he lit one of the matches.

“Knights, shields!” Delver screamed, and all three Knights began frantically casting whatever shields they could manage.  The dark hold was alight with green glows, and the flickering orange of the match.  With a cry of fury, the pirate shoved the burning match into the black powder, just as Emberglow’s spell, more powerful than all the others, flickered over everypony in the hold.  She tried to clench her eyes shut right as a bright flash filled the room.  She didn’t have time to cover her ears.

Debris and shrapnel battered her shield.  She felt her body airborne, then it hit something hard and the breath was knocked out of her.  The world was blackness and fire, and then suddenly nothing but water.  Saltwater burned in her eyes and nostrils, and she felt herself being dragged down by the weight of her armor.  The only thing she could hear was a high pitched ringing in her ears.  

Emberglow’s first reaction was sheer panic.  She was in her armor, and it would sink.  It would sink, and she would drown.  Her limbs flailed in the dark, cold ocean, her legs dancing about and her wings and tail flapping uselessly.  She was lost; she had no idea which way was up.  Her hooves occasionally came in contact with other things in the water; broken shards of wooden planks, pieces of cargo, maybe even other ponies.  

Suddenly something grabbed her hoof, and she shrieked; bubbles jetting out of her muzzle and into the water.  She nearly inhaled the water before whoever had grabbed her hoof tapped at her gauntlet.  She opened her eyes, and saw Bubblegum, her throat glowing with the green light of an active water breathing spell.

Oh.

Her throat and lungs burned, but she dragged her gauntleted hoof slowly through the water, forming the runes necessary for the spell.  It took her two tries, her panic beginning to rise again before she felt the spell take effect with the cool touch of magic in her throat and lungs.  Hesitantly, she tried to take in a breath, expecting her lungs to be suddenly filled with the cold saltwater.  Instead, it was just like breathing normal air.  There was no way to thank the other mare for her reminder, so Emberglow settled for an underwater hug instead.  Bubblegum looked shocked at first, then smirked.  She pointed up.

Her panic receding, Emberglow tried to take stock of what was going on.  She was underwater, that was clear.  Debris and shattered boards swirled around her, most moving up as she and Bubblegum sunk.  She cast a second spell, much more calmly, a buoyancy spell.  Bubblegum did the same.  It didn’t make either of them float to the top; the spell merely made them neutrally buoyant, so that they could begin swimming to the surface.  The two mares moved at a diagonal, towards the light to the sides of the two dark shadows of the ships above them.  They weren’t the only two ponies in the water; there were others, but they were the only ones moving.  Emberglow tried not to wonder if she knew any of the corpses floating among the ruins of the pirate ship.  Alongside the other Knight, she began to swim for the nearest patch of light she could see.  

The two ponies breached the surface with an instinctual gasp of air, even though the spell was still intact.  The first thing Emberglow noticed was Lady Elegant, battered, pitted with cannon fire, smoldering in two places, but still afloat.  Sailors scrambled along the deck, some of them armed with rifles, some not.  Though the ringing in her ears was fading, Emberglow still couldn’t hear anything.

There was frantic motion coming from the deck, and Emberglow looked up to see one of the sailors pointing at them.  Two more sailors poked their heads over the railing, and soon enough a pair of ropes had been tossed down to the two floating Knights.  Emberglow tried to launch herself from the water, but her water saturated wings would not get her airborne.  Bubblegum laughed and said something Emberglow couldn’t hear, and the two of them caught the ropes in the turbulent waters.  They did their best to pull themselves up on the ropes as the sailors hauled them up at the same time.  Soon the two soggy Knights were heaved onboard, trying to ring the saltwater out of their manes and tails.  Somepony tapped Emberglow on the shoulder, and she looked up to see Gadget, the blue mare’s face full of worry and relief all at once.  She was saying something; Emberglow could barely make out the sounds.  The words were impossible to understand.

“What?” Emberglow asked, too loudly, because Gadget flinched away from the noise, and then grinned.  Gadget shook her head and pointed with one hoof.  Emberglow looked, and there stood Delver and Turquoise.  They were both bloody, and covered in shrapnel wounds, but they were standing on their own power.  Emberglow and Bubblegum both ran over to the other two, and immediately began casting healing spells.  The effort it took to raise her hoof, and the stiffness and pain she felt, reminded her of her own injuries, but she ignored it.  

The spell she cast was simple and clumsy; a mere first aid stopgap intended to simultaneously ease pain and stop minor bleeding.  She would do more thorough examinations later.  Delver and Turquoise both nodded gratefully, and Bubblegum smirked.  Turquoise said something, and Emberglow quirked her head to the side, her ears following the mare, but still not hearing anything.  Bubblegum shook her head, and with both hooves, covered her ears and shook her head.  Turquoise nodded, and tapped Emberglow’s rune gauntlet, then pointed at Bubblegum.

There was a spell to restore damaged hearing.  Unfortunately, nopony outside of the Radiant was likely to have specialized so much in healing magic to even be aware of it.  Emberglow could cast the spell, but not on herself.  Still, she could fix Bubblegum.  She cast the spell, and Bubblegum did a little happy hoof dance before giving Emberglow a quick hug.

“What happened?  How is everypony?” Emberglow asked, trying not to shout.  In response, Delver pointed first at the pirate ship.  It was sinking; a tremendous hole gaped in the side of the ship, which was sitting in the water at an unhealthy angle.  There were pirate bodies draped over shattered timbers and smears of blood on the broken wood.  “How many of ours did we lose?”  Delver’s expression fell, and he held up one leg, tapping the deck with his hoof four times.  He then pointed over to a space beneath the center mast, where several wounded ponies were laid out side by side.

Triage.  Emberglow understood this.  Motioning for the others to follow, she galloped over to the wounded ponies, making quick assessments of the wounds and their relative danger.  Gearsmith she passed with a friendly smile and a pat on his shoulder; he was wounded, yes, but it took Emberglow only a glance to realize that neither his sprained rear leg nor the bullet graze on the underside of his barrel were life threatening, and somepony had already assembled a clumsy bandage for him.  She moved on to the next pony, passing on her broken wing as well.  Emberglow could set that later.  

The third pony was unconscious, a bleeding bullet wound just above his left eye.  The exit wound was in the back of the pony’s head, and much, much larger; she had to steel herself to look.  The pony, a sailor, was being held in the hooves of another sailor, a mare.  Emberglow remembered seeing the two of them canoodling on deck when they thought nopony was looking.  She didn’t need long to assess this patient, either.  There was a hitch in her throat as she looked up in the mare’s eyes, shaking her head.  It was a blessing that she was deaf, and couldn’t hear the sobs.

The next patient could be saved.  She cast a heal spell as quickly as she could, binding and sealing the three bullet wounds, two through his barrel, one through his right foreleg.  The one bullet had perforated his stomach and intestines; it would have been a slow, nightmarishly painful death.  Now it would be a few weeks of hard recovery, followed by a full life, hopefully.  The pony after that was Sergeant Arrow.  A compound fracture in her leg had the bone jutting out in a jagged mess of sharp bone and torn skin.  Emberglow looked up at the Sergeant’s face; besides a little paleness in the mare’s face, there was no reaction to the fact that she had two inches of razor sharp bone protruding from the flesh of a hind leg.  

Delver was right behind her, and she quickly gave him instructions.  His muscled hooves wrapped around the sergeant, bracing her for the impromptu operation.  Emberglow took hold of the wounded leg; with a practiced jerk and a twist she shoved the bone back in place.  She wasn’t looking at the sergeant when she did it, but after she had cast another healing spell over the wound, she looked up to see the sergeant’s eyes closed and her head drooped in unconsciousness.  It was no matter; rest would do her good.

Emberglow went through the rest of the patients, emptying her spell battery on the most dire, moving past those who could be made to wait.  Nopony seemed angry or impatient at being made to wait for the more dire cases.  When her magical battery was finally exhausted, Turquoise handed her another; it was half depleted already, and Emberglow realized it was from Turquoise’s own gauntlet.  She healed everypony she could, even burning through the dregs in Bubblegum and Delver’s gauntlets.  Then she began washing and bandaging the wounds of those she didn’t have the power to heal magically.  It took hours, and in that time, four deaths became five.  By the time the soldier with the head wound finally breathed his last, raspy breath, Emberglow’s hearing had come back just enough to hear it.

Once the sailors and marines had been seen to, Emberglow saw to the pirates.  There were eight prisoners that had been taken alive; none had surrendered and taken Delver’s offer of a quick and painless execution at sea.  Every single one of them would be delivered to Port Luminescence for trial, execution, and probably torture and humiliation as well.  

And worst of all, in her last, split second of spellcasting, Emberglow didn’t have the time to refine her spell, making it affect only specific ponies.  At the moment of the blast, she had protected the lives of every pony in that hold.

The pirate captain, known by his enemies as Black-and-White Beard, was currently chained in the hold of the Lady Elegant.
> Chapter 14
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 14


Official correspondence from Knight Captain Delver Deep, to Grand Master Fairy Light.

My Lady Fairy Light,

I am Sir Delver Deep of the Adamant.  I am writing to you in regards to one of the newest Knights of your order, Knight Private Emberglow.  I am deeply impressed with the young mare.  She has shown courage in battle, a clear head, wisdom, empathy, and compassion.  She is a credit to your order and to Lady Rarity.

I am sure you are aware of the nature of our assignment.  Emberglow was a part of our combat unit as we hunted down the zebra pirate Zuberi, sometimes known locally as “Black-and-White Beard”.  Emberglow performed all that was required of her with distinction and valor, with an exactness and eagerness that served as an inspiration to myself and the other Knights on our team.

Despite all of this, I would like to voice a concern.  Please, keep this to yourself.  Emberglow is a gentle soul, and though she has not said as much to me, I believe she entered the Knighthood with the sole purpose of helping and healing ponies.  Combat is not her forte, and indeed, the blood and death she was forced to help inflict on others, even infidels, unbelievers, and heretics, takes a toll on her innocent soul.  I do not believe she would refuse any assignment you give to her, but I believe she would thrive more in a situation where she is not forced to dispense violence herself.

I would never presume to advise one as honored as you.  Please take my words for what they are worth, the idle concerns of a teammate, and perhaps even a friend, of your young Knight Emberglow.

Blessings of the Saints on you,

Knight Captain Delver Deep

1112 AF, Port Luminescence

“You’re wasting your time with these lowlifes, Lady Emberglow,” one of the mercenary ponies who guarded the Port Luminescence prison muttered as she breezed past him.  “It’s not like they’re not gonna get stretched in a few days, anyways.”  Emberglow had never bothered to learn his name; anypony who was willing to take Blingshine’s coin wasn’t a pony she wanted to get to know better.

“Perhaps you may not understand,” Emberglow said stiffly.  “What I do is my duty.  You know what duty means, right?”  She winced.  She shouldn’t have added that last bit, but she was getting tired of the snide remarks and sidelong looks from the guards Blingshine had hired to watch the eight pirate prisoners and the filthy, nasty pits they’d been tossed into.  “Has the food been delivered?”

“Soup and bread’s inside, Lady Emberglow,” the guard said with obvious boredom.  “Just like always.  We didn’t touch it this time.”  On her first day back, Emberglow had been horrified to discover that prisoners were sometimes not even fed.  Even when they were, sometimes the food was spat on, or otherwise tainted.  She’d set some specific rules about how food was to be prepared for them after that point.  Just because they were slated for execution didn’t mean they should be mistreated.

“Thank you, guard,” she called back as she continued down the creaking wooden stairs into the mud-spattered pits below.

There were no cells in this prison; instead it held four large pits, covered with a grate of wooden poles.  In the center of the room was a large stew pot, four buckets, and a basket with several pieces of stiff, stale bread.  With a sigh, she steeled herself for the abuse she knew was coming.

“Hey, it’s the pegasus bitch!  Why don’t you come down here with us, I’ve got a meal for you!” The first shout came from one of the pits.  She ignored the pirate, sure he was making some sort of obscene gesture to accompany his invitation.  “A nice, thick sausage.”  Sometimes they could be incredibly predictable.

She filled the first bucket with thin broth from the stewpot, and attached it to a rope.  She then lowered the bucket, along with two of the bread pieces, down into the pit, waiting until she felt slack on the rope to pull the rope back up.  They might be heckling her, but they were smart enough to not mess with their dinner.

“Diarchy slut!  Does it make you feel big, to torture us down here?”  She’d learned on the first day there was no point responding to any of them, except maybe the captain.  She lowered the second bucket to the prisoners in the next pit.  Her thanks were more insults, blasphemy, and crude innuendos.

She moved on to the third pit, her mind drifting to her other tasks for the day.  Being the most junior Knight in the squad meant paperwork: incident reports, casualty reports, resource expenditures, that sort of thing.  Being the primary medical officer meant even more paperwork; namely, letters to next of kin.  She’d been putting that bit off, though the guilt of it burned her.  There was a letter on her desk back at the Turtle that she’d begun and paused at least a hundred times over the last few days; how was she supposed to tell Tangerine’s grandchildren that their dear grandmother would never be coming home again?

“Hey!  You braindead up there, dummy?” a voice from below broke her out of her thoughts.  the prisoners down below were jerking on the rope, wordlessly she pulled it up, moving on to the last pit, where the captain was kept.  

Instead, she found only one prisoner, who glared up at her hatefully.

“Where is Captain Zuberi?” she asked, surprised out of her silence.  She’d actually managed to learn his real name over the last few days.  He was the one pirate who spoke to her, rather than cursing and insulting her.  He had always been polite, acting as if they were anywhere other than a dirty prison in a muddy pirate port.

“Where do you think, slut?” the lone pirate in the pit shot up at her.  “Or are you really stupid enough that you didn’t notice the whip marks and blade scars every time you came to force this slop on him?  He deserves better.”

Emberglow flinched.  She knew where he was.  She just didn’t want to think about it.

“Very well,” she said, lowering the bucket to the lone prisoner.  “I’ll wait until they return.”

“Sure, tell yourself it’s just a picnic, or a little vacation,” the pirate snorted with contempt.  “Your kind are good at lying to themselves.”

Emberglow let the fury and the insults wash over her, ignored.  Nothing they said to her really mattered, after all.  They were all heretics, and none of them had shown any sort of interest in repentance or absolution. At least they knew she was there to listen if they changed their minds.  So she stood, waiting patiently for her last charge to be returned.

Finally a group of ponies descended the stairs into the prison, dragging a slumped figure in their midst.  There were three guards, earth ponies with bulging muscles and a latticework of scars on their bodies.  Between them was Captain Zuberi, limp, bloody, and being dragged by his forelegs.  His breath was raspy, and blood dripped from his lips.  His face was a mess of bruises, and Emberglow could see teeth missing from his muzzle.  He looked up at her, his expression a dazed, half-conscious mask of agony.  Behind them strolled Blingshine, in all his ostentatious and dubious glory.

“Lady Emberglow!  I am so glad you are here, I wished to speak with you,” Blingshine called out in a singsong voice.  He turned his muzzle up at the foul smell of the prisoners, daintily picking his way through the prison as if he could somehow keep the filth and mud off his white hooves.

“What can I do for you, governor?” Emberglow said as politely as she could. Why did it have to be him, of all ponies?

Blingshine pointed with his hoof, and his guards dumped the captain on the mud floor, one of them stepping on his back, right on the withers, to keep him ground into the mud.  Zuberi didn’t look like he had any chance of fighting back anyways; he was limp as a sack.

“While this creature is quite resistant to our interrogation techniques, his body is far too weak to continue questioning.  I would like to know more about his activities, which ships he took, where the cargo was taken, what foul allies he may have here and in the rest of the Diarchy.  It’s important work, but he is proving too resilient.  If you could heal him, fair Lady Knight, we could continue our questioning and obtain information valuable to all of us.”

Emberglow felt like she had been kicked.  He wanted her to do what?  It made her feel sick to even consider.  She walked over to the prisoner, motioning with a hoof and a glare for the guard to step off of the former pirate captain.  She leaned down, ignoring her white robe trailing in the filthy floor.  With a skilled hoof she did a quick inspection of the zebra’s injuries.  Broken jaw.  At least one broken rib.  Possible collapsed lung.  One eye swollen shut, possibly damaged beyond repair.  She wasn’t wearing her armor; her gauntlet was a part of her kit back at The Turtle.

“Send one of your ponies to find Sir Delver,” Emberglow said flatly.  “Tell him I need my rune gauntlet.  I don’t trust your ponies to go rifling through my things.”  It was a blunt thing to say, and she saw Blingshine’s face darken slightly at the implied insult.  Emberglow didn’t care.  She suspected she would insult him a few more times throughout the rest of this conversation.

“Verde, go find the Knight and give him the message,” Blingshine ordered, and one of the stallions rushed off to follow his orders.  Emberglow ignored the others, continuing her inspection of the zebra.  He was just lucid enough to look her in the eye.  Emberglow wished to say something, but there were no words to be said.

“When are they scheduled for execution?” Emberglow asked.  Yet another grim duty she would have to participate in.  The medical officer overseeing the execution of a prisoner would have to verify the death of the condemned.

“Three days, Lady Emberglow,” Blingshine replied.  “They will be hung in the public square.  You will be there?”

“I am required by my duty, yes,” Emberglow said neutrally, but Blingshine clearly found something in her tone to react to, for he was scrutinizing her closely.  She blatantly ignored him, her growing distaste at the governor making it dangerous for her to say anything.  Wordlessly she motioned at him to make room for her so she could continue her tasks.

Blingshine bowed graciously to her, and stepped out of her way as she lowered the rope into the pits so the prisoners could return the buckets. Emberglow did her best to pretend Blingshine wasn’t there, as the governor’s presence seemed to make the prison even slimier than the mud they were stepping on.  They didn’t have to wait long;  the guard was quick, and he returned with Delver following behind.  Delver wore his armor, as usual, and took out Emberglow’s rune gauntlet from his saddlebags.  She walked over to him and accepted it, before looking him in the eye with an apologetic grimace.

“Sorry,” she whispered.  “I think I’m going to cause trouble for you.”  Sir Delver smiled and shrugged as he helped her put on her gauntlet.

“So?  You’ll heal him?” Blingshine said, his voice slurred with bloodlust.   Emberglow felt her skin crawling at his eager tone as she moved over to the zebra.  She leaned down to him, her lips almost touching his ear, which twitched at her soft breath.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered gently.  “We may be enemies, but even you deserve better than this.”  She had no idea if he heard her.

“Governor Blingshine has asked me to use magic to heal the pirate,” Emberglow said, louder, to Delver.  “Apparently, he needs to be healed so he can be tortured more.”  She knew she had read Sir Delver correctly when she saw the anger in his eyes as well.  Delver had honor, so much more than Blingshine.  She turned to face the Governor, looking him straight in the eye.  “No.”

“What?” Blingshine said, his face awash with shock as his ears shot up.

“I said, no.  I will not contribute to the torture of this pony.  My magic will not be used for this foul purpose,” she said.  She hoped her voice sounded confident, despite the roiling, churning hurricane of anxiety in her stomach.  Delver remained silent, letting his Knight fight her own battle.  His silent support was just what she needed.

“I will heal him, and he will go back into his cell, where he will wait until his execution.  You will not torture him any longer.  We do not need any information he has to give; Knight Command and the Mystics have declined the need to interrogate him.  What you are doing now is just sick.  If you tell me he will have to be tortured longer, I will break his neck right here.”  She stepped up to the prone prisoner, placing her hoof on his neck and leaning just slightly.  Blingshine was close enough that she could smell his perfume over the stink of the prison; his eyes glowed with rage, and he was breathing heavily.  He looked between the two Knights; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.  After a moment of silence, the slick grin of the slimy politician slid over his face like an ooze.

“But Lady Emberglow, what…”

“No!” she shouted again, lifting her hoof of Zuberi’s neck and stomping it on the ground.  She shoved her muzzle right into Blingshine’s, staring down the stallion.  She was just a little taller than he was, she realized, and it gave her a pulse of confidence.  She could feel her legs shaking, but she didn’t let it show in her eyes, steady on the other pegasus’ face.

“Very well, Lady Emberglow,” he said finally, with a blank, slick smile.  “No more interrogation, if you wish.  On your head be the consequences.”  He stepped back from her in a movement that felt more like a strategic retreat than a surrender.  Emberglow looked at the two guards who had remained; they looked confused and uncomfortable.

“Hold him up.  I will heal him, then you will put him back in his cell.  Understand?” she ordered.  The guards looked from her back to Blingshine, who shrugged as he flounced up the stairs and out of the room.  He would leave it entirely in her hooves, then.  Very well.  She drew the runes for a healing spell, running it over the zebra’s barrel first, patching the broken ribs that were probably causing the most pain.  It took three total spells to fully heal the condemned prisoner; one for his broken ribs, one for his shattered jaw, and a third for his destroyed eye.  It wasn’t repairable, as it turned out; he would have no sight in the eye for the rest of his short life.  But she could ease the pain and seal the wounds.

“You waste your work,” the zebra rasped out.  Apparently he was awake enough to know what was going on.  “They’re just going to hang this jerk.”

“I won’t have Lady Rarity’s holy gift used to torture ponies,” Emberglow whispered back, as the guards shoved aside the metal grate that made up Zuberi’s cell.  He was pushed into the pit, though he didn’t bother to protest much.

“You give so much to honor a fabrication,” the zebra called out.  “I wish you could see it is your own damnation.”  

Emberglow had nothing to say to that.  She looked up at Delver, his face concerned and thoughtful.  With a nod to him, she trotted up the stairs and out of the prison.  He followed behind silently.  

“I really need to wash this robe,” she commented to Delver as soon as they were outside.  Her breathing was heavy with tension, her mind whirring at what had just happened.  Delver wasn’t helping; his silence, which before had been a quiet, comforting strength, was now a source of anxiety.  Had she done the right thing?  She kept talking, more to fill the now painful silence than anything else.  “I guess it doesn’t matter much, I’ll be going back tomorrow, right?  But still, appearances are…”

“Emberglow,” Delver said, cutting into her babbling speech.

“I’m sorry,” she said, the tension suddenly breaking with a rush of fear and shame.  “I’m so sorry.  I just made things really difficult for you, didn’t I?  I’m worthless in a situation like that.”  She brushed at her eyes, wet with moisture.  

“Emberglow.  Calm down,” Delver said gently.  “You did nothing wrong.  Yes, things might be strained with Blingshine for a few weeks.  Even months.” He put his hoof on her shoulder, stopping her in the middle of the street.  “Did you handle that the way I might have?  Or Turquoise?  Probably not.  But he needs to be reminded, every so often, that he rules at the Diarchy’s sufferance.  Yes, he is useful to us, but not so useful that he can defy a Knight.”  He slipped his hoof more firmly around the young Knight, gripping her in a hug.  Emberglow was a little surprised; she hadn’t expected physical affection from Delver.  “Don’t judge yourself, Knight.  You did the right thing.”

She smiled slightly, feeling her spirits lifted, at least a little. “So… what now?” she asked.  “Right thing or not, I’ve created a problem for us, haven’t I?”

“Well, yes,” Delver admitted with a laugh, releasing the hug.  “We might have to step gently around Blingshine for a while, until he cools off.  We’ll have to meet and discuss the implications of this, and I’d rather do it sooner than later.”  He sighed.  “I’ll need you to go… erm… extract Bubblegum.”

“Right,” Emberglow said with a resigned sigh.

“She’s at home, but she may be…” he gave an annoyed grunt, rolling his eyes.  “…too occupied to answer her door.  Go inside and interrupt if you have to.  Tell her we need to speak as soon as possible, but try to be discrete.”

“Of course,” Emberglow said with a nod.

“Meet us back at my office,” he said as she took to the air, spreading her wings and lifting herself off the mud street.  

Emberglow had visited Bubblegum’s house precisely once, before leaving onboard Lady Elegant.  It was a humble home, only a single story, and unexpectedly well-kept given what Emberglow knew about Bubblegum’s flightiness.  Bubblegum had built a solid stone retaining wall around her yard to keep her front flower garden free from the excessive mud and moisture that frequently invaded Port Luminescence’s streets.  A cloyingly domestic white painted fence surrounded the small property, more decorative than practical.  A stone path surrounded by grazing flowers led to the front door.  

Emberglow landed just beyond the gate, near the front door.  She tried not to think about what might be going on inside as she raised her hoof to knock on the door.  Her hoof rapped on the pastel green painted wood three times, then she sat back to wait.

Nothing.

Emberglow tried again; knock three times, wait.

Still nothing.  With a sigh that was both nervous and exhausted, she reached out to turn the doorknob and swing the door open.  It was unlocked.  She stepped nervously into Bubblegum’s front room, which was both an entryway and a kitchen.

Bubblegum’s kitchen was as quaint and domestic as her front yard.  There were floral pattern curtains on the window, and a collection of pots and pans hanging from hooks over a central island workspace.  A potted plant on a wooden kitchen table rested on a doily.  

A doily.  Emberglow had a hard time conceiving of a world that contained both Bubblegum the earth pony and doilies.  

There was nopony in the kitchen, but from the suspiciously wet noises and lusty moans coming from the cracked door that led to the small bedroom, Emberglow could guess where Bubblegum was.

Emberglow didn’t have much experience with sex, obviously.  She had spent the entirety of her life since puberty, since before puberty, dedicating a great deal of time and energy into repressing any sexual thought or desire she had ever had.  Her interactions with Gadget had shown her that perhaps her defenses were not as well-built as she thought, but the carnal sounds coming from the next room did not awaken any sort of feeling in her whatsoever, except perhaps a mild distaste.  It had been three days, and they were still going at it like bunnies?  She knocked on the door, waiting a few seconds while trying to ignore the moans of passion on the other side.  She was so annoyed she didn’t even bother to knock again before pushing the door open with one hoof.

“Bubblegum, I’m sorry, but…” the rest of her apology died in her throat as her mouth gaped open.  The Knight Adamant was, indeed, carnally ‘involved’ on her bed, the sheets in disarray and the entire room stinking of body odor and the sexual fluids of the nude couple writhing in passion before her.  But it wasn’t Bubblegum’s husband that was mounting her. 

It was a griffon.

Emberglow felt the bile rise in her throat. Both the beaked face and the surprised muzzle of the earth pony froze mid-thrust, gaping at her in shock.  The griffon suddenly leapt off his lover, and off the bed entirely, spinning to face Emberglow as Bubblegum stumbled off the bed.  Emberglow had to fight an internal war; the situation was suddenly dangerous, and her instincts and training demanded that she not take her eyes off of the beast before her.  Her sense of revulsion and horror, however, demanded that she turn and run, screaming.

“Emberglow, um, it’s not what it looks like…” Bubblegum stuttered, not taking her eyes off the Knight.  The griffon looked panicked, his eyes darting between the two mares.  Emberglow idly noted Bubblegum’s cutie mark, starkly obvious on her naked flank.  It was, appropriately, a pair of pink bubbles.

“So he was raping you?” Emberglow spat out, her horror at what she was seeing evident in her voice.  

“No!” Bubblegum protested loudly, anger mixing with the panic in her voice.

“So you let him… do that to you!?” Emberglow yelled, and Bubblegum flinched.  “Bubblegum, this is bestiality!  A capital offence!  They’ll execute you!”

“Only if you tell them,” Bubblegum growled, a dangerous note in her voice that Emberglow couldn’t fail to pick up on.  She stepped so that she was closer to Emberglow, moving so that she was between the Radiant and the griffon.

“You know I have to,” Emberglow said shakily, taking a step back.  “I have to report this, Bubblegum.  Why?  Why would you betray us like this?  Betray your husband, betray Lady Rainbow?  Why?”

Bubblegum shared a quick glance with the griffon, and a moment of understanding seemed to pass between them.

“Go,” Bubblegum said.  “Keep him safe.” The griffon nodded, dashing over to the window and sliding it open.

“But…” he hesitated, looking over at Emberglow.

“I can take her,” Bubblegum said, glaring dangerously at Emberglow.  “Go.  Get Windy out.”

“Your husband is in on… whatever this is?” Emberglow shouted as the griffon slipped out the window and winged off.  Emberglow itched to chase him, but she knew the second she turned her back she would be attacked.  That was a horrifying thought; fighting another Knight was the last thing she’d ever expected to do.

“Emberglow, I don’t wanna hurt you,” Bubblegum said, taking another step towards her.  “But I don’t wanna die.  I’m not gonna let them execute me, or Windy.”  

“I can’t let you go,” Emberglow whispered.  “Knight Bubblegum, you are under arre…” 

She wasn’t even able to finish the sentence before Bubblegum was upon her in a flurry of hooves and biting teeth.  As with the battle with the pirates, Bubblegum’s charge was completely and eerily silent.  Emberglow tried to fend her off with flailing hooves, but for every strike she dodged or blocked, two more struck her about the face.  Pain blossomed in her head as each pounding strike, backed by the full strength of a magically enhanced earth pony, crashed into her.  

Emberglow knew that combat was not her forte, but she had severely underestimated the difference in skill between them. She was slowly forced back by Bubblegum’s assault, until she suddenly found herself pinned with her back against the wall.  With a snarl, Bubblegum pounced onto her, and the weight of the vicious fighter on top of her bore her to the wooden floor.  

Emberglow’s head struck the floor, and as she tried to raise it again, Bubblegum’s hoof shoved against her forehead, slamming her into the floor again, and a third time.  There was a loud crunch and crack as Emberglow’s head struck hard enough to break the wooden floor.  Her vision spun with stars, but Emberglow somehow managed to squeeze her rear hooves underneath Bubblegum’s barrel.  Bracing against the floor, she bucked hard with her rear legs, sending Bubblegum somersaulting over her head and into the kitchen. Bubblegum crashed into the kitchen table, wood shattering at the heavy impact.

Emberglow had just enough time to roll onto her hooves and stand up.  Bubblegum was quicker on her hooves, and had retrieved one of the jagged broken table legs as a makeshift club.  Emberglow wished for her spear as the earth pony charged her, improvised weapon raised high.  Emberglow raised her hooves to block the strike, seizing hold of the end of the club. 

It had been a feint.  Her hooves otherwise occupied, she had no response ready when Bubblegum let go of the club and struck, hard, right at Emberglow’s jaw.  There was a sharp stab of intense pain and a crunch of bone.  The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.  

Emberglow dropped the end of the club she was holding, stunned by the sudden pain of the strike.  Her distraction lasted long enough for Bubblegum to spin around, bracing her front hooves against the floor and lashing out with a full, double-barreled buck right to Emberglow’s chest.  She spun in the air as she went flying, landing heavily on the rumpled bed with an ‘oof’ of expelled air.  

Her chest and face hurt, and her muscles burned from exertion.  She couldn’t move; the powerful two legged kick had knocked the air out of her entirely.  She spread her wings, trying to rise up to do… something, anything, when there was suddenly a weight on her back.  She screamed in pain as her spread wings were twisted and flattened against the bed, pinned in awkward angles.  A hoof wrapped around her neck, and she desperately tried to shove off the strong foreleg that squeezed against her throat, cutting off her air.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she heard Bubblegum sob above her.  “I don’t wanna hurt you, I never wanted this.”  Emberglow bucked against the bed, trying to get her hooves under her, trying to get them under Bubblegum, trying anything to break the earth pony’s deadly grip.  “I’m so sorry, Emberglow.”  She gnashed her teeth and slammed her head backwards, trying to dislodge the other Knight, but she couldn’t get the leverage she needed to break Bubblegum’s chokehold.  Her vision began to swirl, brown and black dancing at the edges as her oxygen starved lungs burned with need.  

“I won’t kill you,” somepony said.  Somepony above her.  She couldn’t quite make out who.  “I can’t.  I won’t go that far.  I’m so sorry.”  Then the blackness collapsed in on her, and she slumped into nothingness.


*   *   *   *   *


Minutes or months or decades later, Emberglow suddenly felt the acid burn of healing buzzing through her neck and muzzle.  She was somewhere.  Where was she?  It was all dark.

“Emberglow!  Emberglow, wake up!”

Turquoise.  That was Lady Turquoise calling to her.  No, wait, not Lady anymore, Emberglow was a Knight now, too.  Her thoughts swam, incoherent.  She opened her eyes.  Delver and Turquoise were standing next to a bed.  Her bed?  No.  Somepony else’s bed.  Eww.  Somepony’s bed smelled like sex.

With a jolt, Emberglow suddenly remembered everything that had happened.  She tried to stand, but her legs were too weak, crumpling underneath her and dumping her back into the soft and comfy but somewhat fragrant bed.

“Ow,” she rasped, her throat scratchy and pained.  Turquoise laid a hoof on her back.

“Don’t get up, you’re injured,” she said softly, her voice full of concern.

“Can you tell us what happened?  Who attacked you?  Where are Bubblegum and Wind Storm?” Delver asked.

“Bubblegum…” Emberglow began.  She didn’t know what to say.  She had no idea how to begin.

“Focus, please, Emberglow.  We need to know where she is in case whoever attacked you goes after her as well,” Delver said.  Turquoise shot him a look.

“Bubblegum… did this,” Emberglow managed through her damaged throat.  The healing spell Turquoise had cast had healed the worst of the damage in her jaw and wings, but all of her was still sore and battered from the fight.

“What?” Turquoise said with shock.  “Emberglow, you’re delirious.”

“I walked in on her… with a griffon.  Sex.  They were…” it was coming out all wrong, the words out of order, tumbling over each other.  But she could tell from the horror in the eyes of her fellow Knights that they understood what she was saying.  She choked out more.  “She begged me not to say anything.  I said… I said I had to.  She tried to kill me while the griffon escaped.  I think… I think Wind Storm knew about it.”

“Why do you say that?” Delver asked.

“Something she said, before she attacked me.  She told the griffon to ‘go get Windy’.”

The other two exchanged a glance that was both devastated and determined.

“We have to come up with a plan for this,” Turquoise said.  Delver nodded.

“Emberglow, I need to know if you’re okay right now.  Medical opinion, no false bravado,” Delver said.  Emberglow nearly nodded automatically, but she did as he asked and made a quick assessment of herself.  She massaged her throat with a sore foreleg, and worked her jaw slowly.  One after another, she stretched each wing.  Again, the limbs were sore, but not broken.  Her jaw was intact; the healing spell had repaired that broken bone.

“I’ll be fine with some rest,” she said, knowing full well the folly of being her own doctor.  She wanted to keep her assessment conservative, at least.  “I can move around slowly for now, but no action for a few days, if possible.”

“Thank you, Emberglow.  I want you to head, slowly, back to the marines’ barracks and find Sergeant Arrow.  The two of you will wait in my office.  You may tell her what happened if you wish, but none of the others, please.  I will see if I can find Bubblegum.  Turquoise, you head to the weather office, see if anypony there knows where Wind Storm is.  We’ll meet in my office in one hour.”  

The walk to the barracks was mud and misery.  Emberglow wanted to fly her way there, but she could hardly flap her wings in the state they were in.  When Bubblegum had launched herself on top of Emberglow, she’d mashed the pegasus’ wings down into an unnatural angle, straining the muscles and bones.  So instead, she trudged through streets that were filling up with mud.  

She remembered, weeks ago on the airship Lost Lamb, Gearsmith talking about how the delta Port Luminescence was built on sometimes flooding and spilling excess water into the muddy streets of the city.  It was as if the Diarchs themselves wanted to torture her.  Her hooves sunk past the fetlock in the soft earth, going in easy, but releasing with great effort, the suction dragging her down.  Her robes got filthy and sodden, dragging her down with water weight.  Her rune gauntlet quickly became caked with mud.

The guards at the military base looked as if they were about to say something to Emberglow as she approached; she looked like Tartarus, after all.  She hadn’t looked in a mirror, but she was sure she still had bruises on her face and neck, and she was covered in mud on top of everything else.  They said nothing, however, and she walked right into the barracks.

There were no soldiers in sight; they had all been given leave just like the Knights had.  Sergeant Arrow wasn’t in her office either, and Emberglow had no idea where she could be.  As a last resort, she went to the basement, where she knew Gadget had her workshop.  This time, both father and daughter were there.  One of Gearsmith’s cannons was disassembled on the highly organized workshop table.  

“Lady Emberglow, what…” Gadget began, trailing off as she took in the full shock of Emberglow’s disastrous appearance.

“Sorry, no time.  Do either of you know where I can find Sergeant Arrow?” she asked.  Gadget opened her mouth with a concerned expression, but her father interrupted before she could ask further.

“She has a home off base.  If she’s not there, we have no idea where to find her,” Gearsmith replied.  “Is there something we can do to help?”

“Can you take a message to her, please?” Emberglow asked.  Gearsmith nodded.  “I need her to meet me in Sir Delver’s office within an hour.  And no, I can’t tell you what this is all about.  Not yet.” Emberglow said.

“Are… are you okay?” Gadget asked, concern evident in her voice.  The light blue earth pony reached out to gently touch at one of the sore spots on Emberglow’s face, and she flinched in pain.

“No, I’m not, not really,” Emberglow said honestly.  “But I will be.  Now, please,”

“Of course, my lady,” Gearsmith said.  He was already standing.  Gadget nodded.

“Thank you both,” she replied.  She stepped away from the door to make room for the two earth ponies to pass.  “I’ll be in Delver’s office if something else comes up.”  As the two passed her, Gadget shot her a look that was both inquisitive and compassionately concerned.  It was gratifying, even with the distance Emberglow had been forced to cultivate between herself and her new earth pony friend.

Once inside Delver’s office, however, Emberglow felt the sudden onset of anxiety.  Having a goal, something to do, had managed to distract her for a few minutes, but alone in the empty room it all came closing in.  She positioned herself in the corner to wait, staring at the door while she sat and tapped her hooves together nervously.  There was nothing in Sir Delver’s spartan office to take her mind off of what had just happened.

Bubblegum and a griffon?  It was unthinkable.  But she had seen it with her own eyes.  What had been going through Bubblegum’s head?  She knew the law, she knew the consequences, and yet still she’d done the forbidden.  Surely, even a pony with no thoughts for the consequences of her actions wouldn’t go that far.  But Bubblegum had.  

Emberglow’s thoughts went in circles.  Did Bubblegum simply lack faith?  Or maybe she’d never believed at all.  Maybe… was she a heretic?

The idea was horrifying, turning Emberglow’s already churning stomach and sending a shiver of disgust down her fur.  Knights were supposed to be the best of the best.  The wisest, the most noble, the most righteous. Were there others like Bubblegum, hiding their sins, hiding their corruption, even within the holy Knighthood?

This was one of the ways heretics worked, from what Emberglow remembered from her lessons in the Ivy Seminary.  Division, strife, infighting, paranoia; these were all tools of the traitors.  Her breathing quickened as she thought about the implications.  Had she just been victim to some sort of heretic plot, to drive a wedge into their team?

She shivered again, and wished that Delver had something in his office to take her mind off her own thoughts.  A book, a painting, even something more interesting than a pair of polished rocks as paperweights.  The chandelier that lit the room was off at the moment, the only light coming from the narrow window.  She sat in the dark, her back in the corner, stewing in her turbulent thoughts, when the door opened.

“Sir Delver?  You wanted to see me?” Sergeant Arrow said, then looked around the room.

“He’s not back yet,” Emberglow said.

“Lady Emberglow!  You… uh…” the sergeant trailed off awkwardly.

“You can say it, sergeant.”

“You look worse than when the pirate captain blew you up,” the sergeant said frankly.  Emberglow laughed hollowly.

“Yeah, I get that.  I had my jaw broken and was strangled a bit.”

“What happened?  Gearsmith and Gadget didn’t say much about what was going on, only that you told them to come find me.” Sergeant Arrow said.

“I’ve only told the short version to the other Knights, and I’m sure Sir Delver will have more questions when he gets here.  I’d rather tell the whole thing only once,” she said.

“That bad?” Sergeant Arrow asked, and Emberglow winced and nodded.  “Okay then, ma’am.  Anything I can do in the meantime?  I could get you something for your pain.  Or something to drink.”  Alcohol did sound appealing, but there were important conversations coming up, and Emberglow wanted to be fully aware and rational.  Then inspiration struck, and she remembered another dark day and how she coped with it.

“I don’t suppose you could locate some hot chocolate?” she asked with a slight smile.  Sergeant Arrow looked at her funny.  “Sir Delver probably won’t be back for at least ten minutes.”

“I can check out the mess, see if they have anything,” Sergeant Arrow said.  Emberglow nodded.

“Coffee too, for anypony that doesn’t appreciate hot chocolate,” Emberglow said.  The sergeant nodded, and Emberglow realized she’d just sent a marine sergeant off like a common servant.  She was about to say something when the sergeant slipped out of the room with a smile.  Shrugging, she went back to her waiting.  

The first one back was Turquoise.  “You okay?” she asked as she came into the room, seeing the look on Emberglow’s face.  

“No,” Emberglow said simply, and Turquoise nodded.

“Pain?” Turquoise asked, and Emberglow shook her head.

“Not too bad,” she replied.  "I’m sore all over, but I’ve had worse.  Sergeant Arrow is on her way with coffee and hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate?” Turquoise sounded puzzled.  Emberglow grinned sheepishly.

“Yeah… back in Ivy Seminary, I had a bit of a meltdown once after a pair of bullies vandalized my room.  Hot chocolate was what the school nurse prescribed.  It’s kind of my personal ritual when things get dark.”

“I think I’ll join you with that,” Turquoise said fervently, slumping onto one of the cushions on the floor.  “I feel like having a bit of a meltdown myself.”

Sergeant Arrow came in next, carrying a tray with a half dozen cups.  She sat them down on the table.  Smells of both coffee and hot chocolate wafted from the steaming ceramic cups.

“Did she order you about like a butler?” Turquoise asked with a raised eyebrow.  Sergeant Arrow smiled shamelessly.

“Yes she did, Lady Turquoise.  And no shame to her for doing so.  I live to serve the Saints and their representatives.”  There was a twist of humor in the declaration, for all its sincerity.  “Besides, it looked like she needed it.”  The sergeant picked up one of the cups of coffee and began to sip, patiently waiting for Sir Delver with a serenity that Emberglow bitterly envied.

When he finally arrived, he looked exhausted.  His shoulders were slumped, and he immediately seized a cup of coffee with a grateful sort of sigh.  

“Are we just waiting on Lady Bubblegum now, sir?” Sergeant Arrow asked, and all three Knights cringed at once, with Delver choking on his coffee.  “Sir?” the sergeant wasn’t one to miss a reaction like that, especially shared by three ponies.

“Bubblegum won’t be joining us,” Delver said tiredly.  “Sergeant, this information doesn’t leave this room until I say so.  Understand?”

“Yes sir,” Sergeant Arrow replied, her posture stiffening as her voice became more formal, her face a mask of professionalism.

“As of this moment, I declare Knight Bubblegum stripped of rank and attainted, accused by credible witness of both bestiality and unprovoked assault and attempted murder of a fellow Knight.”

“Witnessed,” Turquoise replied sadly.

“W-witnessed,” Emberglow stammered.  Sergeant Arrow stared at the nightmare she was hearing, her professional mask broken.

“We’ll have to fill out the paperwork, but from now on, we are to consider Bubblegum a dangerous enemy.”  Delver looked at Sergeant Arrow sympathetically.  “I’m sorry to throw you into the deep end on this one, Sergeant.  Emberglow here accidentally observed Bubblegum in sexual congress with a griffon.  When Emberglow confronted Bubblegum, she was attacked, wounded, and nearly killed.”  He slumped down at his desk, propping up his head with his forehooves wearily.  “You’re here so we can coordinate our response.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Sergeant Arrow said, clearly disturbed.  She fumbled at her coffee, spilling a bit down her chin as she took a large gulp.  “Where is Bubblegum?”

“Nopony knows,” Delver said.  “I went to all the places she tends to visit when she has free time.  Xander, the owner of the gambling hall she hangs out at hasn’t seen her all day, nor did she show up at either of the cafés she likes.  I even galloped through the public gardens where Wind Storm sometimes takes her on dates.  No sign of her.  Turquoise?”

“I went to the weather office.  Nearly an hour ago, a griffon who works there, named Galileo, rushed into Wind Storm’s office.  The door was closed for the entire conversation, which lasted less than a minute.  Nopony overheard.  A few seconds later, the two of them rushed out together without saying anything to any of Wind Storm’s employees.  They were both wearing heavy saddlebags.  None of the other weather workers remembered either of them coming to work wearing the saddlebags.” Turquoise gave her report with a detached sort of sadness.

“Some kind of bugout bags?” Delver mused.  “It means they knew getting caught was a possibility.  Damn.  She’s been sleeping with the griffon for a long time, then.  And Wind Storm knew about it.”

“So do we need to investigate more?” Turquoise asked.  “Is that even our job?  Once you send in the report, Knight Command will want to send a Mystic.”  Nopony missed the shiver of fear that Sergeant Arrow gave.

“We will most likely be recalled and debriefed back in the capital.  I’d like to go back with as much information as possible, so until we’re ordered to do otherwise, we’re going to find out as much as we can about this affair, this ‘Galileo’ griffon, and whatever relationship he had with Bubblegum and Wind Storm.”  He lifted his muzzle from where it had been resting on his hooves.  “You don’t need to fear, Sergeant Arrow.  An investigation will be grueling and frustrating, but you’ve done nothing wrong.”  Sergeant Arrow blinked, and Emberglow saw there were tears in her eyes.

“You don’t know that, sir.  Sometimes, when the Mystics decide you’re guilty of something, they find something for you to be guilty of.  Maybe you don’t remember what it’s like being a normal pony.”  Delver’s look was stern, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Sergeant Arrow kept going.  “I know.  I know.  I’m sorry to talk bad about other Knights, sir, but you know this only ends badly for me and my marines.”  There was a fierceness to her tone.  “Damn her.  Damn her for doing this to us.  To me.”  The sergeant clenched her eyes shut and sniffed once.  “I’m sorry.  She was your friend, right?”

“Yes, she was,” Delver said, and the sadness was pronounced in his tone.  “Arrow, I don’t know how much I can promise.  But you and your marines took care of me and mine, and I’ll do my best to take care of you.  When they do come to investigate, the Mystics will know just how loyal and faithful you have all been.  I’ll do everything I can to make sure none of this falls on any of my ponies, besides the traitor who turned her back on us all.  I swear on Saint Rainbow the Faithful.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sergeant Arrow said.  “I know you mean it.”  She didn’t sound incredibly hopeful.

“We’ll need to tell the rest of the marines, at least,” Turquoise said.  “They’ll need to keep an eye out for Bubblegum, and know what to do if she shows her face again.  Windy and the griffon, too.”

“We don’t need to tell them everything, do we?” Emberglow asked.  “If Sergeant Arrow is worried about her marines being caught up in the fallout, maybe we keep them out of this as much as possible.”  Sergeant Arrow was already shaking her head.

“I’d rather not keep them in the dark, if it’s possible.  If they’re about to be investigated by inquisitors because of what Bubblegum did, I’d like them to be forewarned.”

“I’ll leave it up to your discretion how much you tell your ponies, Sergeant,” Delver said.  Sergeant Arrow nodded.  “As for us…” Delver let out a loud sigh.  “I’m going to send the report via enchanted dragonfire scroll.  If they decide to reply the same way, we’ll have a response by tomorrow evening.”  He opened one of his desk drawers, pulling out a sheet of the expensive, rare magical communication.  “Tomorrow, Emberglow will assist Turquoise in gathering information on the griffon, and anything we can sort out about Bubblegum.  That is, when she’s not doing her duties at the prison.  We’ll lock down Bubblegum’s house and Wind Storm’s office."

“Blingshine might take issue with us locking out an official government building without any explanation,” Turquoise said.  Delver sighed again.

“That’s right.  He’s already going to be upset with us,” Delver groaned.  “He and Emberglow had a bit of an altercation this afternoon.  It might cause us issues.  At least we won’t have to deal with him for long.  Odds are good we’re gonna be pulled out and reassigned after all this.”

“What kind of altercation?” Turquoise asked curiously.

“Blingshine wanted Emberglow to heal the pirate captain so he could keep torturing him beyond what he normally could have taken.  She put her hoof down.  It was pretty impressive,” Delver said.  His smile was small, but there was some real pride there.  It wasn’t much, but she needed a ray of sunshine in this nightmare of a day.  “He’s probably trying to come up with some petty way to torment us.  Unfortunately for him, we’ll probably all be gone by the middle of next week.”

“You said that before.  What do you mean?” Emberglow asked.

“If a Knight is accused or convicted of a crime, they usually move the unit he or she was a part of, whether or not they had anything to do with it.  You can expect to say goodbye to Port Luminescence, Emberglow.”

“I’ll manage to contain my sorrow,” Emberglow said, and Turquoise snorted, nearly spewing out the mouthful of hot chocolate she’d just taken.

“What?” Turquoise said when everypony stared at her.  “Emberglow isn’t usually sarcastic.  It took me by surprise, is all.”

The four ponies took a somber moment, silently drinking their hot chocolate and coffee, waiting for somepony else to say something first.  Nopony felt comfortable talking.

“I… just want to go home and go to bed,” Emberglow finally said out loud, her ears slumping.  “Is that lazy?”

“No.  Not tonight,” Delver said.  “You’re recovering.  Get some sleep, you can meet up with Turquoise after you feed the prisoners.”

Unsurprisingly, despite how tired she was, Emberglow didn’t sleep much that night.


*   *   *   *   *


The orders had, as Delver had predicted, come via enchanted dragon scroll the next evening.  They were to stay in Port Luminescence until after the execution of the zebra pirates, then take an overnight airship back to New Canterlot City.  A Knight Vigilant and a Knight Mystic were on route to investigate things in the port, while the Knights and marines would be debriefed in the capital.  

Blingshine didn’t even kick up a fuss when Delver showed up at his manor and ordered the weather office closed as a crime scene.  The governor was surely burning with questions, but Delver had simply informed him that they were soon to be replaced by a Knight Detective and a Knight Inquisitor.  It had been enough to nearly give the slimy politician a stroke on the spot, and none of the Knights saw him again until Zuberi’s last day alive.  Emberglow felt a grim sort of satisfaction imagining the governor in a panic at the thought that these new Knights might be coming to investigate him.

Unlike in the capital, executions in Port Luminescence were a public affair.  There was a large plaza, lined with temporary wooden bleachers, situated just outside the jail.  The gibbet was a permanent structure, though it hadn't seen much use in Emberglow's time here. She had imagined it was more a threat of the governor’s authority than a practical execution tool.  

Today, however, the suspended platform was decorated by eight oiled nooses hanging from the crossbar.  Thirteen steps led up to the platform, a simple structure containing two hinged trapdoors held up by a pair of loose posts in the middle.  Once the condemned were arranged and noosed on the trapdoor, the executioner would knock away one of the posts with a large sledge, leaving the prisoners to drop to their doom.  

It also had the advantage of putting on quite the show for the bloodthirsty audience coming to watch.  It made Emberglow sick to think of the ponies coming to be entertained by the executions, but there had always been those lowlifes who’d gotten a thrill out of mocking the poor souls trapped in the pillories.  She supposed no matter where she was, there were always ponies motivated by their baser instincts.  She just wanted it all to be over.

At least for the last two days the pirates hadn’t heckled her when she had gone to feed them.  There had even been a few reluctant words of gratitude as she had passed them down their daily soup and bread.  

Zuberi hadn’t said much more to her besides a single request to speak with Sir Delver.  She’d acquiesced and requested his presence.  Zuberi’s request had been simple.  Could he write a letter and have it sent to New Canterlot City as his last words?

“You know it won’t pass the censors.  Whatever you write will be opened and read, most likely by inquisitors of the Knights Mystic,” Delver had explained.  The zebra pirate captain had simply shrugged and written his letter anyways.  It was currently in an unsealed envelope, sitting on Delver’s desk.  Nopony had wanted to read it just yet.

Emberglow arrived at the execution grounds long before most other ponies had started to gather; she hadn’t wanted to deal with any crowds.  She needn’t have worried; there was a VIP section of bleachers set aside for the Knights, the governor, and other important ponies who merited a front row seat at the death of a group of condemned criminals.  

She pretended not to hear the crowds filtering in behind her, the vendors hawking carnival foods, the gawkers and rubberneckers gossiping and chattering about the zebras and ponies who would die today.  The VIP section was sectioned off with a decorative velvet rope.  It made Emberglow irrationally angry; she wanted to rip it out of the ground and throw it into the ocean.

“Hard to feel good about an execution, isn’t it?” came a voice from beside her.  Turquoise had stepped up and sat down on the bench next to Emberglow while she was lost in thought.

“Justice has to be done,” Emberglow said, ashamed at just how uncertain she sounded.

“There’s justice, then there’s barbarism,” Turquoise noted, waving a hoof to the crowd behind her.  “Yeah, these pirates deserve to die.  But I don’t think it’s sinful to feel upset at the necessity of it all.”

“I think… I think it’s just been a really rough week,” Emberglow said softly, and Turquoise looked at her.  They shared a spontaneous laugh at the obvious understatement, a moment of desperate humor tinged with the release of the tension Emberglow had been feeling.

“No kidding,” Turquoise said.  She sighed.  “Despite the circumstances, I think I’m going to be glad to be home after all this.  No more mud, no more sailors, no more sea air.  I’ve had enough sea air for a while.”

“You get to spend more time on your pet project, at least,” Emberglow said, and Turquoise smiled faintly.

“Yes, it’ll be good to see what progress has been made in my absence.  I… hang on,” Turquoise cut off as the door to the prison opened dramatically.  Several guards emerged, dragging behind them a row of ponies and zebras chained together by a long metal chain threaded through the sets of shackles that bound their legs.  The guards were using long staves to clear a path through the crowd, none too gently, towards the gallows.  “Duty calls.”

“Doesn’t Port Luminescence have its own Confessors?” Emberglow asked.

“Nopony wanted this task,” Turquoise said with a shrug.  “I volunteered.  Somepony needs to at least offer them absolution and repentance before they die.  Besides, they were our prisoners.”  She suddenly nuzzled Emberglow’s cheek.  “Maybe your kindness inspired me.”  She trotted off towards the guards, who recognized her by her pink robes and allowed her in the front of the grim procession.  

A surge of noise came from the crowd; boos and jeers as the assembled common ponies heckled the condemned.  Their hatred was obvious, but it made Emberglow wonder.  Were they just booing because they had really been harmed by the pirates, or was it just the impassioned surging of a mob?

Bringing up the rear of the procession was Blingshine himself, dressed up in tight black pants and an overly ruffled white shirt, complete with a blue overcoat that was far too ostentatious to be tactful.  He didn’t walk, but rather hovered, about two feet off the muddy path, gliding along with gentle flaps of his wings.  His face was pleased and haughty; casual arrogance was plastered all over his muzzle.  

Emberglow just wanted to hit him in his smug mouth.  

The pegasus governor left the procession as they passed the VIP bleachers, floating up so that he hovered in sight of the entire crowd.  With a wave, he greeted all of the assembled ponies, receiving a wave of cheering in return.  After he was done bathing in their adulation, he came to a gentle landing right next to Emberglow.  He smelled of body odor and perfume.  

She very deliberately stood up and moved two pony-lengths away from the governor, who smirked.  Emberglow didn’t care if she offended the pompous pony; she’d be on an airship out of the Port before the day was done.

The chained pirates approached the long staircase up to the gallows platform.  The first pirate, a zebra, managed to give the structure a contemptuous look before the guards began to drag him up the stairs.  Every pony chained in the line followed, with Zuberi at the rear.  Turquoise was already standing at the top of the platform, her own face a mask of calm serenity.  Each of the pirates reacted differently to the gallows, some with contempt, some with the laughter of gallows humor, some with rage and rebellion.  Not a single one showed any fear.  Captain Zuberi ignored the gallows as if they weren’t even there, stepping up the steps as if they were an obstacle beneath his notice.

Soon, the eight pirates were positioned beneath the dangling nooses that would take their lives.  Two executioners, a griffon and a pony both wearing dark hoods to conceal their identities, moved among the prisoners, detaching the chain that held them all in a line together and reattaching a short chain to the shackles that held their four hooves.  It would bind their hooves so they would be unable to interfere with the nooses.  Then, one by one, each of the condemned had the knotted loop slipped over their heads and tightened around their necks.  The prisoners stared forward, some blankly, most defiantly, as the executioners did their work.

Finally it was Turquoise’s turn to do her duty.  Emberglow was too far away to hear what the older mare was saying, but the Knight Jubilant approached each of the prisoners in turn, asking if they had any final statements or confessions to make.  The zebras just snorted contemptuously at the Knight, which wasn’t too surprising; after all, they were infidels.  The ponies among them had an even angrier reaction.  A few yelled at her, one spat at her hooves.  Turquoise didn’t react, but just went down the line until she reached Zuberi.  At the end of the line, he was the closest to Emberglow and the VIP stands.  She perked her ears towards the pirate, hoping to catch what was said.

“Do you have any confession you wish to make, prisoner?” Turquoise asked.

“Not to you, you brainwashed shrew,” the pirate said, his eyes slipping over Turquoise as they sought out Emberglow in the stands below him. 

As his eyes met hers, she saw no fear, only an odd sort of pity. She shivered slightly, but couldn’t look away as he spoke loud and clear. “For your kindness I’ll tell you this, the path you’ve chosen in life is a miss.  Finding out the truth will make you mourn, for the burden is hard to be borne.”  With that, he nodded serenely to Turquoise.  The guards slipped a black cloth sack over Zuberi’s head, blocking him off from the world.  Every one of the prisoners was similarly hooded.  A guard stepped to the front of the gallows, holding a scroll.

The official order of execution was long, legal sounding, and Emberglow didn’t hear a word of it.  Her gaze was locked on Zuberi, standing shackled, hooded, and noosed, and yet somehow still proud.  His last words hadn’t been too shocking.  Of course one of the unbelievers like the zebra would think her life choices were mistakes.  At the same time, though, he had been surprisingly sure of himself, even in the face of death. 

She shook herself out of the thoughts, drawing her attention back to the present. The executioners had finished preparing their victims and had moved below the platforms, to where the long wooden pillars stuck in the ground held up the trap doors.  The guard reading the death warrant, and put the scroll away in his saddlebags.  Once he was safely off the trapdoor, he respectfully motioned for Turquoise.

“May you make better choices in your next life.  Saints have mercy on you,” Turquoise said.  “Executioners, do your duty.”

Underneath the trapdoor, both executioners had picked up their heavy metal sledges.  The griffon swung first, his sledge connecting with the post with a hard thud.  The post jerked, sliding just an inch as the platform above jerked.  

The four pirates standing on this platform flinched, and Emberglow could hear one of them cry out in terror.  Finally, the crowd had gotten a reaction they were hoping for; they jeered and laughed.  The earth pony went next, his sledge striking the post with a thump strong enough to send up slivers of wood.  This strike managed to knock the post loose, and it clattered to the ground.

The hinged platform suddenly dropped out from under four of the pirates.  More than one of them gave cries of fear, before a sudden and very dramatic crack echoed over the clattering of wood.  Emberglow flinched, her eyes clenching shut.  She didn’t want to watch this.  Her ears pinned back, but she couldn’t stifle the sounds. She was sure she could hear the creaking of the stretched nooses over the jeers of the crowd.  Then she heard the sound of metal on wood.  The executioners were knocking at the other pillar.

She opened her eyes to look in time to see the second wooden post clatter to the ground, releasing the trap door.  This time she couldn’t flinch away quickly enough.  

Four pirates dropped, their chained hooves dangling below them, only to come to a stop as the ropes ended their momentum.  There was a crack, and four pony necks twisted unnaturally.  Each of the pirates dangled in midair, hooves twitching, bodies twisting gently from the drop. 

It was too much. She felt the bile rise in her throat. The mental image of the bodies twisting and jerking in the wind burned behind her suddenly clenched eyelids.  They all wore the black hoods of the condemned, but in her imagination she could see their faces, eyes open, frozen in eternal horror and pain. 

It was all such a wretched waste, and Emberglow had been utterly powerless to change any of it.  She wanted to mourn, but didn’t even know who or what she’d be mourning for. Who would mourn a heretic’s death? She was a Knight — shouldn’t this have been her moment of grand victory?

Suddenly it all became too much. The grisly images floating in her mind’s eye; the rowdy mob, cheering at death; her own feelings of inadequacy and wrongness. It was all just too much. With a confused whimper of disgust and shame, she ran behind the bleachers, where less ponies would see her empty her stomach.  Some small, cowardly part of herself desperately wished she could stay there forever, away from the crowd, away from the heretics, away from this cruel, destructive world.

But when she closed her eyes, all she saw was eight bodies, hanging limply, twitching and swaying in the wind.
> Interlude: Technicalities
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: Technicalities


            	Astrolabe yawned as she checked the train station wall clock for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes.  The train was late.  Normally she wouldn’t have minded, but it was three twenty-nine in the morning. Astrolabe needed to be in bed at least four hours ago.  

It had been a long day in the hospital. Umbrella Surprise Memorial Hospital was a military medical center located an hour’s train ride back from the border to the Dragonlands. It wasn’t the busiest hospital in the Diarchy — but being the only Radiant stationed there, her days tended to be long and full.  Not that she minded. Busy hours kept her from thinking too hard about certain things.

            	Like your constant sinful thoughts.  Like how you’re a failure.  Like how you’ve never been able to apply a single bit of Falling Foehn’s advice.  Like how you’re now supposed to be a mentor to a younger Knight, showing her the ropes while you barely know what you’re doing.

Pretender.

            	She shook her head violently to banish her mother’s judgemental voice and tried instead to focus on anything else at all.  She started counting floor tiles; the train station was clean but badly in need of repairs. Astrolabe tried to see if she could count how many cracked tiles needed replacement.  She wished desperately for somepony to talk to, but at the early hour, the station was silent as a tomb.

            	Astrolabe was at seventy-three when she heard the sound of an approaching train.  She glanced up at the clock; sixteen minutes late wasn’t too bad, she supposed.  She took a deep breath and slapped her face with her hooves lightly a few times, trying to wake herself up to present the best possible face to the brand new Radiant who was arriving to serve as her partner in the hospital.

            	The train pulled into the platform, and Astrolabe stood and trotted over to the doors, wiping her bleary eyes on the sleeve of her white robes.  Oh well; at least the train was here finally. She’d be heading back to sleep as soon as the new mare was off the train.

            	The train screeched to a stop and the door slid open, revealing a shockingly familiar face wearing white robes.  A two-tone blonde mane, reminiscent of gently waving grain, framed a beautiful face with sparkling yellow eyes and an oddly embarrassed smirk.   Astrolabe couldn’t help as her jaw dropped.

            	“Green Fields!  It’s… er… how… wha?” Astrolabe stammered.  Green Fields giggled, stepping off the train and throwing her hooves eagerly around her.  Astrolabe froze in shock.

            	“It’s good to see you too, silly,” Green Fields laughed.  

Astrolabe’s heart was pounding in her chest.  She was sure her old friend could hear it.  Fear and joy, ecstasy and trepidation, filled her to the brim.

            	Why is she here?  Is she a torment sent straight from the Saints?  You’re tainted, you’re weak, you’re going to slip up and give into temptation again, aren’t you?

Or maybe you were just a fling, just a toy to be used and thrown away?  And she’s here to trip you and toss you down in the mud, where you belong.  You’d never really be good enough for her anyways.

            	It took almost a full second for Astrolabe to resume the mask she wore at times; the one that hid the broiling mass of sin and crazy that went on in her head, usually in her late mother’s voice.  “Sorry,” she said shakily.  “I didn’t know what to—“ she took a deep breath.  “I mean, I’m just so surprised.  You never said what Order you were going to join.  I was sure you’d be in the Adamant.”

            	“That was the plan, originally.” Green Fields let go of her friend, with a look of brief reluctance.  “But when you told me you were joining the Radiant, I decided to tag along.”  She beamed, and Astrolabe’s heart beat even faster even as she once again felt a fake smile spread her lips.

            	“How did you end up stationed with me, then?” Astrolabe asked.  Behind them, the train doors slid closed and Astrolabe winced.  “Sorry.  I don't mean to interrogate you on a train platform.  C’mon, we can talk while we head back to the hospital.”

            	“Thanks.  It was a long ride, and I’d like to stretch my legs.”  Green Field took a moment to arch her spine and stretch.

            	Don’t ogle her, don’t think about that stuff, don’t remember that night, it never happened, it was a fluke, she’ll never—

            	“As to how I ended up here, well, I have my 'family connections' to thank for that,” Green Fields made air quotes with her hooves when she said it.  “I wanted to serve with you, after all.  That’s the whole reason I joined the Radiant, really.”

            	It was the second time she’d said something like that.  Astrolabe wondered what it meant with a guilty thrill of pleasure.

            	“Well, follow me, I’ll show you to the hospital,” Astrolabe said.  “I think it’s past my bedtime.”

            	“Of course,” Green Fields said.  “Sorry you had to wake up just to come meet me.  I thought it would be the hospital administrator.”  The two mares stepped out of the station into the dark night.

            	Good.  It’ll be too dark for her to see your sinful lust painted all over your face.  She won’t be able to notice your leering eyes.

            	“I volunteered,” Astrolabe said, her voice full of admiration.  “Lady Stiletto should be retired, but she refused even a medical release from the Knights Adamant, despite having only two remaining legs.  They put her in charge as the hospital administrator.  I do the physical tasks, but she’s a genius with paperwork and personnel, and she really knows how to squeeze a bit.”  

            	“Wow.  Well, at least you’ll have help now, right?” Green Fields said cheerfully, bumping Astrolabe with her flank.

            	“Y-yeah, it’ll be nice.” Astrolabe tried to ignore the heat filling her face from the close contact. “Um, as long as you’ve studied up on your healing spells for burns.”

            	“Wow, are they that common?” Green Fields asked, pausing only briefly before answering her own question.  “I guess they would be; we’re close to the battle lines with the dragons, after all.”

            	“Yes, most of our work is long-term care for soldiers wounded by claws or burns.”  Astrolabe trotted her way through the small village of Lasthoof (really just a supply depot and a few odd houses and stores near the end of the train line, as well as the hospital) while Green Fields followed.

            	“Not teeth?” Green Fields asked.

            	Astrolabe shook her head, then remembered that it was probably too dark to see.  “Not really.  Most ponies who get that close to a dragon’s mouth don’t make it back to the hospital for long-term care.”

            	“Oh.” Green Fields sounded sick.

            	“It’s not too bad.  We only see them after first aid and triage.”  Astrolabe tried to make her voice comforting.

            	“Oh, I realize that,” Green Fields said.  “I read as much about your hospital when they assigned me here.  I just don’t like to see ponies suffering.”

            	It was a sentiment Astrolabe was surprised to hear from Green Fields.

            	Neither of you were so quick to feel that way when you were tormenting sponsorships back at the Ivy Seminary.  You knew Green was wrong, and you went along with things anyways.

            	“I…” she paused.  “Um—“

            	“Go ahead,” Green Fields sounded a little amused.  “I know you want to ask.”

            	“What happened?  You changed.”

            	“Does it bother you that I changed?” Green Fields sounded plaintive.

            	“No!” Astrolabe almost yelped.  “You just didn’t go into a lot of details.  It’s nice, though.”

            	“So I wasn’t nice before?” Green Fields teased.  When Astrolabe stammered nervously, looking for something to say, Green Fields laughed.  “Don’t worry.  I know I wasn’t.  And I hope I changed enough.”

            	Enough for what?

            	“What happened?” Astrolabe tried not to wonder what she meant.  She tried to ignore the rush of joy she felt, or the impossible implications that filled her imagination.

            	“At first, I was so angry,” Green Fields said with a shameful sigh.  “I blamed Emberglow, for sure.  I spent hours boiling in my own rage.  How dare that jumped up little common trash get in the way of my goals?”  Her voice was bitter.  “I was even angry at you.  We were both guilty, but I got punished and you got away.”

            	“Sorry,” Astrolabe mumbled.  She felt her face heating up with shame.

            	“Don’t be.  I was a bitch.  I needed a firm kick in the flank.”  She snorted.  “My great-grandpa stepped in and wouldn’t let me reapply for the Seminary until I’d ‘proved myself a better pony’.  He said I needed some serious humbling before I could try again.  He was right.”

            	“What did he do?” Astrolabe hated how nervous she felt.  Green Fields was her dearest friend, and she was sounding like a completely different pony.

            	Dearest friend?  That’s not what your sinful thoughts want her to be.  You greedy nag, you want more, don’t you?  Shame on you.

            	“He sent me to prison.” Green Fields stated simply.  Astrolabe made a shocked sort of yelp, and Green Fields giggled.  “Not as a prisoner, silly filly.  I was a reluctant volunteer, working under the Knights Vigilant who ran the prison.”

            	“What were you doing?”

            	“Mostly I worked in the kitchen, but I also helped with the rehabilitation and reeducation efforts.  I’ll tell you more about it later, if you want.  But it was what I needed.  Humbling, just like Grandpa Fields wanted.  I reapplied, became a Squire, and took my vows.  Now here I am, with you.”

            	You like how that sounds way too much.

            	“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” Astrolabe tried not to sound too happy.

            	Of course you’re happy.  Green Fields is here now.  You don’t have to think for yourself anymore, you can just fall into step behind your boss again.  Be her perfect flunky, her minion.  Just like Emberglow said.  Even if Green Fields has changed, it doesn’t matter. You’re still going to be a limp noodle, indecisive and weak.

            	“So this will be weird, with you being my boss,” Green Fields said, and Astrolabe stumbled in the darkness.  It was like Green Fields could read her thoughts.  “Don’t worry, ma’am.  I’m good at following orders.”  She giggled again, but there was enough earnestness in her tone that Astrolabe had to believe her.

            	She’s really serious.  Saints, doesn’t she know you at all?  You’re weak, indecisive, stupid.  You can’t make your own decisions.  You’re spilling over with sinful lust for your best friend, and you hang onto a memory you should have abandoned ages ago.  She’ll never love you.  She can’t love you.  That night was a mistake, created by smuggled alcohol and curiosity.  It will never happen again.  And when she realizes all that, you’re doomed.

            	“Astrolabe.” Green Fields’ voice was full of warning.  “Asty.”  Astrolabe’s heart leapt at the affectionate nickname.  “You’re doing that thing.  You know, where you get lost in your own thoughts.  And they’re never good ones.”

            	“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Astrolabe huffed.  Her mask was slipping. That was bad, especially in front of Green Fields. 

Fortunately, the hospital building loomed in front of the mares, providing a convenient interruption to a conversation that had suddenly grown very uncomfortable.  “Here we are.”

            	Unlike the rest of the village, the hospital still had several lights on.  It was always open late into the night; ponies’ health didn’t bother with silly things like daylight hours, and neither did the Knights and staff at the hospital.  Astrolabe trotted up to the front doors and pushed them open.  She didn’t turn to look at Green Fields; she was terrified to see her face.

            	Coward.  Liar.

            	“Lady Astrolabe!” The night shift nurse, a pegasus stallion named Cool Relief, greeted her as she entered.  “Is this our new Knight?”

            	“Yes, Nurse Cool.  This is Lady Green Fields.”  The two ponies shook hooves.  “How are things in the hospital?  Anything I need to look into?”

            	“Everypony is stable at the moment,” he replied.  Astrolabe hadn’t expected much more; they didn’t usually deal with emergency cases at this hospital, but sometimes things happened.  “You can probably head to bed.”

            	“Thank you, Nurse.  This way, Green Fields.”

            	Past the check in station was a long hallway full of patient rooms.  Astrolabe had converted one of them into her own personal bedroom; she didn’t need much.

            	You could have had more than a converted hospital room, if you’d only fought for yourself.  Weak.  Useless.

            	“I-I didn’t ask Stiletto for your own room.  I didn’t know it was you, but I have plenty of space.  I assumed, because of our Oaths of Poverty, that you wouldn’t mind sharing a room.”

            	“Just like old times?” Green Fields smirked.  Astrolabe swallowed nervously, her mind flooding with memories that filled her with lust and regret.

            	You’re disgusting.  You know she wasn’t talking about those old times.

            	“Yeah,” Astrolabe laughed, silently praying that Green Fields didn’t realize how fake she probably sounded.  They reached her room, and she opened the door.  “I had a second bed moved in.  There’s a desk and a dresser for you as well.”

            	“It’s perfect.  I’m sharing a room with you, after all.” Green Fields blushed when she spoke, and Astrolabe looked away.

            	You’re pathetic.

            	“Well, come in,” Astrolabe said.  “We should probably sleep.” There was no way she was going to be able to sleep. “We can catch up more in the morning.”  She somehow managed to smile at Green Fields.  “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re here.”

            	“Me too,” Green Fields’ smile was radiant, and Astrolabe’s stomach started doing backflips.  She gently closed the door behind them and trotted over to her bed, setting her saddlebags down at the hoof.  Her smile faltered.  “Um, Asty?  I have to ask you something.”  She was whispering, and one hoof rubbed against the other nervously.  She turned to face Astrolabe.  “You didn’t forget, did you?”  Her voice was the merest breath, barely audible, and her question made Astrolabe’s heart do backflips.

            	“No,” Astrolabe whimpered desperately.  Of course she would never forget.  How could she forget the feel of Green Fields embrace?  The softness of her lips, the touch of her hooves, both passionate and gentle at the same time.  The smell of her mane, the feel of her velvet fur.  The quiet, needful little noises she made in her passion.  Those things were burned into Astrolabe’s memory, permanently etched in stark detail.  “I…”

            	“You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to!”  Green Fields cried.  Her eyes were wet.  “If you want, we can keep pretending we did forget.  I’ll never mention it again.  I promise.”

            	“But I thought…” Astrolabe began, confused and hurting.  She didn’t want to forget.  She didn’t want to pretend.  She’d never wanted that to begin with.  She looked for the words, and they didn’t come.

            	“I know what I said.” Green Fields slashed at the air with a hoof, dismissively.  “I was stupid.  Afraid.  I didn’t understand how I felt.  What I was.  I thought, maybe if I pretended, chasing after stallions like I was supposed to, maybe then I would change.”

            	“Green…”  Astrolabe had stepped forward, until she was nearly nose to nose with her oldest friend.

            	“I didn’t change, Asty.  I didn’t forget.  I didn’t want to forget.  I know it’s sinful, but I don’t care.  Our oath was that we wouldn’t take a mate, and two mares can’t reproduce, so maybe…” she seemed to realize what she was trying to justify, and trailed off.  Astrolabe could barely hear her words over her beating heart. “What I know, who I am, how I feel about you… how can that be bad?”  Green Fields shuddered, tears leaking from her eyes to flow down her cheeks.  “But I’ll pretend, if you want me to.  Just tell me what to do, Astrolabe.”

            	Hah.  She’s given you all the power.  Doesn’t she realize how stupid that is?  You could never make a decision.  You could never take the lead.  You could never…

            	Astrolabe lifted one hoof, resting it on Green Fields’ chest.  Green Fields let out a soft yelp of surprise as Astrolabe shoved her backwards onto her bed.  With slow, deliberate carefulness, she followed, climbing on top of Green Fields, with her hooves on either side of the other mare’s head.  Ruthlessly Astrolabe crushed the voice in her head, forcing silent every doubt, every insecurity, every fear, and every hint of guilt.

            	“A-Asty?” Green Fields stammered.

            	“Hush,” Astrolabe ordered, and pressed her lips against her lover’s.
> Chapter 15
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 15


Official Death Warrant for Knight Bubblegum


Be it known to all Knights of the Five Holy Orders:



Knight Bubblegum, formerly of the Adamant, is hereby attainted and stripped of all rank and privilege associated with Knighthood.



She is accused of high crimes as follows:



Illegal sexual congress with a non-pony creature.



Assault of a fellow Knight.



Violation of the Sacred Vows of Knighthood.



These crimes were witnessed by Knights of good standing.



For these and other crimes, we declare her forsworn, outcast, and a traitor.  She is condemned to death.  We hereby absolve all guilt of the actions of any pony or ponies who puts her to death.  Her name is accursed and her deeds are evil.  Any who gives her comfort or aid stands condemned of treason and heresy.  



Signed,



Knight Lieutenant Delver Deep



Witnessed,



Knight Lieutenant Turquoise



Knight Private Emberglow


Personal correspondence, from condemned prisoner Zuberi the Zebra (Black-and-White Beard) addressed to Peridot Shine, Knights Adamant (deceased).  Letter forwarded to Steadfast Word, Knights Mystic.

	She is out of your reach, and she is thriving.  You lose.

	Signed,

	Zuberi

1112 AF, New Canterlot City

The air over New Canterlot City was unseasonably cold.  Chilly northeastern winds were blowing in over the city, bringing wispy clouds that dusted the air with snow flurries.  From the airship, Emberglow could see a team of weather pegasi flitting about the clouds, trying to break them up, or even just push back the larger ones. Emberglow wasn’t close enough to be sure, but she imagined she could see the frantic looks on their faces as they battled the snow clouds. It was, after all, early fall; still far too soon for snow in the city.

They passed over the City Fairgrounds on their way down to the airship docks, and Emberglow saw the very beginnings of the giant effigy being built.  It was traditional on Nightmare Night for much of the city to gather and watch as a straw effigy of the great heretic, Sunset Shimmer, was burned.  Ponies said the bonfire brought the warmth of the Saints to the entire city for weeks to come.  Emberglow shivered.  She could sure use a bit of warmth right now.

As the airship circled into the docks for a landing, Emberglow waited for the sense of relief at their homecoming.  Instead, there was only a hollowness, a grim foreboding for what was coming.  She was not looking forward to the hours, or perhaps even days, of interrogations and debriefings that were probably coming.  She spent the last few minutes of the airship’s landing in a funk, her mood perfectly mirroring the overcast skies.  When the ship was finally safely docked, she trotted down the gangplank with a sigh, alongside the other morose Knights.

There was a contingent of four Knights waiting for Emberglow, Turquoise, and Delver as soon as they disembarked the airship.  While intimidating, it was somewhat gratifying that none of the four were wearing armor, dressed in the robes of their Orders instead.  There were two Knights Mystic, a single Knight Jubilant, and much to Emberglow’s pleasure, the familiar figure of Lady Mercy Song, wearing the white of the Radiant.

“Sir Delver?” one of the Mystics, a green pegasus mare, spoke up with a smile.  “I am Hollybright.  If you and your ponies would follow me, please?”  She was very polite, but Emberglow was sure that it wasn’t really a request.  “I’m sure your journey has been long and trying, but Command wants the three of you debriefed as soon as possible.  We’re here to escort you to the Star Shine building.”  The mare grinned.  “Don’t worry.  We’ve prepared something for you all to eat once you get there.”

“Thank you, Hollybright,” Delver said.  “It has been a long few days, so let’s get this over with as quickly as possible.”  Behind them, a second group of Knights Mystic arrived to escort the marines to their own debriefing.  From what she could overhear, it was less politely worded requests, and more orders for the marines.  Sergeant Arrow followed, her face a mask of grim resignation.  Emberglow said a silent prayer for the marines, begging the Saints to keep them safe.

The Star Shine Memorial Building had never been such a source of intimidation for Emberglow. She’d often marvelled at the ancient construction, or taken solace in the shadows of its towering walls before her appointments with her sponsor, Steadfast Word.  Today, though, the fortress-like architecture, once a symbol of comfort and safety, took on a more sinister aspect. The walls loomed over her, unyielding and cold.

“We’re going to be upstairs, on the second floor.  There’s a suite prepared for you to rest while we have our interviews,” Hollybright said cheerfully.  The group dutifully trooped up the stairs where, indeed, there was a comfortable conference room laid out with a light buffet on a large central table, surrounded by pillows.

“Sir Gentle Stone and Lady Mercy Song are here to ensure that you are all healed and uninjured from your ordeal.  I’ve been told that Mercy specifically requested this opportunity to reconnect with a friend.”  She smiled at Emberglow, and Mercy waved.  “We’ll start with Sir Delver.  I’ll have to ask that none of you discuss the incidents in question with each other.  I realize the cat’s probably already out of that bag, but rules are rules.  Sir Delver?” she asked, her voice raising at the end in a polite invitation, opening one of the side doors.  The other Mystic entered the room first, and Delver followed.  With one last smile, Hollybright followed behind him, closing the door behind her.  

“It’s so good to see you, Emberglow,” Mercy said, as soon as the door was closed.  The elegant Knight Radiant approached Emberglow and took her in her hooves in a tight hug.  

Emberglow realized with a start that it had been a while since she’d seen Mercy Song; Emberglow had grown, and now the two mares were the same height. It felt a little odd. 

“I just wish it were under better circumstances,” Mercy continued.  “You had a hard time on your first mission, didn’t you, sister?”  

Emberglow opened her mouth to answer, then looked at the closed door to the interview room.  With a small smile, she nodded towards the room and made a zipping lip motion with one hoof.  

“I know, you’re not supposed to talk about it.  That’s fine.”  Mercy Song nodded.  “Anyway, I read in my report that you were injured recently.  I need to look you over, if that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Emberglow said.  She was mostly healed from her fight with Bubblegum, but there was still an ache in her wings from the sprain, and a rasp in her throat when she spoke.  These issues were quickly healed by the skilled Radiant, replacing days of soreness with the sudden sharp pain of magical healing. There was an old sort of familiarity to Mercy’s magical touch, and Emberglow felt herself relaxing with a sigh.

“Now, we can’t talk about what happened, but you can tell me about your adventure on the seas,” Mercy Song said, sitting down at one of the pillows.  “Come, eat.  Relax, as much as you can.”

It turned out that statement was truer than Emberglow would have thought.  There was a tenseness in her that no amount of crudité or fresh-squeezed orange juice would resolve.  It didn’t help as she slowly figured out that Mercy Song and the Knight Jubilant, Gentle Stone, were both there to assess their physical and mental conditions, rather than for purely social purposes.  Honestly, Emberglow didn’t mind at all, but until she could actually talk about them with somepony friendly, she didn’t think the marathon of her running thoughts would ever stop.

“I feel I have to warn you, Emberglow,” Mercy Song whispered, casting a nervous glance at the door Delver and the Mystics had disappeared into.  It broke Emberglow out of her own jumbled thoughts to hear the note of worry in the usually serene mare's voice.  “Hollybright seems nice on the surface, but I’m getting a very strange vibe from her.  She’s like a hawk that’s spotted wounded prey.”  She paused, seeming to choose her next words carefully.  “You know some Mystics seem to smell heresy before there’s even any evidence.”  Emberglow stared at her, glancing back and forth between her and the closed door.  She didn’t know that, really.  Her only experience with Mystics had been Steadfast, who had never behaved that way.

“What do you mean?” Emberglow asked, suddenly even more anxious than she had been before.

Mercy’s smile was thin.  “Always be careful when dealing with the Mystics, Emberglow.  It is their job to be suspicious of everypony, all the time.  Maybe Steadfast Word has spoiled you, but he’s one of the nicer ones.”

“What do I do, then?” Emberglow thought back at all the conversations she had with Steadfast.  Mercy could be right about her being spoiled; she’d never seen that sort of paranoia from him.

“Be honest, and keep your cool.  She’ll try to push your buttons, or put you off balance.”

“I’ll do my best,” Emberglow promised before lapsing into an uncomfortable silence to wait.

The interview with Delver dragged on, though now she had the added worry of Mercy Song’s suspicions.  As the time crawled by, Emberglow became decidedly antsy, pacing around the room in worried circles.  Boredom and anxiety made a poor mix, and the long wait stoked those feelings until she was nearly vibrating with nervous energy.  Turquoise was much more relaxed, at least on the surface, but Emberglow could tell her old mentor was tired of waiting.

Finally, after three hours, the door to the interview room opened, and Hollybright stepped out. Emberglow felt she could almost explode from the combined relief and panic that swept over her. 

“Knight Emberglow, you’re next,” Hollybright said, motioning to the open door, and Emberglow’s heart leapt in nervous fear.

The interview room was simple.  A desk, adorned with nothing save an odd centerpiece made from a single quartz crystal the size of a tangerine, sat in the middle of the room covered with papers.  Emberglow recognized some of the reports she and Delver had sent back about Bubblegum and her crimes.  There was a small end table near the door, set up with a pitcher of water and a few cups.  The walls were bare, and the room was lit brightly by electric lights hanging down from the ceiling.

There were three pillows for sitting in the room; one was occupied by the other Mystic, an earth pony stallion whose name she hadn’t learned yet.  He was wearing a rune gauntlet, and held a quill in the other hoof.  He was scribbling notes on another sheet of paper.    

“Have a seat, Emberglow,” Hollybright said, motioning to the lone pillow on one side of the table.  “Get comfortable.  This might take a while.”

“Of course,” Emberglow said, as she sat.  Hollybright also arranged herself on the other side of the table, and made a bit of a show of shuffling the papers around while she looked for a particular report.  Emberglow tried not to stare, but watched closely for a hint of what Mercy Song had mentioned.  Maybe she was imagining things, but there was something to what Mercy had said; Hollybright’s smile was just a little too wide, too fake.  Her eyes were shifty, darting about, watching without trying to look like she was watching too closely.  

“This is Sir Coal Shadow.  He will be taking notes while you and I speak, okay?” Hollybright said, and Emberglow nodded.  “Now, I want to start at the incident that led you to Bubblegum’s house.  Tell me about the argument between you and Blingshine in the prison.”

It was not where Emberglow had expected the questioning to begin.  With some hesitation, she began telling the story, beginning with Blingshine’s repulsive request, her own refusal, and Delver’s silent support.

“Do you feel like you made a wise choice?” Hollybright asked, her voice light and far too innocent.  “Your actions may have lost us an important tool in Port Luminescence.  It may take months for future Knights to undo the damage you have done with your rash decision.”

“It was the right decision,” Emberglow kept her voice even, despite the surge of anger she felt at Hollybright’s suggestion.  “What he was asking for violates the spirit of what Lady Rarity stands for.  I wouldn’t betray my Saint like that.”  Hollybright sat back slightly, holding her hooves up to placate her.

“I’m sure you felt that way at the time.  I was just asking about the advisability of your decisions.” Again her voice was far too innocent, but there was a hint of triumph, as if she were pleased she’d teased a reaction out of Emberglow.

“I stand by what I did,” Emberglow replied, trying not to sound defensive.  Hollybright nodded and smiled.

“If you say so.” Hollybright said.  Emberglow hated the cheerful little smile on her face; it was a mask that let nothing of what was inside out.  “Let’s move on.  After you alienated the governor, what happened next?”  

Emberglow continued the story, telling about flying off to Bubblegum’s house, about knocking, about how there had been no response.  She described the house, stopping every so often when Hollybright asked to clarify a detail or expand on a statement.  Even the smallest of details seemed important to the Knight Mystic.  Emberglow didn’t question it, she simply tried to answer every question as thoroughly as she could.  Finally she got to the part when she walked into Bubblegum’s bedroom.

“I’m sorry if the details are a little unclear here,” Emberglow apologized.  “I was in shock.  I still am, a bit.  You have to understand, this came out of nowhere.”

“Of course, Emberglow.  Just tell me what you remember.” Hollybright somehow still held that infuriating smile.  

Emberglow continued her story.  She told of stepping into the room, the horror at seeing her fellow Knight underneath the griffon, their naked bodies carnally entwined.  At some point in the story she had to stand, taking a short break to get a cup of water from the side table by the door.  Even with Mercy Song’s healing, her voice still felt hoarse.  She moved on to the escape, the brief, desperate conversation Bubblegum had had with her griffon lover, and the fight afterwards.

“You had your rune gauntlet with you.  Didn’t you think to cast spells?” Hollybright asked.  Emberglow shook her head.

“No, I didn’t,” she answered.  “To be honest, I was completely shaken.  I never expected what happened, and I think, somewhere deep inside, I didn’t quite believe that she’d ever even attack me.  I wasn’t ready for what happened.”

“Of course,” Hollybright said gently.  “Continue, please.”  Emberglow told her of the end of the fight, with Bubblegum sobbing her apologies as she strangled Emberglow into unconsciousness on the bed.  She told about waking up, and the meeting afterwards with Sergeant Arrow.  When she finished, Hollybright paused for a moment for her assistant to catch up on his notes before asking more questions.

“Now, I’m going to ask some difficult questions here, Emberglow.  Please answer them as honestly as possible,” the inquisitor said.  Emberglow nodded warily, her ears drooping slightly.  “I need to know as much about Bubblegum as possible.  My impression is that she always had a loose relationship with propriety and decorum.”

“That’s certainly true,” Emberglow said with a snort.  “I don’t think she had any sort of respect for authority, or the chain of command.  I think the only Knight she had any regard for was Delver.”

“Why is that, do you think?” Hollybright asked.

“I believe they were friends.  Delver was devastated when it all happened.  We all felt betrayed, but I think he felt personally betrayed by a friend.”

“Interesting,” Hollybright said.  “How would you characterize the relationship between Bubblegum and Sir Delver?”

“Friendly.  He seemed to understand her peculiarities, and she actually listened to his instructions and orders.”

“Did he encourage her insubordination towards other figures of authority?” Hollybright asked.

“Not that I saw,” Emberglow said carefully.

“We believe she had been engaging in her illicit relationship with Galileo the griffon for several months.  It seems unlikely to me that Delver had no hint whatsoever of what was happening.  Tell me, do you believe it is possible she was doing something for him in exchange for his silence on the subject?”

Emberglow stared at the inquisitor, floored by the implication.  Bubblegum, bribing Delver for his silence?  There was no way.  It was a disgusting idea, and her ears pinned back in anger as she nearly rose to her hooves.

“No chance at all,” Emberglow said firmly.  It was nearly a snarl.  Hollybright raised her eyebrows in skeptical judgement.

“Are you sure?  Your loyalty does you credit, Emberglow, but you didn’t know either of those ponies for very long.  By all reports, Bubblegum was a very sexual creature.  Perhaps she was using her wiles to charm or seduce Sir Delver.”

“I…” Emberglow fought against the urge to rail and yell at the Knight Mystic, and actually forced herself to pause and consider the possibility.  Hollybright smiled her aggravating smile, giving Emberglow a moment to think.  

She supposed Hollybright was right; Emberglow didn’t know either of the Knight Adamants very well.  In fact, while on Lady Elegant, she had deliberately avoided Bubblegum as much as possible, despite sharing a cabin on the ship with her.  “I suppose it might be possible,” she began slowly, hating every word as they left her mouth.  “But very unlikely.  That’s the sort of plan that requires thinking ahead.  Planning for consequences.  Bubblegum didn’t strike me as a mare very capable of much foresight.”

“But she did have a backup plan for if she were caught,” Hollybright countered.  “Wind Storm and Galileo were prepared with bugout bags.”

“I don’t know, but I would guess that she wasn’t the brains behind their back up plan,” Emberglow said.  “She seemed the kind of mare to leave the planning to other, smarter ponies.”

“Okay,” Hollybright said.  “Let’s move on from that for now, though.  I want to talk about your own sexuality.”

Emberglow felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped down her back.  Of course she should have realized that the Knights Mystic would have access to everything, including files of her confidential conversations with her Confessors over the years.  She shouldn’t have been surprised, but this was not a conversation she was prepared to have.  It was obvious that Hollybright’s goal had been to set her off balance.  There was a clear satisfied smirk to her smile as Emberglow mentally stumbled for an appropriate response.

“I don’t know how it will help your investigation, but I’ll help however I can,” Emberglow replied, her heart pounding with a terror she tried not to let show.  “You should note in my Confessor’s file, which I’m sure you’ve seen, that I’m non-practicing.”  That was the same phrase used in the medical file she’d seen for Gadget.

“Are you?  Hmm,” Hollybright said, still smiling.  Emberglow suppressed a shiver.  “I’ve already established that the three of you were responsible for your teammate.  You should have been aware of the path she was walking down, and maybe even stopped it before it got too far.  I think, if you look deep within yourself, you will recognize that maybe none of you did quite enough to protect her from herself.”

“I… well maybe, but…”

“So to follow up that thought,” Hollybright continued, ignoring Emberglow’s stuttering.  “I need to know what role, if any, you believe your own perversion may have played in Bubblegum’s corruptive decisions?”

“What?” Emberglow cried, gaping.  “None whatsoever!  How could you… why would you even… I don’t even…”

Both of the Knights Mystic glanced at the crystal in the center of the table, before looking back at Emberglow.  It took the momentum out of Emberglow’s shock and outrage, as she wondered what was so special about the crystal.  

“I don’t even think Bubblegum was really aware that I’m gay,” Emberglow said.  Saying the words out loud was strange and alien; she rarely if ever discussed her sexuality out loud.  “I certainly never told her about it.  I keep it private, as you should know if you read my file.”

Again the two ponies glanced at the crystal.  Emberglow looked at it herself.  It was an unpolished quartz crystal, set in a simple round wooden setting.  It was a cloudy white with blue imperfections.  There was nothing special about it that Emberglow could see.  She looked back at Hollybright.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is going to help your investigation much,” Emberglow said.  “I’m still happy to answer whatever you want, though.”  With that, the crystal in the center of the table began to glow a gentle blue light.  The two Knights looked at each other, and Hollybright giggled.

“You’re not exactly happy to be here, are you?” she said, looking at the crystal, which began to fade, losing its glow.  Suddenly Emberglow understood.

“That crystal… you’ve cast Moonbeam’s Truthful Aura on the crystal!” she exclaimed.  “Let me clear something up for you, then.”  She leaned far over so that she was speaking directly to the quartz.  “I had no idea what Bubblegum was doing.  I don’t believe anything I did contributed to her choices.  Me being gay had nothing to do with Bubblegum’s bestiality.”  The crystal remained quiescent.

If Emberglow had thought that would fully satisfy the Mystics, however, she was mistaken.  Their conversation still continued for another hour, with Hollybright grilling her over every little thing.  It was quite the relief to finally be invited to leave, albeit by a somewhat grudging Hollybright.  She exited into the conference room and its much diminished buffet.

“Thank you, Lady Emberglow.  You are under strict orders not to leave yet, in case we have any follow up questions after we are done interviewing Lady Turquoise,” Hollybright said.  Her demeanor had lost it’s friendly facade, replaced by a grumpy sternness.

“Actually, Lady Hollybright, do you mind if Emberglow and I use the other interview room?” Mercy Song asked.  Hollybright considered this for a moment, then nodded.  “I assume your earlier restrictions on conversation are lifted.”  Again, Hollybright nodded, this time a bit more reluctantly.  Mercy Song clopped her hooves together happily.  “Thank you!  Come with me, Emberglow!” the Knight said excitedly.  Emberglow followed her into the second interview room.

This one was not as prepared as the first one; the table lacked the paperwork of the other, and there were no pillows, pitchers of water, or enchanted crystals.  Mercy Song took a look around, and  with an impatient sigh, trotted back into the conference room and snagged a few of the pillows there to drag into the empty interview room.  The two old friends then sat down.

“So, how are you?” Mercy asked, once the door was closed.  It was clear she wasn’t just asking about Emberglow’s physical wellness.

“I’ve been better,” Emberglow said tiredly.  It meant the world to her to see Mercy Song’s sympathetic smile.  Here there was no obligation to watch what she said, to curb her speech.  There was none of the uncomfortable paranoia she had felt while talking to Hollybright.  “I was the medical officer on duty for the hanging of eight pirates.  It was just days after what happened with Bubblegum.  I don’t think I’ve been coping all that well, to be honest.”

“How so?” Mercy Song asked.

“I didn’t do well at the execution.  After the trapdoor dropped and the… um… prisoners dropped, I had to go throw up before I could verify that the prisoners had died.”

“And?” Mercy asked.

“What do you mean, ‘and’?” Emberglow asked miserably.  “I’m a failure as a doctor, Mercy.  What kind of medic can’t even stand to look at death?  What happens when things get worse?  Saint’s mercy, these were hardened criminals!  Murderers!  They deserved to die, Mercy.  But I couldn’t even look without getting sick.”

“A failure as a doctor, Emberglow?  You might be being a little overdramatic,” Mercy said.  “I don’t think anypony with an ounce of compassion wouldn’t balk at watching a brutal execution like that, and you have quite a bit more than an ounce.  There is nothing wrong with you, Emberglow.  You’re a perfectly good doctor, and throwing up at a sight like that doesn’t make you any less of one.”

“But I’m supposed to be more than just a doctor,” Emberglow continued.  “I became a Knight to protect and heal, not to end life.”

“I know,” Mercy Song said soothingly.  “I won’t sugar coat it, Emberglow.  As a Knight Radiant, you’ve a fine line to walk.  You are called to defend the weak from the enemies of the Diarchy, and to heal the wounds and sicknesses of its citizens.  Sometimes a surgeon has to use his tools to cut out the tumorous or necrotic tissue.”  She sighed, reaching over to gently touch Emberglow’s cheek.  “And some ponies just don’t enjoy performing surgery.  That’s not to say they’re not skilled at it when they have to be.  And that’s fine, Emberglow.”

“Some Knight I am, that struggles with watching death like that.  I’m supposed to be able to deal it to our enemies.”

“Nopony is perfect at everything, Emberglow.  You know that.  You’re being too critical of yourself,” Mercy Song said.  

“I’m not the only one who’s being critical of me,” Emberglow said, her voice nearly a whisper.  Mercy’s ears perked towards Emberglow’s voice; the wise older mare knew what she meant.

“What did the Knight Mystic imply, Emberglow?”

That opened the door, and Emberglow clenched her suddenly wet eyes shut.  

“She said…” Emberglow whispered, her voice coming out harsh.  “She said it was our fault.  Our responsibility that Bubblegum did what she did.  If we had been more faithful, if we had been more vigilant.  Maybe if we hadn’t been full of sin and corruption…”

“Emberglow.  Stop it now.  The Mystics are just doing their job, looking for every angle on this thing.  You know you’re not responsible for the decisions of that idiot traitor, Emberglow.”  Mercy Song had come around the table and circled Emberglow about with her hooves.  She was warm, and her fur was soft.  Her robes smelled of fresh detergent.  

“But what if she’s right?”  Emberglow whined, hating how much like a foal she sounded.  She burned with shame and anger as she dragged the next words out of her mouth.  “They asked me if they thought my… if they thought my being gay had anything to do with it.”  She’d never told Mercy Song.  She’d never told her parents, or Turquoise.  She was terrified.  

Mercy Song was clearly surprised; she gave a little gasp; the hoof she held up to her lips in shock would have been comical, if it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation. “Oh.  Oh Emberglow, I’m so sorry she asked that,” she said.

“You’re not…”

“Not what, Emberglow?  Afraid?  Judgmental?  Disgusted?”  Mercy shook her head.  “You’re not the first mare to join the Radiant because the Saints gave her this trial.  I’ve met several myself.  You have been blessed with a sore trial which will only make you stronger as you overcome it.  You have chosen a noble way to face your challenge, Emberglow, and I only respect you all the more for it.”

“Thank you, Mercy,” Emberglow breathed.  “You have no idea what it means to hear that.”

The conversation faded into safer territory, and the mares spoke about superficial things; Emberglow hadn’t had a chance to write her best friend Lofty as much as she’d liked during her brief stay in the Port, and Mercy had kept in touch with her former squire.  They also spoke about other things; Mercy had recently accepted a position teaching at the Ivy Seminary.  There was a dire need for more Knights Radiant, and Knight Command thought that having more Radiants as teachers at the Seminary might lead to more mares considering the order as an option.  They were lost in their conversation, and didn’t even realize the hours passing until there was a knock on their interview door.  

“Are you two finished?” Turquoise asked as she poked her head in the room.  “Hollybright says we are done for the day.”

“Just for the day?” Emberglow asked, though she still felt buoyed by her earlier conversation with Mercy Song.

“We’ve been ordered not to leave New Canterlot City, but otherwise are on leave until further notice.  I don’t think they’ll need us more, but we’ll see.  For now, I’m tired of this building.  I’m going to make sure they haven’t cleared out my old quarters while I was gone,” Turquoise said.

“What about you, Emberglow?  Would you like to walk back to Diamond Home with me?” Mercy Song asked. Emberglow shook her head.

“No, I’d like to check in with my parents.” Emberglow had only spent a month at the Radiant’s New Canterlot City headquarters, just after her Knighting, and she would much rather sleep in a more familiar bed  “With how weird things became as soon as the ship got back to Port Luminescence, I only had time for one letter, and I wasn’t able to let them know I was coming home.  I’d like to surprise them."

“I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.  You’ll be spending the night there, then?”

“I hope so,” Emberglow said.  “They don’t exactly know I’m coming home, so I don’t want to impose my company if they can’t have me for some reason.”

“They’re your parents, Emberglow.  Your mom is going to be ecstatic.  Go home and surprise them.  I’ve been asked to tell you that you’re officially unassigned for at least a week.  You have nothing to do but stay in town and be on hand for if the Mystics need to speak with you again.  If I may suggest, however, you should probably check in at Diamond Home sometime during the week, if only to let them know where to find you if they have any messages.” Mercy Song gave Emberglow one last hug, and the group of ponies filtered out of the Star Shine Building.  Emberglow said her goodbyes to Delver, Mercy, and Turquoise, before trotting off in the familiar direction of home.  Soon her trot became a gallop.  After her talk with Mercy, Emberglow thought the comfort of her childhood home might be just what she needed.

It was the first time she’d been home since she took the oath of Knighthood.  Her parents had always come to see her, like at the airship dock, rather than the other way round.  It felt weird walking down this street; her life was so different, so changed now from when she had lived on Emerald Street that she expected the street to have changed as well.  It had, in a way.  

There were the same shops, the same locals, the same sights and smells and sounds.  But the ponies had changed.  Rather than cheerful waves and polite greetings, she received nervous bows and shuffling out of her way.  These were ponies she’d known for years, and they didn’t even seem to recognize her.  If they did, they didn’t show it, slipping out of her way like water parting before the prow of Lady Elegant.  The streets were busy and a little crowded, but Emberglow never had to step around ponies, and never felt the need to spread her wings and take to the air.

The biggest change, however, was Oak Chip’s shop.  It was closed, with boarded windows.  The beautiful, hoof-carved sign was missing, and there was a broken window that had been hastily covered with cardboard.  All of the other ponies nearby were ignoring the shop as if it didn’t exist.  Emberglow trotted closer, noting the ‘for sale’ sign in one of the unbroken windows.  She looked around for somepony to ask about her friend, but none of the ponies around would meet her gaze.  Emberglow wasn’t always the best at picking up social ques, but it was clear nopony wanted to think about this boarded up storefront, let alone tell her about it.  Oh well; her parents would know where Oak Chips was.  Emberglow wasn’t too worried about the gruff old pony.  He was far too cranky to die, after all.  He said so himself, frequently.

Emberglow trotted next door to her family’s shop.  The bell over the door announced her entrance into a storefront that was full of ponies browsing the wares.  Needle Point was minding the til, and she didn’t even look up from the customer she was helping when she called out.

“Welcome to Needle Point Textiles, be with you in a minute!”

“I can wait,” Emberglow called back, grinning.  Of course, her mother instantly recognized her voice.  With a cute shriek of joy, she leaped over the counter and shoved her way between the shoppers into Emberglow’s hooves.  The customers looked up in indignation, but nopony was willing to say something that might offend a Knight.  Rank did have its privileges.  “Hi, mom.”

“Oh my gosh Embergl… ahem.  I mean, Lady Emberglow.  Your last letter didn’t say you’d be coming back so soon, I only just got it yesterday!” her mother gushed, squeezing her with all the strength of her earth pony hooves.  Emberglow giggled like a filly.  This was exactly why she’d needed to come home.

“There was a bit of a change of plans,” she hedged, not wanting to burden her parents with the whole story just yet.  Certainly not in a room full of her parents’ customers.  Emberglow watched as a perceptive frown of concern clouded her mother’s previously jubilant expression, complete with a fierce flashing of her eyes.  Emberglow shook her head.  “Not now.  Later.”  Needle Point nodded slowly, looking uncertain, but Emberglow smiled reassuringly.  “You need to see to your customers.  Need any help?”

The idea of a Knight, wearing her official robes of office, standing around doing customer service in a tiny tailor’s shop clearly bothered Emberglow’s mother, and she was quick to shake her head frantically in denial, much to Emberglow’s amusement.

“No.  No thank you, Lady Emberglow.  You can head back into the back room and talk to your father.  I’ll help the customers out here.  It’s so good to see you, sweetie.”  Her mom giggled again.  “Lady Sweetie.”

Oh by all the Saints, it was nice to hear that endearment from her mother.  

“Okay mom, be nice to the customers.  I’ll go say hi to dad.”

The back room was still the same.  Textile sat at a sewing machine, his back to the door, working on a pair of suit pants.  He had a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose, and was concentrating on some fine detail.

“Needle Point, honey?  Did you need something?” he asked without looking up.

“Well, there are a lot of customers in the store.  And apparently a Knight just walked in,” Emberglow said, unable to resist the opportunity to tease her father.

“What!  Oh!  Emberglow!  You’re home!” her father said, shutting off the machine and turning around.  Emberglow smiled; though the greeting lacked the sheer enthusiasm of her mother’s hug, the love in her father’s eyes was just as good.

“I had some unexpected leave,” she said.  “You don’t mind that I came home to visit, do you?”

“Of course not.  You’re staying the night?” it was almost a statement, not a question.

“If you’ll have me,” she said.  Her father gave her a stern look, gazing at her over the rim of his glasses.

“Emberglow, this is your home.  You will always be welcome, you know that.”  The words filled her with warmth.

“Okay, but I’m helping in the shop until you close,” she insisted.  He looked like he wanted to protest, but she gave him a mock stern look and he subsided with a low chuckle. 

Since Emberglow had learned sewing as a foal, she asked for a list of simple repairs and alterations that she knew she could do herself, and banished her father from the room so he could help her mom while Emberglow did the backroom tasks.  It was comforting to fall into familiar patterns; fix this stitch, hem these pants, add a patch or a repair here.  She lost herself in the labor, letting the ambient sounds of the shop outside the door soothe her into a near trance of relaxing labor.  

In the end, her parents did close an hour early.  Emberglow insisted she wanted nothing more special than a night at home with her parents, but they wanted to treat her, so she graciously allowed it.  Textile prepared her favorite (pancakes and strawberries for dinner) and they shared the first family dinner in months.  It was all incredibly pleasant and comfortable, until she asked about Oak Chips.

“So, I noticed that Oak Chip’s store is closed.  What happened to him?” she asked.  Her parents froze.  Textile was in the middle of chewing a bite of pancake, and he stopped suddenly.  Needle Point had been raising a fork to her mouth, and she actually dropped the fork and the bite, the utensil clattering against the ceramic plate with a loud clatter.  Both of her parents glanced at each other, then down at their food.  “What?” Emberglow was confused.

“We’d rather not talk about it,” Needle Point muttered, earning a hard look from her husband.

“Talk about what?  Mom, what happened to him?” Emberglow asked, a feeling of alarm rising in her.

“Two weeks ago he vanished,” Textile said softly.

“Vanished?  Without a trace?  Did anypony call the constables?  The Vigilant?”

“Lady Emberglow, it was Knights that took him,” her father said, his voice rather formal.  “He didn’t just vanish.  He was vanished.”  

With that simple statement, Emberglow instantly understood several things.  Oak Chips had been arrested by the Mystics, most likely for some form of heresy.  When a pony was ‘vanished’, they weren’t arrested publicly.  Nopony was supposed to witness the act of vanishing a pony.  Ponies even tried to pretend that those who had been vanished had never existed at all, lest they too draw the inquisitive eye of the Mystics	

The formality of her father’s tone, and the use of her title, also spoke to the gulf that had now grown between Emberglow and her parents.  It was surprising, and a little sad, to know that she had been lucky enough to raise her station in life and society, while in a way leaving them behind her, and beneath her.  The moment broke her heart a little.  Even though she’d chosen this path, she’d never considered the collateral damage it would deal to her relationships.

“I’m sorry I asked, then,” Emberglow said carefully.  She could feel the fear and tension in the room, and some of it was even directed at her, if the nervous glances Needle Point was shooting at her were any indication. Logically, it made sense; she was a Knight now, she was different from them, and separate.  If they asked too many questions, showed too much interest in a disappeared pony like Oak Chips, it would be Knights like Emberglow that came for them, too.  She was on the other side.

“What are you apologizing for, Lady Sweetie?” her mother said, managing to keep most of the nervousness out of her voice.

“Nothing at all, mom,” Emberglow said.  She was perfectly happy pretending the conversation had never happened.

“So we weren’t expecting you back from pirate hunting yet.” Needle Point’s voice still held a bit of her earlier discomfort.  “What brought you home early?  We only got your last letter yesterday.  It said you were in a battle!”

This was something she could seize onto.  A thrilling tale of adventure on the high seas, deliberately edited to exclude the morally difficult moments, and with the conclusion already known, so her mother didn’t have to worry too much.  

Emberglow told her parents about Lady Elegant and her captain, about the ill-fated ship’s cook, Tangerine, and even about the frustrating yet combat-skilled Bubblegum.  She found herself getting into the storytelling, playing up the heroism of the other ponies, especially Delver and the marines.  It was fun, and Needle Point was nervous without being too nervous; after all, the events were past and done.

She described the sights and smells of battle, how she had felt, and the fear that had burned in her as she’d faced off against the unicorn and her shield.  She told them about the face off in the hold of the pirate ship, and Zuberi locking himself in the brig with the gunpowder.  She was trying to downplay her own role, but she didn’t bother to downplay the spell she had cast that had saved all four knights, and the captain (accidentally) from the blast that had eventually sunk the pirate ship.  Her parents made appropriately impressed noises.

“What happened after you got back to the Port?” her mother asked, when Emberglow finished the tale with Lady Elegant limping back to Port Luminescence.  

“That part of the story is much less interesting,” Emberglow said, a bit uncomfortably.  There was nothing she wanted less than to tell them about what happened to Bubblegum.  

She wasn’t under explicit orders not to share what had happened, but the gulf that had grown between her and her parents reared its ugly maw again; Bubblegum was a Knight.  Disgraced and sentenced to death, of course, but still one of the family.  Her new family.  She was a part of a world that her parents weren’t involved with.  Telling them about the disgraced Knight felt like airing too much dirty laundry in front of her parents; it was not appropriate.  

“There was an execution of the prisoners, of course.  I had to oversee it and pronounce their deaths.  That part… wasn’t nice.”  She shuddered.  This she could talk about, however unpleasant it was.

Needle Point and Textile were appropriately sympathetic to her struggles at the hanging, of course.  Textile even understood her issues, having dealt with death on and off the battlefield in his own experiences in the military.  The conversation became so involved that Emberglow’s mother forgot to ask why she’d come home so unexpectedly.  When it did come out that she’d had an overnight flight, followed by a lengthy debriefing (Emberglow implied the debriefing had been in regards to the pirate battle, a small deception that still made her feel dirty) her mother insisted she get some rest.  Her bedroom, of course, was untouched.

“I only ever go in there to dust, sweetie.  All of your things are just like you left them.  Your bed is even made.  We’ll let you rest.  You have to go in the morning?”

“Yes, I have some errands to run,” Emberglow said honestly.  If anypony knew how she’d have to go about finding out about a ‘vanished’ pony, it would be somepony in the Vigilant or the Mystic.  Good thing she had contacts in both; though this wasn’t something she wanted to bring up with Steadfast Word unless she absolutely had to.  She’d been meaning to visit Lofty Tale as soon as possible anyways, though.  “I would like to stay for breakfast, however.”

“As long as it’s something other than pancakes,” her mother said chidingly.  “They’re not everypony’s favorite.”

“Anything will be fine, mom,” Emberglow assured her mother as she left her alone in her bedroom.  She didn’t have much trouble falling asleep that night, surrounded by the comforts of home and warm, familiar bedding.

The next morning she shared breakfast with her parents: grapefruit with eggs and toast.  She bid them goodbye and set off for the Hall of the Upright, the headquarters for the Knights Vigilant.  Today, there were a few ponies in the stocks in front of the justice building.  Idly Emberglow wondered who would be feeding them today.  She also thought about how many, just like July Blaze or Zuberi, would be twitching, bound, at the end of a rope around their neck.  She tried not to shudder at the thought.

There were several Knights Vigilant around, dressed in either their orange robes or their orange armor.  Emberglow looked around, hoping to happen upon her friend, but she had no such luck.  She entered the front doors and approached the reception desk in the center of the wide entry hall.

“May I help you, ma'am?” the secretary, an earth pony stallion dressed in civilian clothing sitting behind the desk.

“Yes, you may.  My name is Lady Emberglow.  I’m a friend of Knight Lofty Tale, but I have no idea where he’s currently stationed except that he’s been assigned to this building.  I have some free time and I was hoping to reconnect with him.  Can you tell me where his office is? ”

“Knight Lofty Tale, ma’am?  He’s on the fifth floor, office number five-oh-nine.”

“A private office?  He’s come up in the world,” Emberglow said with a smile.

“Sir Lofty is one of our most talented investigators, Lady Emberglow,” the secretary said with a grin.  It made sense that Lofty was popular with the civilian staff; he had always been charismatic.  She thanked him for the information and moved up the stairs towards the fifth floor.

The doors of each office were made of wood, with a nameplate next to each door.  She found Lofty Tale’s office easily enough, and smirked to see that it indeed was labeled with his name and rank.  She reached out and tapped on the door with her hoof.

“Come in!” came Lofty’s voice from inside the office.  “You’re early, Gimlet.  Did you have any luck…” Emberglow turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.  “Oh!  Emberglow!  You’re not Sir Gimlet.”

“Nope, I’m not,” Emberglow said cheerfully as she stepped into her friend’s office.  “Hi, Lofty.”

Lofty Tale’s office was an explosion of paperwork.  There were three bulletin boards hanging from the walls, each one full of dozens of pins.  The boards were full of newspaper articles, sketches of various ponies and locations, and even the odd photograph.  He had a desk, which was also stacked with papers.  There were two picture frames on the desk, and Emberglow was gratified to see a photo of Lofty and herself, still in their squire robes, taken just after they had reconciled as friends after their falling out.  The other was a picture of Lofty standing next to two unfamiliar mares, both dressed in high society dresses, while Lofty wore a suit.  The walls were covered by the bulletin boards and a large glass window that let in plenty of sunlight.  The room was lit by the sun, but Emberglow saw a shaded electric light installed in the center of the office, in the ceiling.  Lofty stood, rising from the pillow he was sitting on behind his desk and dashed around to embrace his best friend.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Lofty said.  “You never said you’d be coming back so soon.”

“My assignment ended rather abruptly when I happened upon one of my teammate Knights in bed with a griffon.”

“What?” Lofty chuckled.  “That’s a laugh, Emberglow.”  He released the hug, finally catching the look in her eyes.  “Oh, Saints.  You’re serious.  Really?  A griffon?  And they were…”

“I saw the whole thing.  They were definitely…” Emberglow took a deep breath.  Talking about sex made her uncomfortable.  “He was mounting her.  They were naked.”

“Wow.  So what happened?” he asked.  “Wait, why are we standing in the doorway?  Have a seat.” Lofty absently motioned behind him.

Emberglow’s gaze followed his hoof to a stack of papers piled on the floor. She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh.”  He grinned sheepishly, and gently shifted the papers to the side onto the floor to reveal a pillow.  Emberglow laughed as she sat.

“Well, I surprised them, we argued, and the griffon escaped while she attacked me.  You remember how good I am in a fight, so you can guess how that ended.”

“Poorly?” Lofty asked with a smirk.  Emberglow nodded.

“Well, I don’t remember much, but there was some strangling involved, and involuntary unconsciousness…” Emberglow grinned.  She didn’t understand why, but there was something comforting about joking with her friend about one of the most upsetting things she’d ever experienced.  “You can guess what happened next.  We were recalled, and I spent some quality time having a rather unpleasant chat with a Knight Mystic yesterday.”

“Makes sense.” Lofty nodded.  “No new assignment?”

“Not yet,” Emberglow said.  “I’m on free time.  Are you busy?  I kinda have a favor to ask.”

“Of course!” Lofty .  “Anything for a friend. What do you need?”

“I want to know what the best way is to find out about a pony who’s been arrested while I was gone,” Emberglow asked.  Lofty looked puzzled.

“Well, you’d need an arrest number at the very least.  The name of the arresting constable may help, or even the precinct he or she was taken to.”  It was interesting the way he immediately changed gears, becoming businesslike.  It was impressive, really, reminding her that he was one of the youngest investigators in the history of the Vigilant.

“What if this wasn’t an official arrest?” Emberglow said slowly, wondering what his keen and observant mind would make of all this.

“What do you mean, like an illegal arrest?” Lofty screwed his face up in confusion.

“No.  This pony was vanished.  Probably by Knights Mystic.”

“You’re looking into the arrest of a heretic?” Lofty asked, gaping slightly.  “Emberglow, that’s…” he trailed off, pausing while he eyed her. “That’s a little different.  Dangerous, even. How much do you know about the jurisdictional rivalry that goes on between the Vigilant and the Mystic?”

“Nothing, really,” Emberglow said, a little sheepishly.

“I see.  Well, the Mystics and Vigilant are both law enforcement arms of the Knights, right?  But there’s a bit of overlap when it comes to heresy.  Technically, the Mystics are in charge of investigating heresy, which includes unicorns.  Vigilants are in charge of making arrests and running trials.  So what happens when a Mystic wishes to arrest a heretic, but for reasons of their investigation, doesn’t want that arrest to be public?  All criminals are entitled to a trial, but what if that trial would reveal details of ongoing investigations?  What if the heretic might still have useful information?  The Mystics claim to have discretionary powers in those circumstances to perpetually detain those suspected heretics, even to try them in secret and even perform punishment.  This sometimes steps on the hooves of us Vigilants, who believe we have the sole power to try cases and execute judgement.”

“That sounds complicated.”  Emberglow’s muzzle wrinkled in disgust.  She had always hated the element of politics that seemed to float like a miasma over the Knight Orders.

“It can get complicated, yeah.  Most of the time, if the Vigilant find evidence of heresy when investigating other crimes, we usually try to get in touch with the Mystics to investigate side by side.  Jurisdictional pissing matches are easier to avoid that way, though the Mystics rarely offer us the same courtesy.”  He paused, and his voice lost the businesslike character.  “Um, Emberlgow, this is dangerous territory.”

“So how would I go about finding out what happened to this pony?” Emberglow asked, ignoring his obvious concern.

He sighed, eyeing her before answering.  “There might have been an arrest record if the Mystics got in touch with one of us, but I doubt it.  You may have to ask your Mystic friend.  Although it’s possible, because you are a Knight as well, that you could just request the information at the Star Shine building,” Lofty said.  “So, who is this mystery pony?”

“You’ve met him.  It’s Oak Chips, my next door neighbor.  He’s the one who dragged you off the street when you were…” Emberglow trailed off, embarrassed on behalf of her friend.  It was clear from the displeasure on his face he didn’t want to remember the encounter either.  “He made toys for children.  Wooden carvings, mostly.  Dolls and such.  He was so kind, I just…” she paused for thought, taking a breath.  “I just have to know what he did.  If it was heresy, I just need to know why.  He was such a kind pony, smart and clever and full of life.  I need to understand what he did, and why.”

“Emberglow, you know I love you, right?” Lofty said warily.  Emberglow nodded.  “This line of questioning could get you in trouble.  You know that, right?  If you push hard on this, you’ll make enemies, and you’ll have the attention of ponies you don’t want that kind of attention from.”

“I don’t think there could be any harm in just asking questions.  I just want to know what happened, is all.  If he was a heretic, he earned what he deserved.  I’m not arguing that.  I just want to hear the full story.”

“Okay.  I had to warn you so you know what you were getting into.  I’d start with a simple request at the Star Shine building.  If your friend was just arrested for heresy, and nothing stranger is going on, then I don’t see why they wouldn’t tell a fellow Knight.  I’d even drop the name of your sponsor.  If that doesn’t get you what you want…” Lofty sighed.  “If that doesn’t work, it might not be worth pushing.”

“Lofty, you know me,” Emberglow smiled, trying to sound more confident than she felt.  “I never give up.”

“Is it worth it?” Lofty asked.

“I won’t know until I ask the questions, will I?” Emberglow admitted.  “Thank you, Lofty.  Sorry to take up your time with heavy stuff.”

“You don’t have to leave just yet, do you?” Lofty asked.  “Let’s get lunch.  There’s a nice café a few blocks away, the chef is a genius with zucchini.  I’ll pay.  I heard about the bad part of your assignment, but I’d love to hear more about your pirate adventures.  Did you learn any pirate talk?”

“Pirate talk?” Emberglow asked.

“Yeah.  Stuff like ‘arg’ and ‘yarr’ and ‘ahoy’,” Lofty teased as he stood.  “Hang on, let me leave a note for Gimlet Eye, another Knight Vigilant I’m working a case with.”  He ruffled around for a spare piece of paper, writing a quick note for his partner.  Emberglow laughed at the pirate question, standing with her friend as he opened the door for the two of them.  

“No.  The pirate I had the most conversations with did like to rhyme, however.”

“Rhyme?”

“Some of the Zebra only speak in rhyme.  Zuberi wouldn’t explain it to me, but I got the impression it was some sort of taboo.” Emberglow said.  The two of them trotted down the stairs, all five flights.  The whole way, Emberglow told Lofty about her adventure on board Lady Elegant.  Like with her parents, she tried to downplay her own role, but Lofty was not buying it.

“So you basically did nothing, while all the other ponies did all the fighting?” he raised a skeptical eyebrow.  She waved a hoof at him.

“You know how I am in a fight, Lofty.”

“I also know when somepony is trying to be too modest.”  He grinned at her.  “You’re a much better Knight than you give yourself credit for, I’m sure.

“Well,” Emberglow admitted.  “I did save my entire team when the pirate tried to light a stack of gunpowder barrels.”

“Told you so,” Lofty smirked..

“But I accidentally shielded the pirate at the same time, so…”  she trailed off because Lofty was laughing so hard.

“What happened to the pirate, then?” he asked, after he’d caught his breath.  Emberglow’s ears wilted as the joy drained out of her.

“He was… we had to…”  She paused, inhaling deeply.  “He and his surviving crew was hanged.  I… I had to oversee the procedure.”  She hated the way the euphemism felt leaving her mouth.

“It’s a terrible thing to hold a pony’s life in your hooves like that,” Lofty said, a haunted look passing his eyes.

“Lofty, what happened to you?” Emberglow asked, leaning forward in concern.  He shook his head.

“Nothing important,” he said.  “Let me tell you about the case I’m working on.”  As a change of subject, it was clumsy and heavy-hooved, but Emberglow let it pass.  Her friend would tell her if he wanted to.  Besides, it wasn’t like there weren’t secrets she kept from him.  

So she let him speak about the case he was working on, a decade-long fraud spree among three different banking institutions in New Canterlot City.  It all seemed uninteresting on its face, but Lofty seemed to be enjoying the work, and his passion for the investigation made it worth hearing about.

They reached the café, a charming outdoor affair with wrought iron tables and chairs, a pleasant vase of fresh cut flowers on each table. There was a swinging door leading into indoor tables, but the large window Emberglow could see showed that most of the café’s patrons were choosing to eat outside and take advantage of the sunny day.  There was only a single table open, and Lofty Tale motioned for them to sit.

“We don’t order inside?” Emberglow asked.  

“Usually we would, but they like me here.” Lofty smirked.  “I get special treatment.”

“You don’t think that’s inappropriate?” Emberglow said, making sure to keep a teasing note in her voice. “Taking advantage of your position?”

“Heavy responsibilities and obligations have to come with some perks, right?  And here comes the first perk,” he said.  A mare approached, an earth pony with pastel yellow fur and a bouncy white mane.  She wore a perky blue sun dress, and her blue eyes sparkled with inner mischief.  She practically bounced over to the table, and at first she didn’t even seem to notice Emberglow.

“Hey there, Sir Handsome… Um, I mean, hello, Sir Lofty,” the mare said, correcting herself with a start when she noticed Emberglow.  Puzzlement and worry warred for a moment on her face as she looked at Emberglow; from her original greeting, Emberglow thought that perhaps the mare was sizing her up as a potential rival.  It only took a moment to recognize the robes of the Radiant, which was apparently enough to dismiss Emberglow as a romantic threat.  Her flirtatious smile came back instantly.

“Hello, Alamode.  This is my best friend, Lady Emberglow.”

“My lady,” Alamode said graciously with a curtsey, before turning back to Lofty.  “What can I get you today?”  Her voice was laced with innuendo, and she gazed at him with a sultry, half-lidded look.

“Do you mind if I order for both of us?” Lofty asked Emberglow, who nodded.  Her friend knew the café, so she trusted his choice.  She wanted to see what he meant by ‘genius with zucchini’.  “Two orders of zoodles with fried tofu and marinara sauce,” he ordered, and Alamode grinned and bounced away with a saucy sway of her hips.  Emberglow watched her go, then turned back to Lofty, her eyebrows raised in an almost comically exaggerated look of judgement.

“What?” Lofty said innocently, and Emberglow snorted.

“Nothing, Sir Handsome.” Emberglow said.  “But I have to ask about that pesky little Oath of Celibacy you Vigilants swear.”

“Oh, it’s the same as yours,” he said.  “But there’s nothing wrong with a little flirting.”  Emberglow thought about her time with her friend Gadget, and silently disagreed.  His lighthearted tone faltered for a moment. “You may be surprised at how loosely some Knights in New Canterlot City interpret their Oath of Celibacy, or even the Oaths of Poverty and Sobriety.”

“I’d… rather not even think about it, actually,” Emberglow said.  It reminded her of Bubblegum, if to a lesser degree.  Why did ponies even become Knights, if they didn’t wish to live by the rules?

“Lofty!  I found your note.  Did you order for us already?” came the shout of a brown earth pony, wearing orange robes that matched Lofty’s.  His darker brown mane was cut military style, a near match for Delver Deep’s mane style.

“Not for you, Gimlet,” Lofty said.  “Gimlet, meet my best friend, Emberglow of the Radiant.”  Emberglow rose from her seat to greet the newcomer, and they shook hooves before both sat down at the table with Lofty.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Emberglow,” Gimlet said.  “Lofty says you’re a genius with the rune gauntlet, and you’re the only reason he graduated from Knight training.”

“He would have sorted things out eventually,” Emberglow said.  “Three, maybe four years late.”

“No, you give me way too much credit,” Lofty said with a grin as he owned her teasing.  “I’d never have passed.  You worked a miracle with me.”

“Okay, enough of that,” Emberglow said with embarrassment.

“Emberglow just got back in the city after an assignment hunting pirates in the Eastern Sea.  Pirates, Gimlet.  Some ponies have all the luck,” Lofty said enviously.

“Hunting pirates?  That’s like every colt’s dream.  Meanwhile we get a fraud case,” Gimlet said with a sigh of exasperation.  Emberglow’s gaze flicked back and forth between the two Vigilants.  They both seemed legitimately disappointed that they didn’t get to hunt pirates.  Stallions were so weird.

“Oh?  From what Lofty was saying, you were both really enjoying your fraud case.”

“Yeah, it’s interesting,” Gimlet said.  “Every mystery is like a puzzle to put together." Then he grinned. "And we may have found another piece.”

“Did you get it?” Lofty asked, his ears perking up as he leaned forward in his seat.  Gimlet gave a pleased chuckle.

“Yup.  It seems your guess was right.  The employee records at both Morning Glory Credit Union and First Canterlot Financial have been tampered with.  Somepony is hiding something from us, and it’s in those records.”

“Did your search find some non-redacted records?” Lofty asked.  Gimlet shook his head, but kept grinning.

“Nope.  But I did find something else.  I know the name of the pony that did the redacting.  And she lives here in the city.”

“Oh, very interesting,” Lofty said.  “We’ll have to have a chat with the mare.”

“You still busy this afternoon?” Gimlet asked.  Lofty nodded.  “We’ll go track her down tomorrow.”

Alamode arrived just then, bearing with her two plates full of green-looking noodles covered with red sauce and crispy brown fried strips of tofu.  When the waitress saw that Sir Gimlet Eye had arrived, she took his order as well.  Emberglow dug into her meal, discovering to her pleasant surprise that ‘zoodle’ meant a noodle made out of tiny strips of zucchini.  The squash added a delightful sweetness to the savory marinara sauce, and the tofu was deliciously seasoned.  She could see why Lofty ate here frequently, at least besides a cute bouncing flank.  

“So what’s this afternoon?” Emberglow asked, a bit confused when Gimlet smirked and Lofty looked away, blushing with slight embarrassment.

“Just a longstanding appointment our good noble pony has,” Gimlet said with a teasing grin.  “I don’t know why you’re so embarrassed, Lofty.  It’s almost like you’re ashamed.”

“I just don’t like anypony to make a big fuss, is all,” Lofty mumbled.

“What are you talking about?” Emberglow asked, confused.

“It really is nothing,” Lofty said.  “I’ve been living off my pay from Knighthood and have been spending my allowance from my family on charitable ventures.  My family doesn’t know, but most of the other Knights I work with do.  I tried to keep things quiet, but do you realize how difficult it is to keep a secret from an entire building full of investigators?”  Gimlet laughed.

“He gets teased about it, but secretly we’re all impressed,” the other Vigilant said.  “Sir Moneybags here has hired a contractor and work crew to build a brand new soup kitchen in Valley Ward, for some of the poor laborers there.  He’s managed to snag a few other investors as well among the Knights working out of the justice building.  Once a week he goes to check on the progress, meet with the contractors and the laborers working on the building.”

“Wow, Lofty,” Emberglow said.  “You never said anything.”

“I don’t want attention for stuff like this,” Lofty complained.  “I want to be known for stuff like what you did.  Hunting pirates.  Silly hero stuff.  That’s the kind of thing that impresses the mares,” he said with a silly grin.

“Like you need help with that,” Gimlet said with a snort as Alamode came back with his lunch and bedroom eyes for Lofty.  Emberglow giggled.

“What made you think of this?” Emberglow asked.

“One of my first cases was a serial burglar hitting wealthy manors in Garden Ward.  She was a day laborer in Valley Ward.  I ended up spending a lot of time there with the senior investigator I was working with, and it was… illuminating.  So I decided to engage in some noblesse oblige.”

“You’re misusing that term,” Emberglow said.  “But I get what you mean.”

“I needed to do something, even if it was just symbolic, to give back.  My family has no idea I’m spending the stipends they send me on building a soup kitchen, but I’m sure they wouldn’t care.  The building will probably end up with the ‘Tale’ name on it somewhere, which will only add to the family story.”  Lofty shrugged.  “Honestly I don’t care if they gain prestige or fame because of this, as long as ponies get helped.  The side benefits don’t matter as long as they’re getting food, right?”

“Lofty, I’m proud of you, you know that, right?” Emberglow said, reaching out to rest a hoof on his shoulder.

“You should be, I’m amazing,” Lofty said with a grin, and Emberglow laughed.  “Hey, about what we were talking about earlier.  I’ll look into it for you.”

“You don’t have to do that, Lofty,” Emberglow said, as Gimlet looked between them, a puzzled curiosity on his face.  “I know it’s a risk.”

“I know how to ask the right questions, Emberglow,” Lofty said.  “And I know when it’s time to back off.”  He finished the sentence with a meaningful  glance at her, and it was her turn to look embarrassed.  “Don’t worry, I’ll see what I can find out.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble for asking, Lofty.”

“Of course, Emberglow.  I’ll let you know what I uncover.”

The three ponies finished their lunch, exchanging small talk and the casual, gentle teasing that happened so naturally between friends.  Emberglow was a bit concerned about the flirting Lofty did with the waitress, Alamode, but she didn’t think about it too much.  Afterwards Emberglow took her leave, saying goodbye to the two Knights Vigilant before making her way towards Diamond Home.

The headquarters of the Knights Radiant didn’t really feel like home to her, but it was still a pleasant sight. It was the smallest of the five Knight Order Headquarters, reaching only four stories into the skies.  The walls were white, and sparkled in the sun from the bits of shell and mother-of-pearl that had been ground up in the masonry during its construction.  It wasn’t just a home for the Knights, either; Diamond Home stood next door to a large hospital, where many of the Radiants who lived their spent their days.

Mercy Song had told her to check in, so she dropped by the reception desk and told the young squire working there the address of her parent’s house.  Apparently, she had already been left a message for when she showed up; unless otherwise informed, she was to report to Lady Freckle of the Radiant in five days, unless they received a request for a second interview from the Mystics.  This suited her just fine; she would be able to follow up on any information Lofty Tale brought her about Oak Chips while she was waiting.  Happy that her duties had been seen to, she headed home to her parents' shop.

There was a new sign in the window when she got home; it read, ‘Needle Point Textiles: Favorite Shop of Lady Emberglow of the Radiant, MIGHTY HUNTER OF PIRATES!’

“Oh, Saints defend me,” Emberglow moaned before braving the front door.  The entry bell rang and Emberglow stepped into the shop.  Thankfully, there was nopony currently browsing the rows of dresses and suits, with only her mother seeing to the front-of-store.

“Take it down,” she said gruffly, with no preamble.

“Take what down, Lady Sweetie?  And hello, by the way,” her mother said with a smile.

“You know what I mean,” Emberglow groused as her mother giggled.

“Nopony in the neighborhood will take it too seriously, sweetie.  Your dad and I are just having a bit of fun.  Besides, the sign’s the complete truth, isn’t it?” her mother said innocently.

“You’re ridiculous,” Emberglow said, conceding with a roll of her eyes.  “I have no orders for five days, though that might change at no notice.  Could I spend it in the shop with you guys?”  Technically she could ask for quarters at Diamond Home, but she saw no point when her parents lived so near.  Besides, she missed them.

“Of course, sweetie.  You stay as long as you want,” her mother said.  “How did your errands go?”

“I went to see my old friend Lofty.  He’s doing well.  I’ve also asked him to…” she trailed off, suddenly realizing what she’d been about to spout out to her mother.  “Um, I had to ask him about a case he was working on.  Something he was writing me about.  Just a curiosity, really.”

“Uh huh,” her mother said, skeptically.  Needle Point knew she was a terrible liar, but Emberglow sealed her lips and said nothing more.  After a moment, her mother shrugged.

“Well, we’re not busy, so could you help your father with some repairs?” Needle Point asked, and Emberglow was more than happy to chip in.


*   *   *   *   *


The next three days saw Emberglow falling into a routine.  In the morning, she’d help her parents in the shop.  In the afternoons, she would check in at Diamond Home.  While unassigned, there were still things Emberglow could do to help, so she did.  There were always ponies supplicating the Knights Radiant for healing inside their headquarters, and she was a skilled healer both magically and non-magically.  It was not as if there was much more for her to do while she waited. 

On the evening of the third day, just after closing time, there was a knock on the family shop’s front door.  Textile answered.

“Emberglow, it’s for you,” he called up the spiral staircase.  “A Sir Lofty Tale at the door.”

“Invite him in, dad.  He’s a friend.”

Textile and Lofty Tale trotted up the spiral staircase that led to the family’s living room.  Lofty looked concerned as he waved off Textile and Needle Point’s respectful bows.

“I am sorry to intrude on your home so late,” he said.  “I need to speak to your daughter alone for a few minutes.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Emberglow suggested, and Lofty nodded.  “I’ll be back in a while, mom, dad.  Don’t wait up if it gets late.”

The moon was full and the night was almost unpleasantly cool.  Emberglow was wearing a civilian dress, and Lofty his robes.  She wished she’d thought to snag a coat, but seeing the expression of urgency on Lofty’s face, she didn’t want to suggest they go back.

“You found out something,” Emberglow said as the two of them trotted down the street.  It wasn’t a question.

“Nothing good.  Nothing even substantial,” Lofty said with a sigh as he walked alongside his friend.  “I have a few contacts with the Mystics.  I asked about the name.  The response was almost immediate.  I was told that it was none of my business, the matter was sealed and classified, and that to ask further would result in an investigation into my own activities.”

“They threatened you?” Emberglow asked incredulously.

“Yes.  All I could get is that Oak Chips was arrested for heresy.  I got nothing more about the nature of the heresy, or which crimes he committed.  I couldn’t even learn where he was being kept.  I’m sorry, Emberglow.  This is not something you want to push.  Especially if you’re already being looked into for the incident with your teammate.”

“I know, Lofty,” she said softly.  “It’s just hard, you know?  He was my friend.”

“I get that,” he said.  “It can be really frustrating dealing with the Mystics.  They always have considered themselves the first among the Knights, and it shows in this case.  I wish I could have done more for you.”

“You’ve done enough,” Emberglow said.  “Thank you.”

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” he asked.  She shook her head.

“I’ve got to at least ask Sir Steadfast.  If he tells me the same thing, I’ll drop it.  I promise, Lofty,” she added when he looked at her, worried.  She knew she wouldn’t drop it, though.  

“Promise me you’ll be careful, too,” Lofty said, the moonlight sparkling in his full, concerned eyes.

“I’ll do my best, Lofty,” Emberglow promised, though she couldn’t help but feel an ominous foreboding.  After her interview with Hollybright, she was starting to wonder if just being careful would even be enough.
> Chapter 16
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 16


Recording of a Radio Free Equestria broadcast.  Listening to, recording, or possession of so-called ‘pirate radio’ broadcasts are to be considered acts of heresy and will be punished accordingly.

	“Hello New Canterlot City!  It’s me, Cutting Wave, and once again you’re listening to the best and onliest pirate radio station in Equestria!  Yup, not ‘the Diarchy’, but Equestria, for you new listeners.  That’s what our land used to be called, back when things made sense.

	“Didjya know that?  That things used to make sense here in Equestria?  Ponies were kind to each other.  Pegasi, earth ponies, and unicorns all lived together, married, had foals together, worked together, made friends together.  Crazy, right?  Nope, actually, what’s up now is crazy.  We’ve marinated in this insanity for so long that we don’t even notice.

	“Oh well.  Sorry I sound a bit rambly tonight.  I’m a bit excited and off my game because we've got a request from the Discordant to broadcast a message.  Yup, this is a bit of a call-out to the Knights Mystic, the puffed up stallions and mares themselves that run the show.  This message is a little unprecedented, we don’t usually get direct communications from the Big Guy.

	“You heard me, Mystics.  This message is for you, from Sir Heartwing of the Discordant.  He asked me to pass it on special for those of you listening in tonight.  Here it is: ‘Stay the buck out of Manehatten, you self-righteous pricks.’

	“That’s it.  That’s all he told me to say.  Well, he might have been a bit more colorful than that, but there could be foals listening, and we at Radio Free Equestria are running a family show, damn it!

	“In other news…

The remaining recording cuts off there.

1112 AF, New Canterlot City

“It has been quite some time since you’ve visited my office, Emberglow,” Steadfast Word said with surprised delight when Emberglow knocked on his door the next day.  “Come in.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and he laughed.

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” Steadfast said.  Emberglow blushed.

“Old habit, sir… er, Steadfast.  Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Steadfast said, laughing again.  “What brings you to my office today?”

“Actually, Steadfast, I have a favor to ask,” Emberglow began nervously.  “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Emberglow, I’ve known you for years.  Of course I trust you,” he said.  He moved behind his desk, motioning for her to sit.  His office was comforting, and she let the familiarity calm her nerves.

“I just want to ask a question, but I don’t know how to get the information I’m looking for.  See, I have a pony I used to be close friends with.  He lived next door to me and my family for years, and he was always kind and encouraging.  When I got back from my last assignment, he was gone, and I was told he had been taken by the Knights Mystic.  For heresy.”  She paused, waiting for a response from Steadfast, but he merely looked thoughtful as he waited for Emberglow to continue.  “It makes no sense to me, sir.  Heresy seems so… out of character for him.  He was kind and faithful, and I need to know what happened.  What made him choose to fall from the grace of the Saints.  It’s… really bothering me, sir, to not know all the information.”

“You always were driven and curious,” Steadfast said, slowly .  “You’re sure he was taken by the Mystics?”

“I asked my friend, Lofty Tale of the Vigilant, to ask around.  He was told that Oak Chips was taken for heresy, but the Mystics he spoke to wouldn’t say any more.  They seemed quite upset that he’d even asked,” Emberglow said.

“Ah yes, the silly turf wars between us and the Vigilant.  Hogwash, if you ask me.  Utter silliness,” Steadfast scoffed.  “Oak Chips was the fellow’s name?  I can’t say I recognize it, so it wasn’t a case I was involved in.”

“Oh,” Emberglow said, her voice sinking as she slumped into her pillow.  “I was hoping…”

“Oh don’t look so put out, Emberglow,” Steadfast said.  “I can at least ask.  If he was taken for questioning, it may be a classified matter, and I’ll be unable to share any information, but I can try.  If you don’t mind, there’s a colleague of mine I can speak with right away.  Do you mind waiting?”

“Not at all, sir… I mean, Steadfast,” Emberglow corrected, earning herself another laugh from the senior Knight.

“I shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.  I might not have any information to give you, however, so don’t get your hopes up.”  Steadfast stepped out of the office, closing it behind him.  She sat back and waited for Steadfast to return. 

Emberglow found her eyes idly drifting over the papers on his desk.  She was surprised to see something familiar; a single sentence note that she’d last seen in Delver Deep’s office in Port Luminescence — Zuberi's note.  It was an odd coincidence, had he been looking into her mission?  

True to his word, it only took Steadfast about ten minutes before he re-entered the office.  His expression was grim as he sat down across from her.  She waited, expectantly, but also with growing dread.

“Emberglow, I…” he began, hesitating.  Steadfast took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can tell you right now about your friend.”

“I see.  Thank you for asking, sir,” Emberglow sighed, not even bothering to correct herself this time.  He shook his head sadly

“In fact, the Mystic in charge of the investigation was quite upset that somepony has been asking into his business.  You may have annoyed some ponies in my order, Emberglow.”

“I promise, I meant no harm,” Emberglow said.  “I just want to understand, that’s all.  I’m not trying to cause any problems for anypony.”

“What if…” Steadfast began thoughtfully.  “What if there was something you could do to earn a little good will between yourself and our order?  I might have an idea that could help you get what you need, and even smooth things out a bit with Hollybright.”

“You know about that?” Emberglow flinched.  Steadfast nodded.

“Hollybright and I speak on occasion,” Steadfast said slowly.  

There was the mildest hint of distaste in his voice, and Emberglow raised her eyebrows quizzically.  

Steadfast gave a rueful chuckle.  “She and I have never gotten along.  Perhaps I owe you an apology, Emberglow.  She knows I sponsored you, and perhaps that is why she was so harsh with you.  But that doesn’t mean I am without influence.  A few words in the right ears, and I can ensure that Hollybright has other things to occupy her time.”

“Oh,” Emberglow said, not knowing if that was good or bad.  “So what can I do for you?”

“I know you’re currently off assignment.  I need a team to go into an incredibly dangerous environment to investigate a disturbing motic surge.  The team will be large, including regular soldiers and at least six Knights.”  Steadfast seemed calm, but his eyes sparkled with unspoken excitement.  In his hooves was a manilla folder that he was fiddling with idly.

“Why me, sir?” Emberglow asked, her eyes drawn naturally to the folder, though 

“You may be Lady Rarity’s, but you have a mind like a Mystic.  You’re inquisitive, you’re observant, and you’re driven.  I need ponies like you.”  His voice was fervent, and full of passion.

“And if I say yes?” Emberglow asked.  She didn’t like the feel of this quid pro quo.

“I’ll somehow convince the inquisitor in charge of Oak Chip’s case to let me see the files,” he patted the stack of other papers already on his desk.  “I’ll pass on whatever information I can.  If you go, I don’t think you’ll need to speak with Hollybright any longer, either.”

“And if I don’t agree to go?” she asked softly.

“It’s not like that, Emberglow.,” he waved his hooves defensively.  “ I’ll ask Hollybright to back off.  She knows none of you had anything to do with your teammate’s sins, she’s just trying to be thorough with her duty.  You understand that.”

“Yes, I understand,” Emberglow said, feeling a bit relieved.  It felt less like she was being bribed with getting out of an inconvenient investigation, and more like she was going to do a favor for a friend.

“Besides, I actually think this mission will really pique your intellectual curiosity,” Steadfast said with a sly grin.  “It’s in Manehatten.”

That got Emberglow’s attention.  She immediately sat up, her ears perking towards Steadfast, and her eyes darted back and forth between the manilla folder in his hooves and the slightly smug smirk on his face.  The island of Manehatten was a diseased, overgrown ruin, covered in hundreds of years of foliage growth and seeping with dangerous levels of motic radiation.  It was obvious that Steadfast was manipulating her, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for her to be tantalized by.  

Frustratingly, he clearly knew her well enough to know that she would be immediately hooked by those breadcrumbs. 

“You said we were going to investigate a motic surge?  How strong was the surge to be detected over the ambient motic radiation of the island itself?”

“’We’?” Steadfast said with a pleased smile.  Emberglow sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Yes, you caught my interest.  Tell me more.”

“The surge is unusually strong, and contains a strange character.”

“Character?  What do you mean?” Emberglow asked.

“The Mystics have an outpost just outside Manehatten, about thirty miles away from the island.  We’ve got outposts throughout the Diarchy, set up with motic seismographs.  Sometimes, if a unicorn is employing powerful magics, we can sense the motic surge.  The machines also record surges from things like magical explosions, dragon incursions, or other odd anomalies.  There are patterns to these readings, and the patterns coming from Manehatten are far different from anything we’ve recorded there before.  Stronger, as well.”

“What is it?” Emberglow asked impatiently, her curiosity piqued.  If she had suspected Steadfast of leading her on with hints and implications before, now she was sure.  Of course she knew about the Mystic listening stations; every Knight did.  

“We have no idea.  It’s not unicorn magic, either.  Or I should say, not only unicorn magic.  It’s hard to say without getting closer with our investigators and our instruments.”

“So you’re going to be going?” Emberglow asked.  Steadfast laughed.

“No, camping in irradiated ruins is a young pony’s game.  I’m sending a student of mine, a Mystic named Brightblade.  He’s going to be the commander of this mission, at my request.”

“Do you know the other ponies who will be going?” Emberglow asked.

“I’ve spoken with a few others, including another Mystic besides Brightblade.  You won’t be the only Radiant this time either, you’ll be serving underneath Lady Bitterroot.  I’ve also made a request with the Knights Adamant for at least four of their number, and a Jubilant as well.  Manehatten is dangerous, and you’ll need plenty of martial power.  I’ve also been allowed three full squads of marines.”  He paused a moment, allowing Emberglow a second to be suitably awed at the number of ponies and Knights that would be going on this mission.  “Lady Bitterroot will be in charge of medical care for the Knights, while you will be commanding the three medics in charge of each of the marine squads, supervising and supplementing their care as needed.  Have you met the mare?”

“Lady Bitterroot?  No, I haven’t,” Emberglow said.

“You’ll like her.  Everypony does.  She’s the perfect stereotype of the grizzled, scarred combat veteran.  No fear, and fiercely protective of the Knights she’s serving with.  A bit of a cranky mother hen at times, but those of us who know her love her for it,” he said.  “I know her myself from my days on the griffon front.”

“I look forward to meeting her, then,” Emberglow said.  “Forgive me, sir, but it sounds like you were already planning on including me before we even had this conversation.”

“I was going to ask for you specifically, yes,” Steadfast said.  “Your Order head, First Lady Fairy Light said she’d be more than happy to assign you to me, except you hadn’t yet been cleared for duty by Hollybright’s investigation yet.”

“You’re terribly manipulative sometimes, sir,” Emberglow said, trying not to smirk at him.  Steadfast winked.

“It doesn’t hurt that I can do you a favor in exchange for the one you’re doing me, does it?” he mused, and she nodded.  An exchange of favors felt much better than the hint of bribery had.  It felt more honest, somehow, even though it had essentially the same result in the end.  “The truth is, I think I’ll need you there, Emberglow.  My old squire Brightblade is a fine Knight, intelligent and observant.  But you’re different.  You think more deeply than he does.  You’re a little more unconventional, willing to think around corners.  Few other Knights would have bothered to ask about their friend the way you did, when threatened with the ire of the Mystics.  I have a hunch that we’ll need that sort of determination and resolve, if it can be kept under control.”

“Um, thank you, sir?” Emberglow said, noting the warning inside the compliment.  Unconventional thinking was not usually rewarded, even among the Knights, and the cautious note in Steadfast’s voice was a clear message to her.  “I’ll do my best.”  It seemed like the appropriate response, though it felt limp.  An errant thought struck her mind.  “Um, one more thing, si… um, Steadfast.  Can you intercede with Hollybright on behalf of the marines we were with, as well?  They also had nothing to do with Bubblegum’s betrayal.”

Steadfast pursed his lips with thought, glancing critically at Emberglow.  The silence was long enough that Emberglow began to grow nervous.

“You know I can’t promise anything,” he said finally.  “Heresy hides in even the most innocuous places.  We have to be thorough.”

“I understand that, Steadfast.  I only ask that you try.”

“Very well, young lady,” he replied.  Emberglow noted a bit of annoyance in his voice.  “Be careful you don’t ask for too much, Knight.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, shifting in her seat nervously.  She needed to change the subject.  “What is the timetable for this mission?”

“Here,” he said by way of an answer, passing the folder across the desk.  Emberglow flipped it open eagerly; it was a dossier full of information, files on ponies, aerial photographs of the region, and more.  “I believe Brightblade wishes to depart for Outpost 192 by the end of the week.  He’s finishing up the last logistic details and negotiating with the Vigilant for their participation.  You’ll have all the details and departure dates in your dossier.”  Steadfast smiled, reaching out and patting Emberglow’s hoof.  “This mission will be just what you need, Emberglow.  Take some time to relax, and don’t worry about these things that have been troubling you.  You’ll have enough on your mind soon enough.”

It was a clear dismissal, and Emberglow took it as such.  Even though he technically had no authority over her at the moment, Steadfast was a senior Knight, and years of interactions between them had ingrained a habit of deference into Emberglow’s reflexive behavior.

“Yes, thank you Steadfast.  You have been helpful,” Emberglow said, sincerely.  The conversation had been disturbing, but at least she would eventually be getting the information she wanted.  Oak Chip’s fate still burned at her, but she could hold her apprehension about his story at bay for now.  She stood up and left the older stallion’s office.


*   *   *   *   *


The next morning saw her sitting in the living room at her parent’s home, browsing through the dossier.   Her parents didn’t mind Emberglow looking over paperwork in their living room while they ran the shop downstairs, so she sat at the family couch and read.

In reality, information about what their objective in Manehatten would be was nearly nonexistent.  Nopony knew much at all about what had caused the motic surge, or even precisely where it had occurred.  The information in the dossier was mostly photographs and maps of the Mystic outpost they would be assembling at, as well as some bios for the ponies who had already been confirmed to be going on the mission.  She read about Sir Brightblade (who, to Emberglow’s surprise and slight trepidation, was actually Hollybright’s twin brother) and Lady Bitterroot, and was even pleasantly surprised to see that Knight Sergeant Delver Deep would be leading the three other Knights Adamant who would be accompanying them.  

She didn’t recognize any of the other Adamant, but the second Mystic, Lady Joyful Sound, was a name she recognized from the Ivy Seminary.  Joy wasn’t an unpleasant memory, and as far as Emberglow remembered she had never joined with her bullies, but she had never really stood out, either.  The last member of the team, according to a note in the dossier, was a yet-to-be-determined Knight Jubilant.  

So, two Mystics, four Adamants, two Radiants, and one Jubilant.  Nine Knights, as well as thirty or more marines.  Whatever was going on in ruined Manehatten had the Mystics taking things very seriously. 

The dossier did outline a rough itinerary, including an airship departure time for the outpost on Friday afternoon.  The ponies who would be going would be assembling at the outpost before boarding another airship, a smaller, faster, higher altitude military vehicle that would take them above the city itself, where the earth ponies would be parachuting into the ruins below, while the pegasi got down on their own wingpower.  The high altitude approach was necessary because of the dangers of the destroyed city, as well as the difficulty and time it would take to approach by land.  Emberglow wondered what it would be like to be up so high and to trust one’s life to a few ropes and a piece of cloth; it made her mutter a quick prayer of gratitude to the three pegasus Saints for her own wings.  

Also in the dossier was a pamphlet of information on some of the creatures that the Knights might encounter in Manehatten.  Emberglow flipped through the pamphlet, looking at the various diagrams and autopsy reports of some of the mutants that had been encountered there before.  Even when delivered in a clinical, scientific way, the visuals were nightmarish.  

There were flightless blind birds the size of ponies, some with mismatched limbs, some with multiple heads, which consumed flesh.  There were mosquitoes the size of a pony’s head that could spit acid as a defense mechanism.  There were wormlike creatures, large enough to swallow a cart, which skittered up and down destroyed buildings as if they were horizontal surfaces with their hundreds of centipede-like legs.  Everything that lived in Manehatten seemed specifically designed to prey on ponies.  And that didn’t even count the heretic Knights.

Nopony knew where the Knights Discordant lurked, but they were a constant threat to the Diarchy.  One thing that most intelligence agreed on, however, was the fact that the Discordant were frequently seen around Manehatten.  Nopony knew what interest the heretics had in the ruined city, but it made sense that a corrupt, rotten city would call to those corrupt, rotten ponies.  

A shiver ran down Emberglow’s fur.  Besides Bubblegum, she’d never fought against a Knight before.  She hoped it was an experience she would continue to avoid.  She was afraid, however, that it was all too possible.

Emberglow had two days to pack and spend time with her family before her scheduled departure time.  The dossier suggested that she would only be able to carry enough personal items to fit in a single small saddlebags, so packing would take only a few minutes.  She settled on her personal Book of the Saints, her journal, and a few pens.  After a moment’s thought, she also included her own personal first aid kit.  It wasn’t much, just some bandages and gauze, disinfectant, some emergency anti-venom, and painkillers.

And a small package of hard candies, of course, because cupcakes and muffins didn’t fit in a personal first aid kit.  


*   *   *   *   *


Finally Friday arrived, and Emberglow was a bit relieved that her departure was much quieter than her first mission.  Her parents still saw her off at the port, but there was a subdued nature to their farewell.  Emberglow could tell both her parents were nervous, but they shook off her concerns and sent her away with a final hug and kiss each.  

“Emberglow!  Over here!”  Delver Deep was standing on board the airship, waving a hoof in her direction.  He was chatting with three unfamiliar ponies wearing blue robes.  She bypassed the gangplank and flew over to the four Adamants.

“Emberglow, meet Tad and Gem Redmane,” he pointed at two earth ponies, a mare and a stallion.  They were nearly identical in appearance, with grey coats and eponymous red manes.  Gem, the mare, smiled brightly as she shook Emberglow’s hoof.  Her brother was less exuberant, but his more subdued greeting was no less warm.

“And this is Silverfeather,” Delver introduced the third stranger, a diminutive pegasus with a long, silvery blue mane tied back behind her in a ponytail.  Silverfeather said nothing, but nodded politely.  “Knights, Emberglow here’s a credit to her Order.  She was invaluable back on my last assignment.  She’s fresh, but very skilled and good in a fight.”

“I…” Emberglow stammered, not knowing what to say.  She didn’t think she was, really, but Delver was a bit taciturn and usually sparing in his praise.  “Um, really?”

Gem laughed.  “I think you’ve confused the poor girl.  Not used to hearing compliments from Delver?”

“No,” Emberglow admitted.

“I’m not that stingy in my praise,” Delver muttered.  Gem rolled her eyes, and her brother joined her in a chuckle.  Silverfeather just silently shook her head with amusement.

“You are exactly that stingy with praise.  Remember that time when I sparred with you at Old Canterlot, while I was a squire?” Gem asked.  “Or maybe there was the time when me and Tad chased off the dragon?  Or how about when Silverfeather flew all the way from Camp Pinewood to Forward Base Legrand in two hours?  You were super generous with compliments then.”  The sarcasm was obvious.

“Every time I wrote glowing letters of praise to your commanders!” Delver protested.

“That’s how he gives praise.  In letters to other ponies,” Gem teased.  Emberglow laughed, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit out of place.  The whole conversation hinted at relationships, friendships she was not a part of.  It was one of the only times Emberglow had ever regretted the rarity of the Knights Radiant; she supposed she would always be the exception, the outlier, and would always be a bit of a mare apart.

“Looks like our other Mystic is boarding,” Silverfeather spoke, her voice as light and silvery as her name.  She pointed with a hoof at a familiar looking earth pony mare, with a short, dark blue mane with light blue streaks over pale grey fur, that was struggling onboard the ship under the weight of several large trunks.  Emberglow flew over to help.

“Please don’t touch!” the mare in purple robes insisted as soon as Emberglow got closer.  “I… can manage on my own.”  She was grunting with effort.

“Are you sure?” Emberglow wasn’t convinced.  “It looks heavy.”

“I’ll be fine, Emberglow, thank you.” She didn’t even glance up at Emberglow as she reached the deck of the ship. Emberglow was a bit surprised she knew her name; Joyful Sound had never interacted much with many other students.  “Now you’ll excuse me, I’ve got delicate instruments here and I’d rather not chance some clumsy sailor knocking them over and…”

“Sorry!  Go ahead,” Emberglow was mildly surprised at Joyful Sound’s standoffishness, though it was consistent with how she remembered her.  “Are you sure I can’t…”

“No thank you, but thanks for offering.”  At least she was polite.  Emberglow felt a bit confused as she flapped back over to the Adamants, who were chatting and laughing again at some story she hadn’t been a part of.

“That was odd,” she commented, and the others nodded.  A shadow seemed to pass over Delver’s face.

“Just wait until you meet the other Mystic, our commander, Sir Brightblade,” Delver said softly.

“What do you mean?” Emberglow asked, but Delver shook his head, unwilling to say more.

“At least we can hope that our Jubilant will be fun,” Gem chimed in.  “Does anypony know anything about this Barium Ion?”

“Only what was in the dossier,” Emberglow admitted.  “He’ll be coming in after us on a different airship.”

“And your sister Radiant, this Bitterroot?” Gem continued.

“I’ve heard from Steadfast that we’re all going to love her.” Emberglow smiled.  “He described her as a crusty old veteran with a motherly streak.”  Delver laughed, and the others grinned.  “She sounds fun.  The dossier said she’d be there before us, from the griffon front.”

“That’s good,” Gem nodded.  “One Radiant is a blessing, two will probably mean the difference between success and failure.  And it’ll be all the better if she’s fun, too.”  She grinned, and patted Emberglow on the back companionably.  “We were going to check out the airship before takeoff, maybe see if there’s a mess hall and snacks.  Want to join us?”

The offer was kind, but there was a casual, easy sort of togetherness between the Knights Adamant that Emberglow just didn’t feel a part of.  Even the way Gem said ‘us’ and ‘we’ made Emberglow realize she wasn’t really a piece of their whole.  

She shook her head politely.  “No thank you.  But I appreciate the invitation.”  Gem shrugged, and the four Adamants went their own way while Emberglow wandered over to the railing to watch as the ship lifted off.

All around her, the sailors scurried about the deck, finishing their final preparations.  Despite the crowd, Emberglow found herself walking across the deck with relative ease — the sailors respectfully gave her a wide berth as she drifted around.

Just like on her last departure from New Canterlot City, Emberglow found herself watching the city dwindle and shrink as the vessel ascended, and then slipped away from the city.  Emberglow kept her eyes on Emerald Street as long as she could, even though she couldn’t identify individual buildings.  Her mind wandered as she watched the neighborhood fade in the distance, and she thought about Oak Chips.  The last time she’d left, he’d disappeared.  She wondered, for an instant, who might disappear when she came back this time.  The thought was chilling enough that she froze up, gripping the railing tighter momentarily. She tried to dismiss the thought with a somewhat forced snort and a shake of her head. It was probably just pre-mission jitters rather than some sort of absurd premonition.  

Thinking of home, though, made her think of her parents, and fearful reactions she’d seen when they’d been speaking about Oak Chips.  Were other ponies always as afraid of Knights as her parents had been?  They’d been visibly fearful, even when speaking to their own daughter.  She didn’t want to remember the nervousness she’d seen in their faces, or in their voices.  She never wanted to see that again, but maybe it wasn’t avoidable.

“Excuse me?” she asked, flagging down one of the sailors.  She was curious about something, and wanted to test a grim hypothesis.  She watched carefully as he turned, his eyes narrowed, eyebrows raised in annoyance, until they fell upon her robes.  Suddenly the spark of frustration slid from his eyes, replaced by a sickening, obsequious smile.

“How can I serve, my lady?” the sailor twitched nervously.

“I was just wondering if you knew how long this trip would take,” Emberglow said.  She knew the question was completely banal, but she wasn’t after the information.  She was gauging his reactions.

“Um, just over two days, my lady.”  His eyes shifted to the deck of the ship, then back to her.

“I see.  Sorry to interrupt.”  She waved him back to his task, and he departed with relieved haste.

Of course, there were a million reasons he could have been nervous.  It was also entirely possible she was simply seeing things she expected to see.  Always before she’d noticed the respect and admiration the common ponies had shown to her as a Knight.  But now she saw the fear as well.  The righteous should have nothing to fear from the Saint’s Knights, but for the first time she understood why ponies might feel that way.  After all, she’d done nothing wrong, and she had still been accused of failure.  What must it be like for the common pony, who didn’t have the protection offered by the title of Knighthood?

It seemed like the railing of an airship was a good place for deep thoughts.  She let herself get lost in her own introspection as the airship sped away from her city, and she idly wondered if some other pony, somepony more poetic than she, could find some sort of metaphor or symbolism in the city slowly receding in the distance, sliding away from her.

For a moment, she thought about her younger self.  As a squire, and even before, there had been such a sense of clarity.  Oh, things like evil, heresy, ignorance and treachery certainly existed back then, sure.  But now she had faced those things in the real world, and it was… messy.  Friends could be traitors.  Kind ponies could be heretics.  Sometimes things just didn’t make sense.  Sometimes there wasn’t a clear answer to her questions.  It was like there was a gulf between the clarity offered by the teachings of the Saints, and the way things worked in the real world, and she was suddenly sharply nostalgic for a time when that gulf hadn’t existed.  

Everywhere around her, in fact, there were gulfs, growing valleys between Emberglow and her parents, between Emberglow and her friends, even between Emberglow and her foalhood beliefs.  That was not to say that her faith was wavering, but it was clear that she could no longer just believe the way she had as a foal.

There it was.  There was the metaphor somepony more poetic than she might have come up with a lot quicker.  She was leaving behind her foalhood sense of innocent pure faith as she left behind New Canterlot City.  

Emberglow thought about that for a moment, and then groaned as she smacked her forehead with her hoof.  It was probably best if she left the poetry to the poets.  


*   *   *   *   *


It took over two days to reach Outpost 192.  The old, unused roads in and around Manehatten scattered across the countryside like the dry, cracked bones of the dead city.  Soon enough it wasn’t just the dry bones of old roads that Emberglow could see among the trees, but buildings as well, husks of walls and stones long overgrown by the foliage around them.  At first they were rare, one or two every mile, but they slowly grew closer and densely packed.  There was a haze of something in the air the closer they grew to the city, and it became difficult to see more than a half mile or so away from their airship, but Emberglow could tell the ruins were growing closer.  

Finally the airship’s crew began to steer it into a tight spiraling descent, circling around a small collection of intact, semi-permanent wooden buildings with metal roofs.  There were also a few tents set up as well.  Emberglow could see the symbol of the Mystics, the six-pointed star of Saint Twilight Sparkle, painted on the roof of the largest of the more permanent structures.

There were several soldiers there waiting for the Knights to disembark.  With a start, Emberglow recognized Sergeant Arrow from Strike Squad Epsilon, speaking with Gearsmith.  The last time she’d seen them had been nearly two weeks ago, on the airship back from their disastrous recall from Port Luminescence.  It was quite the pleasant surprise; if Squad Epsilon was here, that meant Steadfast Word had been able to intercede on the marines’ behalf in order to clear them in Hollybright’s investigation.  And if Gearsmith and Arrow were here, then Gadget was probably here as well.

Emberglow tried not to think about how happy that thought made her.

Emberglow waved to the two marines, who waved back.  She had been about to trot over to speak with them when she saw the glow of spellcasting from near the bottom of the docking platform stairs.  It was Brightblade, the last of the Knights to disembark, painting a voice amplification spell in midair.

“Knights, we will be meeting in the command building in twenty minutes.  It’s the largest building in the center there,” the Knight Mystic said, his amplified voice blasting over the ambient noise and bustle of a small military camp.  He pointed at the building in question with one hoof.  “We’ll be meeting in the mess hall.  Before then, take a moment to make sure your armor and weapons have arrived and been unloaded.  Any questions?”  Nopony said anything, and Brightblade nodded and marched off towards the building he had indicated.  Emberglow was still watching him depart when a hoof tapped her on the shoulder.

“Lady Emberglow?” came a familiar voice, and she turned to see Gadget with a little lurch of her stomach.  There was both joy and apprehension in the young marine’s expression, and her eyes gazed searchingly at Emberglow’s.  Emberglow smiled, unable to hide her own relief that Gadget had survived unscathed from her interrogation by the Mystics.  And the other marines in Squad Epsilon as well, of course.  “It’s good to see you,” Gadget said.

“You too,” Emberglow said, giving the other mare a quick, one hoofed hug, which Gadget returned.  A quick hug was safe, right?  “I wasn’t expecting you guys to be here.  Steadfast didn’t say anything about it.”

“Steadfast?” Gadget asked.

“A Knight Mystic.  Friend of mine.  I, uh, kinda asked him to intervene to make sure Hollybright wasn’t giving you guys too much of a hard time.”

“That was you?” Gadget asked.  “Thanks.  You don’t know—“ she suddenly sucked in a deep breath, her ears twitching.  “Um, it was stressful.  It’s kinda why we got assigned here, too.  Don’t you have—“

“Oh, right.  Somewhere to be,” Emberglow said.  “We’ll catch up later.”

It only took a few minutes to verify that her armor and spear, safely packed in a crate, were unloaded from the airship, before she followed the rest of the Knights into the mess hall.  The room was empty of all but Knights, each one dressed in their robes.  There were two rows of long tables lined with benches for the ponies that lived full time at the outpost.  

Brightblade stood at the head of one of the tables, with a number of maps and diagrams before him .  Sitting in various spots around the table were the Knights, most of whom she’d met on the airship down to the outpost.  There was one unfamiliar mare, though, dressed in the same white robes as her, who drew her eye.

Lady Bitterroot was an earth pony mare with nearly as many scars as she had wrinkles.  Her light brown coat reminded Emberglow of the crinkled brown paper bags that foals sometimes packed their school lunches in, and her mane was silver with age.  Her most prominent scar was a matched trio of claw marks that just barely tugged at the left corner of her lips, sliding down to her chin in three even lines.  She gave Emberglow a smile and a silent nod as Emberglow approached the table.

“Everypony here?  Good.  Anypony have problems with their gear arriving?” Brightblade began.  Nopony spoke up, and most of the Knights shook their heads.  “Also good.  I’m sure all of you have read the dossier that my Order provided.  I also know that some of you spoke with Sir Steadfast, my superior, about the mission details.  I’ll not waste time going over what you should all already know.

“Our motic sensors at this outpost are not precise enough to pinpoint an exact location for our target, but we have it narrowed down to a general area.”  The Knight Mystic pointed at a photograph, where a ten block square area had been photographed from high altitude.  “This area is called the Central Hill by those ponies who have scouted Manehatten.  It apparently used to be a gigantic outdoor park in the city.  The hill is not truly natural; most of it sits atop chunks of destroyed buildings.  In addition, Central Hill contains several entrances to the Manehatten Caves, a labyrinth of natural and pony-built caves that make no sense and are stuffed full of mutated horrors.  Those horrors are known to come out and stalk the city, mostly at night.

“We also know the heretics of the Discordant often haunt Manehatten.  They are no friends of the mutant creatures, which hold just as much danger for them as they do for us.  However, there is something that keeps bringing them back to these ruins.  It is to watch for heretic activity that the Mystics set up this outpost, after all.  We should be prepared to fight not only the Diarchs-forsaken creatures lurking in the ruins, but our own fallen brothers and sisters, as well.

“Because the ruins are so densely overgrown and crawling with dangers, I have decided it would be most efficient for us to enter the area around the Hill by air.  We will be boarding a Hummingbird Class airship, much smaller and faster than the Albatross Class vessels you usually see for transport and shipping, such as the one you all flew in on. 

“The airship will approach our landing zone at as high an altitude as possible, and we will drop in from above with parachutes, for most of us.”  He glanced at the two pegasus Knights in attendance.  “Once on the ground, we will establish and fortify a base camp, and Lady Joyful Sound here will begin scanning for our motic anomaly.  Once closer to the source, more delicate and precise instrumentation should be able to give us a better idea of what we’re looking for, and where it is.  Any questions so far?”  

Once again, nopony spoke up.  “Great.  Our itinerary goes like this.  Tomorrow we will be training everypony in the use of parachutes.  Even you pegasi; if something goes wrong in the air, I want you two to know how to operate one for an injured or unconscious teammate.  The afternoon we will do combat drills, see if we can figure out how to work together as a unit.  Our last member, Barium Ion of the Jubilant, has been delayed and will arrive in two days.  He’ll be arriving onboard our Hummingbird, and we’ll depart as soon as possible.  For this afternoon, I’m going to be taking the time to meet with a few of you to go over your specific roles for this mission.  If there is nothing else, you are dismissed until tomorrow morning.  Dinner will be here in the mess hall at five p.m.”

The ponies began to depart, and the Knight Radiant, Bitterroot, moved over as if to speak with Emberglow when Brightblade spoke again.

“Knight Private Emberglow, I’d like to speak with you first, please,” the Knight Mystic said, his voice commanding.  Bitterroot glanced at their commanding officer, looking a bit annoyed, then shrugged.  Emberglow felt the disappointment as well; with how Steadfast had spoken of the old veteran, she was quite eager to meet the mare herself.  Sighing, she walked over to Brightblade, who motioned to a door off of the mess hall that led to a hallway.  

Brightblade led her to a room empty of everything but a single folding table, piled with files Emberglow recognized as personnel reports on each of the Knights in the team.  There were two seating cushions on either side of the table.  Brightblade sat down on one side, Emberglow on the other.

“Emberglow, as you know, you’re going to be working under Bitterroot to oversee the medical needs of the marines.”  The stallion’s voice was cold and professional, and his face pulled into a sneering frown.  “We have two ground based teams, and one elite pegasus scout team.  Each team has its own medic, and you are their commanding officer.  You report to Bitterroot and myself.  In any conflict of orders you follow mine over hers.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Emberglow said automatically.

“Good.  You should also know that I will be watching you closely this entire mission,” Brightblade said.  Emberglow couldn’t help but stare at him.  It wasn’t her imagination; there was something antagonistic about his behavior.  She wasn’t about to let it pass without asking, at least.

“Sir, is there something wrong?” Emberglow asked cautiously.  Brightblade snorted.

“You tell me, Knight Private,” Brightblade said, his tail flicking absently with frustration.  “I’ve been assigned possibly one of the most important missions of my career, and I’ve been saddled with a potential liability in my team just because somepony happens to be friends with my boss.”

“Liability?” Emberglow asked, ears pinning back as she leaned away from the stallion.  “What do you—“

“You heard what I said, Knight Private,” Brightblade narrowed his eyebrows at her.

“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I promise I’m not!” Emberglow cried.

“Really?” Brightblade said, the sarcasm clear in his tone.  “Let’s look at the facts, Knight Private,” he held up a hoof as if ready to count off his points.  “One.  You are a known associate of a convicted heretic.  Two.  You were closely involved in an incident involving a Knight going rogue.  Three.  While still under investigation for number two, you decided, for whatever reason, to question a legitimate Mystic investigation, sticking your muzzle into something that was none of your concern.  You even had the temerity to involve your friend, the Vigilant.”

“I—“ Emberglow stuttered.  “But… none of that was…” Her eyes were wide with shock as she stared at the stallion.  He ignored her discomfiture.

“Despite all of that, you somehow amazingly have Steadfast Word’s trust.  But I’m not so easily fooled, Knight Private.  Maybe you’re not lying, maybe Steadfast’s instincts are correct, and you’re exactly what you appear to be.  But I’m not so optimistic.  I don’t believe in coincidence, and you’ve been involved in a few too many incidents for me to trust you.”

“Sir, I promise you.  That business with my—“ she was about to say friend, but changed with only a brief hesitation.  “—acquaintance Oak Chips.  I simply wanted to know—“

“You don’t need to know anything,” Brightblade said, slashing the air with his hoof.  “You’re nobody to this investigation, or you were until you butted in.  But you don’t even seem to get the worst part.”

“Sir, please.  Whatever Oak Chips did, I don’t support or condone.  I just wanted to know—“

“And that’s it, Knight!” Brightblade yelled.  “Your need to know is a need to question the wisdom of the Knights Mystic.  When you question us, you question the Saints themselves!  You’re so busy thinking about what you want that you don’t even realize how deep into heresy you are!”

“Sir, what are you talking about?” Emberglow asked, becoming frantic.  She could tell how angry the other Knight was, and she could feel herself rising to meet his anger with her own.  “If you’re so convinced I’m a liability, why am I still galloping about free, and not still being questioned?”  Brightblade glared at her, teeth clenched and ears pinned back.  “Why was I cleared in Hollybright’s investigation?”

“Ponies can make mistakes,” Brightblade said defensively.

“Like you, judging me right now?” Emberglow snapped back.  Brightblade flinched.  “I assume Steadfast ordered you to take me, right?  And you followed that order despite your misgivings?”  The stallion said nothing, and Emberglow inhaled, trying to calm down.  “Then we have no choice.  Watch me, sir.  Keep your eye out for any hint of treachery.  I have nothing to hide, and I have no problems letting my actions speak for me.”

Brightblade’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward intently.  Emberglow stood her ground, meeting the other Knight’s eyes with what she desperately hoped was a determined, fearless look, even though she was sure her hooves were shaking.  Finally Brightblade backed off with a snort.

“Fine.  I’ll give you that chance.  I’ll watch you for any sign of heresy. Saints protect us all if you’re lying to me.”

“My only wish is to do my duty, sir,” Emberglow said, trying to keep her voice even and soft.  “To honor Lady Rarity and all the Saints, to keep my team alive, and to follow your orders.”

“Very well, Knight Emberglow.  Dismissed.”  The Knight looked down at his personnel files, opening one up to read the papers inside.  It was a blunt and obvious signal as he rudely ignored Emberglow, who stood up and left the room.  She’d been right earlier; her hooves were shaking.  She closed the door behind her as she left; she didn’t want to see Brightblade any more.  Suddenly Lofty Tale’s reluctance, her parents’ nervousness and fear, and even Steadfast Word’s warnings made so much more sense.  Emberglow had no idea that Brightblade had been involved in the investigation of her friend, or that any of the inquisitors involved would be so angered by her simple query.  It had seemed like such a harmless thing to wish to know her friend’s fate.  Clearly it was much more complicated than that.

Emberglow left the command building, suddenly realizing that she had no idea where her quarters were.  She looked around for somepony familiar, somepony who would know.  Really she was hoping to see Gadget; a few minutes speaking with her friend would go a long way to clear her head of stress after that bizarre interview with Sir Brightblade. A bit aimless, she left the building to find Bitterroot waiting for her.

“Heya, sister,” the older scarred mare said, holding out a hoof for Emberglow to shake.  After her hostile meeting with Brightblade, the open friendliness on Bitterroot’s face was a welcome relief.  “Nice to meetchya.  I’m Bitterroot, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

“Yes,” Emberglow said, a bit stunned at the older mare’s energy.  “I, uh, I’m Emberglow.  Nice to meet you, too.”  She shook the light brown Knight’s hoof.

“So.  Lemme show you where we’ll be sleeping, and we can chat.  There’s only enough cabins to house the ponies that are staged here a bit more permanently, so we’re in tents.  You mind sharing?”

“Not at all,” Emberglow said.

“Good,” Bitterroot nodded.  She trotted off to the south, and Emberglow followed.  There was a collection of tents set up at perfectly spaced intervals.  “One of the benefits of being a Knight instead of a marine.  We don’t have to set up our own tent.”  The mare cackled.  “So, tell me about yourself.”

“Um, there’s not much to tell,” Emberglow began, but Bitterroot was not about to let her hide behind modesty.  She asked her all about her life, from her foalhood, her parents, and her experiences so far as a Knight.  Emberglow didn’t go into too much detail especially about things like Bubblegum, but she found she quite enjoyed speaking with the old veteran.  For her part, Bitterroot was a fantastic listener, full of humor and charm.  While they spoke, Bitterroot showed her where they would be sleeping, a simple canvas tent with wooden poles. There were two bedrolls already set up inside.  Emberglow unloaded her saddlebags by one of the two bedrolls; the other already had Bitterroot’s personal effects on top.  

“What about you?” Emberglow finally asked when Bitterroot ran out of questions about her.  “I only know that my friend Steadfast speaks highly of you.”

“Steadfast?  That old nag?” Bitterroot laughed.  “Have you ever seen the scar he’s got on his right front leg?”

“Um, no?” Emberglow said, confused.

“Exactly,” the veteran giggled.  “What about his missing eye?  Or his tragically shortened tail?  Or even all those innards he’s missing?”

“I guess you’ve healed him a bit, then?” Emberglow asked.

“When we were both younger, he was assigned to a team hunting down deserters fleeing to the Griffon kingdoms.  I was his medic.  He’s a good pony, for a Mystic.”  Bitterroot said.  Emberglow tried not to cringe, suddenly reminded of her circumstances here at the Outpost.  She thought she’d hidden her reaction well, but Bitterroot glanced at her sharply.  “Everything okay?”

“I uh, don’t think Brightblade likes me very much,” Emberglow said.  When Bitterroot pushed, she spilled the entire story to the older mare, this time even filling in the story of her last mission’s ending, and Bubblegum’s criminal indiscretion.  Bitterroot nodded sympathetically the whole time.

“You’re new at being a Knight, and you grew up in the capital, right?” Bitterroot asked.  Emberglow nodded.  “Look, I don’t wanna say you’re a bit, erm, under-experienced, but this is kinda par for the course for dealing with some of the Mystics.  They see heresy in every question, sometimes.  Even decent sorts like Steadfast get a little weird about stuff, so you just hafta be careful.”

“I know that now,” Emberglow said.  “You sound like you have experience.”

“Only forty years as a Knight, young lady!” Bitterroot said.  The two of them spoke more, with the older veteran sharing stories of her time in battle, griffons and ponies she’d fought, even where she got her claw scar on her muzzle.  Oddly enough, not from a griffon as Emberglow had assumed, but from a pony wearing a wicked set of metal claws.  Emberglow used the conversation to feel out her new superior officer; it seemed like Bitterroot wanted more of a partner than a subordinate.  This worked just fine for Emberglow.  If Brightblade was going to be antagonistic, at least she would have a safe haven in Bitterroot.

Later that night, the Knights and marines in the outpost shared dinner together, and Emberglow got to hear the whole story of what had happened back in New Canterlot City from Gadget and Gearsmith.  The marines of Squad Epsilon had been spared the rigors of an intense Mystic investigation due to the intervention of both Sir Steadfast and Sir Delver.  When Steadfast asked Delver to join his expedition to Manehatten to lead the Adamant who would be going, he had asked to pick his own marine squads to support the Knights.  Between his request and Emberglow’s endorsement, it had been apparently enough to have the entire marine squad cleared of suspicion.  Although, it was clear that both Gadget and Gearsmith were rather wary of Sir Brightblade.  Neither of them said anything, but Emberglow got the impression, from their nervous expressions and pinned ears whenever he was brought up, that he’d had a similar talk with the members of Squad Epsilon.  Neither of them wanted to talk about it, so Emberglow let it drop.

That night Emberglow struggled to sleep.  She’d never slept in a tent before; camping was not something her family had done much.  There wasn’t much budget for family vacations, especially with a shop to run and very narrow profit margins, as well as no other employees to cover.  She imagined in other circumstances she’d have been excited, but Emberglow found she just couldn’t sleep.  Excitement for the upcoming mission, elation at seeing her friend Gadget again, a nervous desire to impress Lady Bitterroot, and growing dread about Brightblade and his warnings kept bouncing around in her head in rambunctious circles. 

 It also didn’t help much that Bitterroot snored lightly in her sleep.


*   *   *   *   *


“It should have been here,” Brightblade snarled while the Knights were just sitting down for breakfast,  “hours ago!”  His baleful gaze swept over the assembled ponies, as if somehow it was their fault that the airship had failed to arrive at its scheduled time. His gaze lingered a little too long on her, but he made no accusations.

“It is concerning,” Delver said placatingly.  “Perhaps we should send out scouts.”

It was beginning to be a common pattern.  Brightblade was very new to command, a fact that was obvious to everypony that spent any time with him.  Delver, despite being more experienced, was under his command because of the nature of the mission.  Emberglow was becoming even more impressed at Delver’s gentle way of offering suggestions rather than starting arguments with Brightblade.

“Yes, Delver, good idea.”  Brightblade nodded.  “Send out four scouts as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir,” Delver nodded.  He stood to go issue orders to the scouts, leaving his breakfast still mostly untouched.  A few minutes later he returned.  “Four scouts are following the trail the airship could have taken to get here.  They have orders to fly for three hours, then return here if they’ve found nothing.”  Brightblade opened his mouth, consternation obvious in his face.  “Any further and we’ll need to supply them for a much longer trip.”  Brightblade closed his mouth with an annoyed grunt.

Emberglow tried to spend the time after breakfast with the three medics she would be overseeing.  All three were combat veterans, with a wealth of experience in the field.   There was Cliffjumper, a grey-furred pegasus stallion attached to the scout fire team .  There was Tumbleweed,  a tan-colored earth pony who had been assigned to Fire Team Corona.  Finally there was Sea Star, an aqua-maned, white-furred earth pony mare who had taken over as medic for Fire Team Epsilon.

Mostly Emberglow wanted to see how they dealt with waiting.  The odd combination of tension, fear, anticipation, and boredom were taking their toll on everypony, even her.  

It was many hours later, during lunch, that they finally received word of the missing airship.  A scout burst into the mess hall in a rush of air.

“We need a medic,” she cried out, panting.  “Badly wounded ponies!”  Emberglow was only a split second behind Bitterroot as both Radiant leapt to their hooves and rushed to follow the scout.

“You two, head to my tent and fetch my and Emberglow’s armor.  Scratch that, just the rune gauntlets.  Gallop!” Bitterroot ordered as she ran, pointing at two of the marines who were eating in the mess hall.  To their credit, neither one hesitated to dash out of the mess hall to follow those orders.  “Where are they?” she asked the pegasus scout as the three of them galloped out of the mess hall.

“Coming in behind me…” the scout managed,  “Sent me ahead to prepare.”  She spoke in quick bursts around her gasping breaths.

“Emberglow, can you fly ahead and assess the situation?  Bring them into the sparring ground.  Scout, which direction?”  The scout pointed, and Emberglow launched herself into the air.

“They’re not far behind!” the scout shouted to her as she pumped her wings.  Indeed, she was sure she could see a few specks in motion on the horizon.  Flapping as hard as she could, she dashed off in the direction of the approaching pegasi.  

It didn’t take long to see that the incoming flyers were in bad shape.  Two of them had a makeshift stretcher tied between them with a limp form within.  A third scout had another earth pony slumped on his back.  There was a fourth pegasus, not dressed in a scout uniform, that appeared to be covered in minor lacerations and bruises.  She was barely managing to keep up with the others.

“Keep it up, you’re almost there,” Emberglow called out as she approached, looping so that she fell in right behind the injured pegasus.  “Lady Bitterroot is ready to heal your injuries.  Who is the worst?”

“The sailor in the stretcher,” one of the scouts panted.  “Broken ribs, maybe a cracked skull.  I’m not a medic,” he confessed.  Emberglow winged over to see if she could see herself.  The earth pony was unconscious, his face twisted with pain as he was rushed along in their makeshift transportation.  It was too difficult to see, but he was clearly in bad shape, with several lacerations in addition to the broken bones the scout had mentioned.

“What about him?” she asked about the earth pony riding on the scout’s back.

“Two broken legs, maybe a broken jaw,” the scout replied.  The earth pony in question was conscious, and he nodded drunkenly, clinging to the pegasus he was riding with his two good front legs.  Emberglow could see the back two were oddly angled.  She swooped in as close as she could without getting into the pegasus scout’s airspace, taking a closer look at the fractures.  One leg was damp with blood, and she could see a tiny jut of bone poking through his skin and fur.  The other fracture wasn’t nearly as bad, but she could clearly see the displaced and bulging flesh of a break that was only one step shy of a compound fracture.

“And you?” Emberglow asked the wounded pegasus, the only one of the wounded sailors flying under her own power.

“I’m fine,” she said dismissively, though the pain and exertion of exercise clearly laid heavily on her from her strained expression and voice.

“No time for false bravado,” Emberglow said.  “What are your injuries?”  She tried to make her voice firm, like an order.  The sailor pegasus cringed.

“Uh, cuts and bruises.  My head hurts, and I think I’m gonna puke,” she said.  “Honestly, make sure the other two are okay first, please,”

“That’s the plan,” Emberglow said.  In no time, the pegasi reached the sparring field, where Bitterroot was waiting with the Marine medics.  Sea Star was holding Emberglow’s rune gauntlet, ready for her to equip as soon as she landed.  She stumbled a little as she touched down, not bothering to slow down before landing.  She idly noted that most of the Knights had gathered and were waiting a few paces back, including Brightblade standing near the front.

“Patient in the stretcher is the worst, possible head injury, broken ribs, potential internal damage.  The one on the scout’s back has broken legs and maybe facial injuries.  The pegasus may have a concussion.”  Emberglow called out to Bitterroot as soon as her hooves hit the dirt of the sparring ground.  Bitterroot gave a quick nod before dashing towards the worst of the patients on the stretcher, her hoof already raised and tracing a diagnosis rune in the air.  

The marine medics surged forward after Bitterroot, and Sea Star brought Emberglow’s gauntlet over and helped her put it on. The other two approached the least wounded of the three sailors, the pegasus who had flown in on her own power.

“Sailor, what happened?” Brightblade called out, trying to approach. Bitterroot shot him a sideways glance and shook her head.

“Not now, sir,” she said sternly, finishing her first spell, a simple diagnosis spell.  

“But I need to know…”

“Shut up, sir, and stay back!” Bitterroot snapped, her hoof tracing runes in a blur.  “You don’t need to know horseapples until I say so!  Medic’s orders!”

“But…”

“Sir!” Emberglow called out, coming to Bitterroot’s aid.  “Knight Regulation Book, Chapter seven subsection three.  When it comes to the medical care of ponies she’s responsible for, Lady Bitterroot outranks you.”  It was a little used rule, not something that came up frequently, but if there was any book about Knights, Emberglow had read it.  It was the sort of thing that Brightblade could fight, if he wanted to, but which might end in an inquiry if he did. “We’ll let you know as soon as they’re ready to answer questions, sir.”

Emberglow could see the indecision in his eyes, before he finally stepped back with a scowl and a reluctant nod.   Relieved, she turned her back on her commanding officer, focusing on the earth pony who’d been riding on the back of the pegasus scout.  

One of the marine medics had helped him off the back of the pegasus he’d been riding, and he was spread out on a bedroll that had been spread out on the ground.  One quick diagnosis spell of her own, and she knew what she was dealing with.  The pony was conscious, barely, and he watched her with eyes glazed with pain.  Both of his rear legs were broken, and his jaw was bruised, but at least it wasn't broken or dislocated.  She glanced over at Tumbleweed and Cliffjumper, the two medics working on the wounded pegasus; the sailor mare was covered in a blanket, being treated for shock, but otherwise appeared fine.

“I’m going to need help setting his legs before I can heal the bones,” she said to them.  They nodded to each other, and Tumbleweed stayed with the pegasus while Cliffjumper trotted over quickly.  Sea Star, the one who had helped Emberglow with her gauntlet, rushed over to stand to the side of the patient, near Emberglow.

“This is gonna hurt,” Cliffjumper said to the patient.  “Probably more than when you broke them in the first place.  The pretty Knight here is gonna set your legs.”  Emberglow tried not to notice what he’d said about her.  It was inappropriate, sure, but the wounded soldier could probably use something to distract him.  “I’m gonna need you to bite down on this,” he presented the patient with a rolled up bandage.  “If you wanna scream, that’s fine too.  It’ll be over as quick as we can make it.  You want us to wait in between legs, or do ‘em both at the same time?”

“Get it over with,” the sailor rasped, and bit down hard on the offered bandage with a wince of pain.  The medic nodded, wrapping his forehooves around the patient’s barrel and cradling the patient’s head on his chest.  Sea Star secured the patient’s lower half so Emberglow could get to work setting the bones.  The sailor’s fur was matted and damp with sweat and blood from dozens of small cuts; Emberglow was suddenly sympathetic of Brightblade’s curiosity for what had happened to these poor soldiers.  But the care came first.  She grasped the poor stallion’s hoof in her own, preparing to pull the two fractured bones into alignment so that her healing magic could knit the bone together.

“This is the first time I’ve set a live bone,” she whispered as quietly as she could to the closest medic, Sea Star.  Her eyes found Emberglow’s, staring at her sharply.  “I’m fine.  I’ve practiced quite a bit.  Just… tell me before I do something catastrophically wrong, okay?” Emberglow told her.  She hoped she sounded much more confident than she felt.  The medic nodded, her eyes focused on Emberglow’s hooves as she jerked the bone into place.  The patient’s guttural scream was muffled by the rolled up bandage.  It went on way too long, and Emberglow was starting to worry when the medic reached down, feeling at the break with her hooves.  She didn’t say anything, but her firm nod was a good boost of confidence going into the second set.  With a similar motion, she caught the second broken leg in her hooves and set that one as well.  The patient, once tense and jerking, suddenly went limp.

“Is he—“ Emberglow began.

“Out cold.  Still breathing, Lady Emberglow.  You can cast your spells,” the medic at the patient’s head replied.  Emberglow nodded, raising her hoof and tracing the runes over the first leg.

Healing magic was never as simple as it seemed in the adventure stories Emberglow had read as a foal.  Each fault, each illness, each injury, had to be attended to individually.  Each leg would require its own spell to heal.  In addition, healing was both uncomfortable and draining for the patient.  It was good that the sailor was unconscious already; nopony enjoyed the sensation of weeks or even months of healing, soreness, muscle and bone growth, and itching, all compressed into a few seconds.  She finished the four runes that she would need to nearly instantly knit the bones and realign the muscles and tendons.  The glowing white writing, floating in midair, shrunk and condensed around Emberglow’s hoof as the spell battery finished powering the magic.  She then gently rubbed her glowing hoof against the injured pony’s first broken leg.  She felt the tissues and bones moving and rearranging underneath her hoof as the healing magic did its work.  When it was done, she checked the lit gems on her spell battery; one of the three green gems had gone dark, and the second was blinking quickly.

“Check to make sure it’s healed properly while I tend to the next one,” she ordered to the medics, who hurried to follow her orders.  Again she traced her gauntleted hoof through the air, dragging glowing white runes above the wounded pony.  She barely noticed the marine medic carefully prodding and massaging at the bone and muscle of the first leg she had healed.  Once again, she touched her glowing hoof to the wound and once again felt the flesh, bone, skin, and fur reshape itself into its proper form.  She checked her spell battery again; only one green gem remained lit, blinking slowly.  There was enough for one, perhaps two more powerful healing spells.  “He’ll be fine.  How’s the pegasus?”

“Only minor cuts and a small concussion, ma’am,” Tumbleweed replied.  Emberglow nodded; she’d heal the concussion if her spells weren’t needed on the worst of the patients.  

“Bitterroot?  Need any help?” Emberglow asked, glancing over at where the worst of the three still rested on the makeshift stretcher.

“Do you know the spell to inflate a lung?” Bitterroot asked, managing the question while still mid-cast, her hoof tracing white glow.  Emberglow nodded, then realized the other Knight wasn’t even looking her way.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, trotting over.  “Which lung?”

“Left.  I’ve already healed the rib that was puncturing it.”

“On it,” Emberglow said.  Because each type of injury required it’s own spell, there were hundreds of different healing rune combinations.  Most Radiants even carried around their own version of a cheat sheet, a small booklet with the combinations listed.  Maybe it showed some arrogance, but Emberglow had never needed it. She had memorized them all.

The spell to inflate a lung, knitting the delicate tissues that made up the essential organ, was one of the more difficult and costly spells. The sensation on Emberglow’s end was much different than knitting a broken bone.  She didn’t feel the tissues or organs moving about underneath the pony’s skin, but his breathing did become smoother and less jerky.

After all the busy chaos, there were two unconscious but mostly healthy ponies and two tired but satisfied Radiants with mostly empty rune gauntlets.  The third sailor, the pegasus, was ordered to a tent to rest while the medics enlisted the help of a few marines to gently transport the two sleeping sailors to their own tent.  Emberglow took a minute to take stock of the situation and the ponies who had gathered around to watch.  None of the scouts were present, nor was Brightblade, but many of the other Knights and marines had assembled.  She walked over to Delver, who was with those watching.

“Brightblade?” she asked him softly, trying not to sound nervous.  The adrenaline of the moment was passing, and now she was beginning to feel anxious about confronting him earlier.  She cringed inside remembering the way she’d defied him, in front of all of the assembled ponies.  Surely that wasn’t the best thing to have happen after he had already expressed his doubts in her.

“Somepony suggested that rather than sit here and simmer in his anger, perhaps he could debrief the scouts while you and Bitterroot worked on the wounded ponies.  It seemed like the best use of everypony’s time,” Delver said flatly.  She looked at her former commander.  His lips were tight and his ears tense.  Delver’s eyes found hers, and she saw disapproval, before his expression mellowed into a flat, emotionless mask.  “He’s new to command, Emberglow.  We’ll have to be patient.”  There was a twist in his lips right at the end of his sentence.

“Any advice?” she asked.

“Don’t yell at him in front of the entire camp?” Delver said, smirking.  Emberglow tried to scowl, but let out a small whimper instead.

“Did I mess up too bad?” she asked, hating how pathetic she sounded.  Delver shook his head.

“You’ll be fine.  Brightblade was wrong, and I think he knows it.  If he doesn’t, Bitterroot will tell him.  He’ll probably be cranky at you for a while.”

“Crankier, you mean,” Emberglow grumped.

“You’ll weather this storm, Emberglow,” Delver said, patting her on the withers with one hoof.  “Lay low for a bit, don’t get in his way, and you’ll be fine.”

Brightblade wasn’t the only pony in the camp who was desperate to know what had happened.  The other Knights pressed Emberglow and Bitterroot with questions about what the scouts had found.  Unfortunately, Emberglow didn’t know any more than they did.  All three scouts were sequestered with Brightblade, being debriefed, and the sailors were still recovering.  Whatever had happened was a disaster; the Lightning Dust had been carrying a crew of ten ponies, including Sir Barium Ion.  Brightblade finally emerged after an hour locked away with the scouts to announce an immediate meeting with all of the Knights.  Fortunately for Emberglow, he appeared too distracted to take her to task for the way she’d ordered him out of the way earlier.

Back in the mess hall, the Knights gathered together.  The three pegasi scouts were already there.  Brightblade had made sure the three of them had water and a snack to regain their energy after their long, hard flight.  All three were munching salads and drinking liberally from large mugs.

“Lightning Dust was attacked.  Barium Ion is dead,” Brightblade said with no preamble once the last of the Knights had sat down in the mess hall.  It was a testament to the professionalism of the assembled Knights that nopony whispered or muttered at the revelation.  “These three scouts managed to pull the only survivors out of the wreckage.  We don’t have the full picture yet,” he scowled at Bitterroot and Emberglow as he said it, “but as soon as the three sailors wake up we’ll have a better idea of what happened.  From what they told our scouts, however, it was heretics.  Probably even heretic Knights.”

That got everypony’s attention.  They all knew it was a good chance that there would be some form of heretic presence in Manehatten, but nopony had openly spoken of them until now.  

“On top of that, we have no airship now for our drop,” Brightblade said.  “I’ve sent a dragonfire scroll to Steadfast Word, asking for a second ship, but that could take as long as a week to arrange.  Even if they left right now, this second, they wouldn’t get here until late tomorrow.  It looks like we’ll be waiting on our plots for a while no matter what.  

"Unfortunately, that means we can’t make any specific plans until I hear back from my superiors.  So for now you’re all at liberty.  Bitterroot and Emberglow, I’ll expect regular updates on your three patients.  Please inform me as soon as any of them are available to speak with me.”  The words were polite, even though his expression was twisted as he said it.  It seemed as if they were all going to pretend that Brightblade’s confrontation with the two Radiants would be ignored for now.  Emberglow was fine with this.  

“Joyful Noise, I realize we’re too far away for your equipment to pick up much detail from the city, but I’d like you keeping an eye out for any unusual motic activity, either in the ruins or anywhere else.  I don’t think a little setback will stop us from pursuing our mission, so be prepared to leave at any time.  If we have to, we’ll go in on hoof, though I’d rather avoid that possibility.  I’ll let you all know as soon as I get word from the Capital.”

“Sir, if you’d like to come with us, we’ll check on them right now,” Bitterroot said. “The two we healed are probably still asleep, but the pegasus might be able to speak with you, if you take things slowly and gently.”

“I assume you want to be there to keep an eye on things?” the Mystic said.

“We will be there, yes,” Bitterroot said, and Emberglow tried not to cringe at the hint of a challenge in the veteran’s tone. She didn't need to draw even more of Brightblade's ire.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Brightblade said.  The three of them left the command center while the other Knights milled out, murmuring amongst themselves about the recent events.

The outpost was not usually this populated, so it didn’t have a dedicated medical tent.  The three medics had set up the wounded in their own tent, and Tumbleweed stood outside, ready to deflect any curious or intrusive ponies who wanted a hint at what was going on.  When he saw the three Knights approaching, he saluted.

“The two earth ponies are asleep, but the pegasus is sitting up.  I gave her some water and an ice pack for her head injury, but she’s awake enough to answer questions.  Please don’t wake the other two if you can help it.”

“Thank you, Tumbleweed.  Please continue keeping anypony else out,” Bitterroot said, and the three Knights entered into the large tent.  It was dark, with barely enough light to maneuver around the sleeping sailors to the cot where the sailor pegasus sat up, holding an ice pack to her head while she sipped from a cup.  Brightblade let the Radiant veteran approach first.

“Hello, sailor.  What’s your name?”  Bitterroot asked.

“H-Heliotrope, my lady,” the sailor stammered.  “My f-friends call me Helie.”

“Well, Helie, how are you feeling?” Bitterroot asked.

“My head still hurts, but I don’t feel nauseous anymore,” Heliotrope replied, her voice shaky.

“Sir Brightblade here would like to know a bit about what happened,” Bitterroot suggested gently.  Heliotrope looked up at the Mystic, her expression pensive, then nodded, winced, and nodded more slowly.

“Y-yeah.  Yeah!  I’m fine to talk for a bit,” the sailor said, her eyes darting nervously between the three Knights.  “I, um, don’t want to let them win.  You’re gonna get them back, right?”

“How ‘bout you just start at the beginning?” Bitterroot suggested.  Heliotrope took a deep breath and began.

“It happened a couple of hours before the scouts showed up, I think.  It’s hard to keep track of time, I was knocked out for a bit after the crash.  We were heading here, making good time, when I saw somepony sitting on a cloud in our path.  There weren’t no other clouds, so I told Captain Northfrost and Sir Barium.  We got closer, only it weren’t somepony, but some griffon.”  She shook her head, her eyes distant, lost in a haze of fearful memory.

“Before we could get too close, he called out.  Had some sort of spell on him so we could hear him from a distance.  He said he knew where we were going, and said we had one chance to turn around.  ‘Manehatten’s sacred to us’, he said.  ‘Stay out or else.’  Sir Barium cast something and talked back at him, said ‘no,’ basically.  So the griffon shrugged and flew off.  Sir Barium kinda wanted to chase him, but I was the only pegasus onboard Lightning Dust, and I’m no fighter, so we just kept going.”  She looked ashamed at the admission.

“Couple of minutes later, the whole ship shook like something hit it hard from underneath.  There was a loud bang, an explosion.  I flew over the side to see what was going on, and there was a huge chunk of the hull missing, scarred and blackened.  Something was firing ordinance at us from the ground.  There was tons of smoke coming from the hull, and I saw Cablewright and Sweetsong go over the side, and they were spinning and falling, and I wasn’t fast enough…”  The sailor began to sob, bitter tears leaking out of clenched shut eyes as she pounded her free hoof against the bedroll.  “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t quick enough, I couldn’t catch either one of them…”

“Hey, hush, you need to calm down and relax as much as possible,” Bitterroot said soothingly.  She caught the sailor’s hoof in both of hers, gently stroking the hoof in a calming manner.  “You’re still injured, and you need to focus on healing yourself.  You’ll do that by relaxing and staying calm.”

“’Kay,” Heliotrope sniffed.

“Take your time, sailor,” Brightblade said, and Emberglow was shocked at how gentle his voice was.  “We can come back later if we have to.”

“No, it’s fine, I wanna… I wanna tell it.  So you can hit them back,” Heliotrope said, her ears laying back as she snarled.  “I flew back up to the ship after I failed to catch them in time, and it was a mess on deck.  We’d been hit by two more projectiles, and the balloon was leaking.  We were going down.  There were ponies I didn’t know on deck, pegasi with weapons in black clothes.  They’d killed some of the other sailors. I saw Captain Northwind was down, bleeding and not moving.  I could barely stand, the airship was shaking and rattling apart as it crumbled in midair.  Some of the black clothed pegasi were surrounding Sir Barium, poking at him with their spears.  He had his spear out, and was trying to cast something, and one of the bad guys tried to stop him with a spear thrust.”  By this point, Heliotrope’s entire body was trembling.  Bitterroot patted her comfortingly.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not a fighter, I don’t really know what happened next, only I knew I had to stop the bad guy from, uh, stopping Sir Barium.  I leapt at him, trying to hit him with my hooves, and one of his friends swung his weapon at me, and he hit me with the back end of his spear.”  Heliotrope pointed with one hoof at a spot just below her left ear.  “My vision went kind of fuzzy and I felt myself fall to the deck.  I remember screams, and more falling, and then a big crash.  Next thing I knew one of your scouts was waking me up.”

“What happened to Sir Barium?” Brightblade asked.  Heliotrope shook her head, flinched again, and pressed the ice pack more firmly against her injured head.

“Um, I saw him after the scouts helped me up.  He was already dead,” she said, her eyes downcast.  “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.  You faced off against heretics and lived,” Bitterroot said.  “You’re not a soldier, but your first instinct was to go to the aid of a Knight.  You do the Saints honor with your courage.”

“It weren’t nothing special like that, my lady,” Heliotrope muttered.  “I’m no hero type.”

“The Saints don’t ask for perfection, only our best efforts,” Bitterroot said.  “You did what you could.”

“Too bad it didn’t mean nothing,” the sailor muttered, fresh tears leaking from her eyes.  “Sorry I couldn’t tell you much more.”

“Don’t let it concern you,” Brightblade said.  “You told me enough for now.  As soon as your fellow sailors wake up, I’m sure they’ll be able to fill in the details.  We’ll leave you to rest.”

“Yes, sir,” the sailor said obediently.  “Um, lady Radiant?  The young one?”

“Yes?” Emberglow asked, surprised to be addressed.  She’d said nothing for a reason, feeling like she didn’t want to intrude on the business of older, more experienced Knights.

“That was my fiancé you healed,” Heliotrope said, nodding towards the earth pony who’d had both legs broken.  “I tried to tell the idiot it was bad luck to propose to me right before we left on a mission, but Salt Spray said…” she sighed, clenching her eyes shut for a moment.  “…he said it was a milk run.  An easy mission, then back home.  The combat bonus would help fund our ceremony.  Thanks for saving him, my lady.”

“Uh, yes, sure,” Emberglow said uncomfortably.  She decided not to mention that none of her fiancé’s injuries were truly life threatening.  “He should be fine now, too.  Um, congratulations on your wedding.”  She slipped out of the tent with the other Knights, cursing her own awkwardness.  It didn’t help that Bitterroot let out a snort of amusement.

“’Congratulations on your wedding’?  Smooth, Emberglow,” the veteran said with a teasing bump of her shoulder.  Emberglow just grumbled back at her good-naturedly while Brightblade, with an annoyed glance at both Radiants, trotted off towards his own tent.
> Chapter 17
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 17


Sir Brightblade

	Received your note yesterday.  New airship will be inbound within a month.  Arrival time and date will follow.  Do not attempt ingress by hoof.  Continue observations from range and notify us of any change.  Hold your position for now.  We are sending pegasus couriers so that your Knights and soldiers can send and receive mail.  Keep morale high, and be prepared to embark at any moment.

	Sir Steadfast Word

1112 AF, Ruins of Manehatten

“Ponies, gather around.  I have an announcement.”  Brightblade’s magically amplified voice boomed throughout the Outpost, making the air vibrate with the sound.  He was pacing back and forth, his tail swishing with agitation while Emberglow and the rest of the Knights and marines trotted over to the front door of the command building.

“I’ve received a scroll back from New Canterlot City.  Our replacement airship may take some time to arrive.  In the meantime, you are all required to be ready to leave at any moment.”  He stopped speaking. 

The entire camp was completely silent for a long, expectant moment.

“Was there... anything else, sir?” Delver prompted gently, breaking the silence.  Brightblade huffed angrily.

“Other ponies have decided that morale would be best served if you had some contact with home while we waited,” he said, though his tone was clearly grudging. “Against my objections, you are allowed to write letters home, but you may not speak of anything that is going on here.  I will be reading all letters before they are sent.  Also, my superior in the Mystics, Sir Steadfast Word, will be reaching out to your friends and families to send letters here.”

“He wasn’t going to add that bit?” Bitterroot muttered under her breath, next to Emberglow.  She shrugged.

“Do we have a timetable for the new airship, sir?” Delver asked.  Brightblade shook his head.

“No.  Headquarters didn’t seem fit to tell us.”

Emberglow’s eyebrows narrowed. That didn’t feel right.  Why would Steadfast confirm that an airship was on the way, and not give a time? There was something Brightblade wasn’t telling them.

“He’s lying to us,” she surprised herself by whispering out loud.  She was even more surprised when Bitterroot nodded.

“Yup.  He doesn’t want us to know when we’re leaving.  He doesn’t trust us, that’s for sure.”  Bitterroot nudged her with a hoof.  “Whatever, though, right?  At least we’ll get mail.  That’ll be great.  I have a few grand-nephews back in Appleoosa who just started learning the alphabet.  I’d love to hear from them.”

“Mail would be good for morale,” Emberglow admitted.  The thought brought images of her parents to mind, and suddenly she missed the smell of fresh pancakes and strawberry syrup.  Maybe she’d even hear from Lofty or Turquoise, if she didn’t write to them first.  She hoped Steadfast had reached out to them.

They weren’t the only ones in the crowd who were murmuring, so Brightblade cleared his throat loudly for attention before continuing.

“I’ll be meeting with Delver and Bitterroot to come up with a schedule for the foreseeable future, but in the meantime, you are required to maintain a constant state of readiness.  Until this afternoon, though, we have no plans, so you’re at liberty.  Dismissed, ponies.”

“This meeting’s gonna be a mess,” Bitterroot whispered.  “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Emberglow said grimly as Bitterroot followed Delver and Brightblade into the command building.  Suddenly she was at a loss as to what she should be doing.  She glanced around at the crowd, and saw several ponies in the same boat as her, milling about and watching the closed door of the command building.

Most of the crowd began to disperse, wandering off to make use of their free time, but one of the marines in particular sought out Emberglow’s company.

“Emberglow!  It’s so good to see you,” Gadget trotted over, laughing.   Emberglow grinned. It had been a busy few days, and neither of them had been able to take much time to speak.

“I was so surprised to see that you and your dad were here,” Emberglow said.

“Pleasantly surprised, I hope?” Gadget smiled wryly.

“Of course.”  Emberglow grinned back, nodding. “I was really worried about all of you, after…” She trailed off and glanced around.

“C’mon, we’ll go for a walk,” Gadget said, looking a bit nervous.  Nopony was watching them, but talking about what had happened back at Port Luminescence in the open would certainly invite trouble.  As they started to trot off together, however, Emberglow caught sight of Gearsmith, who looked displeased about something.  Gadget didn’t seem to notice, however, and they quickly moved around the corner of a building where Emberglow could no longer see him.

“So what happened?” Emberglow asked, keeping her voice low.  “With the investigation, and Hollybright?”

“It was brutal,” Gadget shuddered.  “I was sure we were going to be discharged.  Or worse.”  Her eyes found Emberglow’s, and they were full of fear.  “I don’t know if you’ve ever been on the bad end of a Mystic’s investigation, but I never want to be there again.”

Emberglow couldn’t help herself.  She reached out and pulled Gadget into a quick, sympathetic hug.  It was only a squeeze, only a split second, but she still felt warm.  “How’d you get out of it?”

“That’s the thing,” Gadget shrugged.  “It wasn’t anything we did.  We all felt so helpless.  But Sir Delver told Dad the whole story as soon as we got down here.  He said the Adamants were pissed that one of their own would…” she blushed, shaking her head.  “Um, would do what Bubblegum did.  They wanted to make up some lost ground, recover their honor,  you know?  So when that Mystic, Sir Steady or something…”

“Sir Steadfast,” Emberglow supplied, and Gadget snorted in amusement at the interruption.

“Yeah, him.  When he asked the Adamant for Knights to fill out the mission, they made Delver’s presence a sticking point.  In turn, he said he wouldn’t go if our Strike Squad weren’t cleared, too.  Since they knew we’d done nothing wrong, the whole process just got sorta streamlined.”

“And here you are,” Emberglow grinned.  Gadget nodded.

“Yeah.  Dad was really happy he got to still serve under Sir Delver.  I guess I am too; Sir Delver’s a good Knight.”  She blushed, glancing at Emberglow with embarrassment.  “Not that all of you aren’t good!”  She sounded nervous.

“Well, you and I have proof that Knights aren’t always good,” Emberglow muttered.  Gadget gaped at her, then looked away with a frown.  “Sorry.  Let’s talk about something else.  Did you get to see your mom when you went back to the city?”

“Oh yeah, mom’s doing great.  She tried to convince both of us to retire and join her in gardening.”  Gadget scoffed.  “I couldn’t do it, you know?  I think I’ll be in the marines my whole life, until they kick me out.  Or I die.”

It was a morbid thought, and Emberglow frowned.  To be fair, though, it was the same for her.

“Well, however we got here,” Gadget continued, noting Emberglow’s expression with a concerned look, “I’m glad to be here now.  Me and Dad both.  The rest of the squad, too.  Working with Sir Delver is great, but there’s you, too, Lady Emberglow.”  Her voice glowed with admiration.  “I’m really happy to be working with you.”  There was something in her smile, the warm, affectionate grin, that sent a shiver of fear through Emberglow’s fur.

“We have to be careful,” she whispered, almost too low for even Gadget to hear.  “You know, after that night at the bar, Bubblegum thought we were on a…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.  She didn’t need to, from the look of frigid fear that slid over Gadget’s eyes.

“She…  But it wasn’t!” Gadget protested.  “It was…”

“Still.  We have to be careful,” Emberglow repeated, and Gadget gulped and nodded.


*   *   *   *   *


“You’re acting the fool!”

“Dad, it’s not…”

“I know you don’t see it, but I do.  I just want to…”

“I’m done talking about this, Dad.  Don’t you have a gun to disassemble, or something?”

Emberglow knew she wasn’t meant to overhear the fight.  It was clearly a private moment.  She was just dropping by to see if her friend wanted to join her for lunch.  The air of conflict, however, made her hesitate.  She was holding with indecision just outside Gadget and Gearsmith’s tent when the flap suddenly tore back, revealing a surprised looking Gadget.

“Oh!  Lady Emberglow!  I didn’t know you were here.”

“Sorry to startle you.” Emberglow decided to pretend she hadn’t overheard.

The tent flap swished aside again, and Gearsmith was there, looking furious for a second before his face went blank, hiding behind a mask of indifference.

“Lady Emberglow,” he greeted, barely polite as he brushed past the two of them.  Emberglow watched nervously as he passed.

“I can come back later, if I need to,” Emberglow said gently.  Gadget shook her head.

“No, it’s fine. What can I help you with?”

“I was just seeing if the two of you wanted to head to the mess hall together.  It’s almost lunch time, and I’m bored,” Emberglow shrugged.  it was getting to be a common sentiment these days.  With the hours turning into days and even weeks, boredom was proving to be the biggest problem they had.  Delver did his best to keep ponies occupied with training drills and sparring, but it was a struggle.

“I don’t think my dad’s available,” Gadget said huffily, glancing after the retreating figure of her father.  “But I am.  Let’s go.”

The two mares walked side by side, through the marine tents towards the mess hall.  All about them, ponies went about their day under a cloud of stress and growing tension.  Everypony moved about with nervous, darting glances and overly quick steps.

“Are they at it again?” Gadget whispered.  Emberglow nodded.  Gadget shuddered, her own pace picking up.  Brightblade and Delver argued nearly every day, now.  They didn’t fight in front of the other soldiers, but that didn’t help anypony from hearing the muffled sounds of angry yelling coming from the pair whenever they were alone together.

In the mess hall, the cooks were gearing up to lunch, though it was a bit early.  Emberglow saw that they’d been busy.  Lunch looked fantastic; the cooks had gone all out with a huge spread of fresh fruit, vegetables, and tea sandwiches.  It was a veritable rainbow of fresh colors, bright and inviting.

“Woah,” Gadget exclaimed cheerfully.  “What’s the occasion?”

“Bitterroot’s idea,” Emberglow said, grinning.  “We need a bit of a fun feast.  Something to pick up spirits around here.”  She’d known what was coming, and had just wanted to see Gadget’s reaction.

“It’s a good idea,” Gadget grinned.  “So should we wait, or…”

“Rank has privileges,” Emberglow said, feeling bold, and moved over to the table with a smirk.  The cooks were still setting up, but nopony objected when she grabbed a plate and started loading it down with offerings. Gadget nervously followed suit.

“This is way better than camp rations,” Gadget giggled as she put a slice of watermelon and several grapes on her plate, before grabbing a pair of avocado sandwiches.  “It’s like a summer picnic.  I’ll bet this cost a lot.”

“It was all Bitterroot.  Her family has money, so the first day when she wrote back she told them to send vegetables and other goodies  with the mail,” Emberglow explained.  “Because it came from private donation, Brightblade couldn’t complain about misuse of resources. Not that he didn’t try.”

Emberglow and Gadget found seats across from each other, excited for the colorful plates of salad in front of them.  Gadget was right; it was a huge step up from the tasteless nutritional rations, full of grains and vitamins and absolutely no flavor.  They dug in eagerly.

Emberglow had chosen her seat deliberately, so she could see the reactions as ponies filtered in for lunch.  Brightblade scowled a little, but even he eagerly piled his plate before retreating to the privacy of another room.  Delver gave a rare smile, and the Redmane twins even let out a cheer.  By the time Bitterroot made it, there was a crowd of lighthearted soldiers and Knights, all happily chowing down on fresh salad for the first time in weeks.

“Bitterroot is a genius.  Who would have thought a little salad would do all this?” Gadget muttered with awe.  Emberglow nodded.

“It’ll only be temporary, though, if we don’t leave soon,” she said.  “At least, that’s what Bitterroot said.  I hope she’s wrong.  Or that the ship will finally arrive.”

“He’s still being quiet about when that is, huh?” Gadget whispered, and Emberglow nodded.  She didn’t need to ask who Gadget was speaking about.

“I think that’s what they were arguing about today.”  Emberglow nodded in Delver’s direction.  “Delver’s too professional to argue in public though.”

“Everypony knows he’s fighting for us,” Gadget snorted.  “Seriously, he’s probably the best Knight I’ve ever worked with.”  She seemed to catch what she’d said too late, and her eyes went wide even as Emberglow raised her eyebrows.  “I-I didn’t mean it like that!” she yelped, her face going red as she waved her hooves in a panic.  Emberglow was laughing.

“It’s okay, I know what you meant,” she shook her head in amusement.  “You’re allowed to like Delver more than you like me.”

“I like you plenty, Emberglow,” Gadget retorted, then flinched.  “Lady Emberglow.  Sorry.  I guess that’s the problem.  Sometimes I don’t think of you as a Knight.”

“I think…” Emberglow began thoughtfully, “you’re one of the only ponies that thinks like that.  Even my own parents feel distant sometimes.  You never have.  Thank you, Gadget.” She realized as she said it just how much she meant it, and the warmth in her chest burned out the icicle of fear.  She reached out and patted Gadget’s hoof.  “If it means you still treat me like a normal pony, you can call me Emberglow, if you like.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to, Lady Emberglow,” Gadget said ruefully.  “I can try, though.”


*   *   *   *   *


“Up and alert, you two.  Wake up the other Knights and the marines and send them to the airship field.  We’ll be onboard Irrepressible before the sun is up,” Brightblade said softly into Bitterroot and Emberglow’s tent, after two more bitter, boring weeks had passed.  It was one in the morning.  Brightblade waited long enough to ensure that the two were up and moving before exiting the tent.

“He couldn’t give us more warning?  Or have our departure be at a saner hour?  Or bring coffee?” Bitterroot said, sighing.

“Just thank the Saints we’re finally leaving.  I didn’t want to spend one more day sitting on my plot,” Emberglow grumbled sleepily, gathering her things. 

“Oh wow, Emberglow.  Did you just complain?” Bitterroot shot back with mock shock in her voice.  “You never complain.  You must be sleepier than you look.”

“Hush, you,” Emberglow said, shoving the veteran gently with one hoof.  “I complain sometimes.”

“You sure about that?” Bitterroot said, smirking.  The two ponies took a few seconds to stretch out stiff limbs and slip on their saddlebags, kept packed and ready at the foot of their cots for two weeks now.  It only took a few moments to change out of their sleepwear and into their robes.  There would be time onboard the airship to don their armor.  “You go left, I’ll go right?” the veteran asked, motioning to the rows of tents spreading out in the predawn darkness.

“Got it,” Emberglow said, moving to the nearest tent on the left, a tent shared by the Redmane twins.  She poked her head through the flap, barely able to see both twins curled up in their cots.  At least they hadn’t been fighting last night.

“Hey, wake up!” Emberglow said to announce her presence.  She had expected to go inside the tent and shake them awake, but at the sound of her voice both Adamants twitched in their beds and lifted up their heads.

“Huh?  Whazgoinon?” Tad slurred, while Gem blinked at her blearily.

“Our ship’s here.  We’re leaving before sunrise,” Emberglow said.  Both Adamants smiled and jumped out of bed, shaking out their manes and leaning over to hoof bump each other.

“Finally!” Tad crowed, while Gem pranced on all four hooves in excitement.

“I’ve got more tents to check.  Meet at the airship field when you’re ready.”

Emberglow went to the sergeants’ tents first, to have them help wake up their soldiers.  Many of the military ponies reacted much like the Redmanes, if a bit more subdued.  Most of them sprang out of bed with an energy that Emberglow admired.  She even got to wake up Gadget and Gearsmith in their tent.

“Best news in weeks,” Gadget told her with a bright smile, that Emberglow found herself returning.  She ignored the fluttering stomach that the beautiful smile gave her.  Gearsmith was also rising from his cot, though the look he was giving Emberglow was decidedly less warm.  It was the same kind of look he’d been giving her for two weeks now.

“I’m sorry, Gadget, but could you go check on Tumbleweed and Cliffjumper in their tents?  Gearsmith will get your kit and your saddlebags ready to go.” Emberglow said impulsively.  She hadn’t really planned it, but she was tired of the hard stares she was getting from somepony who was supposed to be a friend.  Gadget glanced between the Knight and her father, her expression pensive.  “Please?” Emberglow added.

“Um, yes, Lady Emberglow,” she said, and brushed past Emberglow out of the tent.  She stood still, watching the older engineer, who was slowly starting to look like he was being backed into a corner.

“Something I can do to help you, my lady?” Gearsmith asked, his voice just barely polite.  He slipped his own saddlebags on top of his combat uniform; apparently the marines had been sleeping in uniform in preparation for a sudden departure.

“Yes.  You can tell me what I did to make you angry at me,” Emberglow said.  She had never been very good with subtlety.

“Oh?  You don’t know?” Gearsmith said, his eyes not meeting Emberglow’s as he arranged some final personal items for his and his daughter’s saddlebags.  “Of course you wouldn’t notice.  You’re a Knight, we’re just little ponies.  You have far too many important things to do to notice the goings on of ponies like me and my daughter.”

“What?  No, stop.  I’ve never treated you that way!” Emberglow protested.  Gearsmith snorted.

“You don’t think so, do you?  But you’re just like Bubblegum.”

“No!” Emberglow cried out.  “I’m nothing like…”

“You don’t even realize it!” Gearsmith hissed, trying to keep his voice low.  “But sometimes you Knights just do whatever you want, and damn the consequences.  Do you think Bubblegum spent any time thinking about us when she was fucking that Saints-damned bird?  No!  But that didn’t stop the horseapples from falling on us anyways, did it?  If Delver hadn’t made his little deal, the entire team of marines could have ended up discharged, and then banished or in a reeducation camp!  The Mystic investigator was saying it as if it were a foregone conclusion!”

“But…I had nothing to do with that,” Emberglow said.  “It wasn’t my fault Bubblegum did, uh, what she did.”

“Of course not.  But you’ve got no problem setting up to do it again, aren’t you?”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, Gearsmith,” Emberglow hissed back.  She was beginning to grow angry herself.  How dare he compare her to Bubblegum?

“I know what my daughter is, and so do you,” Gearsmith said, his eyes snapping up to finally meet hers, and Emberglow felt her stomach turn to ice.  “I know what she’s been struggling with her whole life.  And she’s been doing well, by the grace of the Saints.  She’s been controlling it.  But then you flit into her life.  I’ve seen how you look at her.  How she looks at you.  You know what happens, Lady Emberglow, when you finally get caught?  You’re a Knight.  You’ll get a slap on the wrist.  An ‘official censure on your record’.  Stern, disapproving looks from your fellows.  There’s no real chance of you getting a week in the pillory.  A whipping.  A caning.  A banishment.  Or a noose.”

“Gearsmith, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ she took a breath, and started again.  “I’m not—.”  She stopped, the denial frozen on her lips, on the tip of her tongue.  The words caught because she knew absolutely they would be a lie.  Her anger and denial had evaporated, now there was only guilt and shame.  She groped for something to say to appease the soldier.  “I didn’t mean to give you a reason to worry.”  Emberglow flinched even before she finished saying it.  She knew just how limp and dead it sounded.  Gearsmith caught it as well, and laughed bitterly.

“Oh, you sound so remorseful, Emberglow,” he said.  Any hint of respect was gone from his voice.

“What would you like me to do about it?” Emberglow snapped back.  “I’d promise to stay away from her, but I can’t!  In case you didn’t notice, we’re about to parachute into Manehatten!”  Gearsmith flinched away from her sudden flash of anger, and Emberglow stepped forward, her mind boiling with fury.  “Maybe you’ve forgotten who you’re speaking with, marine.”  

As soon as the words left her lips, she wished she could claw them back.  Gearsmith’s entire body jerked, his eyes wide with shock, his ears quivering.  

There was a pause of silence, then Gearsmith spoke. “I have to get me and my daughter’s gear onboard the airship, my lady,” His temper was held only by the thinnest veneer of insincere respect.  “Do I have your leave to go?”

“Gearsmith, no, please.  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Emberglow said, her sudden burst of fury deflating as quickly as it had arisen.

“Do I have your leave, my lady?” Gearsmith insisted.  His whole body was shaking, whether from rage or fear or a combination of both.

“Gearsmith, we’re supposed to be friends.  I thought…”

“Do I have your leave!” he interrupted one last time, his teeth clenched tightly.  His eyes and ears had both drooped, and his tail was limp. He looked as if he was either about to drop at her knees and beg, or launch into a storming tirade.  Emberglow didn’t know what else to say.

“You may go,” she sighed, resigned, and he nodded, scooping up the last of his and Gadget’s gear as quickly as he could, before rushing out of the tent.  Emberglow blinked, feeling the tears in her eyes, before trotting over to Gadget’s cot.  With a flop, she plunged her face into the other mare’s pillow, hating herself for enjoying the scent of lavender soap and pretty mare, and screamed until she couldn’t breathe any longer.  Then she took a breath and screamed again.  That was all she had time for; there was work to do.


*   *   *   *   *


When she reached the airship field about half an hour later, after ensuring that everypony who was coming was awake, she saw soldiers loading crates onto an unfamiliar airship.  It was still too dark to make out many of the details, but it was clearly smaller and sleeker than the ship they’d flown in on.  Its hull was painted sky blue, with an off-white balloon.  Emberglow assumed it was meant to blend in with the sky.  From the size, she could tell there were only two decks, barely any space for storage, and only two large guns, one on each side of the hull.  On the staging ground near the airship spire, it was controlled chaos.  Marines rushed about organizing gear and helping Knights get their armor crates and weapons on board.  

She saw Gadget and Gearsmith having an animated discussion as he hauled his own large guns on board the airship.  Both of them appeared angry and afraid, though their voices were far too low to carry.  Emberglow decided that this was one storm she didn’t want to get caught in.  After ensuring that her own armor and weapons were being loaded on board, she bypassed the spire entirely by flying onto the deck of the airship herself.  Brightblade was already there, directing traffic.  He scowled when she touched down.

“Just stay out of the way,” he muttered at her. Emberglow nodded and found a spot out of the way, near the railing. She watched as ponies scurried about, loading supplies and equipment.  Like Brightblade had wished, the gear and ponies had all been loaded before the sun peeked above the horizon, though it was announcing its impending arrival with a pink glow in the clouds over the ruined city.  Brightblade barely waited until the ponies on the ground were clear before he ordered the new ship’s captain, an earth pony mare with black fur and a gray mane named Stormsfoal to take off into the predawn air.

“Ponies, it’s an hour and a half to our drop zone.  Knights, get in your armor.  Marines, get your gear in order and get ready to jump.  No relaxing.  This is the real deal, ponies.  Be ready.”  Brightblade was already dressed in his armor, and he took the sergeant of the pegasus scouts aside.  Soon there was a rotating patrol of scouts flying in front and to the sides of the airship.  While the pegasi could fly just a bit faster than the ship if they pushed themselves, it was far too fast for them to keep up the speed for a longer than a few minutes.  Brightblade wanted scouts, though, so the seven scouts took turns dashing in front of the airship for a few minutes before switching back to rest and get a drink.

As the sun finally rose, the bones of Manehatten were revealed in all their sad horror.  Rather than a few scattered stones or husks of buildings, the broken corpses of massive structures formed a forest that slowly became all Emberglow could see as they travelled closer to the center of the city.  Though overgrown with a thousand years of foliage, the evidence of ruined buildings, cramped together in tight blocks, could still be seen between the green patches.  The streets shattered and shifted unevenly throughout the ruins.  Crumbling buildings and iron struts reached into the sky like barren tree trunks, twisted and naked, glinting in the sun in between trees and greenery.  Emberglow was still fixated on the skeleton city when a pony sidled up beside her.

“Lady Emberglow, I wish to apologize for my earlier words,” Gearsmith said, and Emberglow looked at the stallion.  What she saw made her want to scream again.  The stallion stood, watching her with wary, fearful eyes.  His posture was slumped and weak, and his ears were pinned back.  “Clearly I misinterpreted the situation, and I implied things I had no idea about.  If you wish to punish me, I won’t object.  Just, please don’t hurt my daughter.”  By the end of his little speech, Gearsmith was shaking, and Emberglow felt sick.

“Gearsmith, no…” was all she managed before the marine bowed low and fled.  

This time, there was no pillow to scream into.

Was this how most ponies saw Knights?  Was this going to be her life from now, to be feared by other ponies?  He hadn’t acted this way before, back in Port Luminescence. After a glance over the deck, she found Gadget leaning up against a rail and trotted over.

“Everything okay with Dad?” she asked softly as Emberglow reached her.

“I…” Emberglow sighed.  “I don’t know,” she said honestly.  She didn’t feel right, trying to sugar coat things for Gadget.  “I think I scared him.”

“Oh,” Gadget said softly.  They stood, side by side in uncomfortable silence as sailors, Knights, and marines moved about behind them.  The two mares quietly watched the desiccated city slip away beneath them. The distance between them felt like a physical barrier to Emberglow, like a steel wall, but she didn’t feel like spending the few remaining minutes before their drop with anypony else.  Even when Brightblade came by to warn everypony that they would be jumping in ten minutes, Emberglow and Gadget didn’t leave the railing. 

“Armor on, everypony,” Brightblade called over the deck.  Ponies began shifting about, readying weapons and gear.

“Let me help you,” Gadget said, and Emberglow nodded solemnly.  In leaded silence, the two ponies worked together to get Emberglow into her armor.  When she was done, they returned wordlessly to the railing.

“I think that’s our drop site,” Gadget broke the silence suddenly, pointing at an uneven hill in the distance.  It was a huge stretch of land, largely untouched by the shattered ruins around it.  Like most of the ruins, though, it was still completely overgrown with wild flora.  Emberglow strained to look at the hill, wondering if she might see any sign of the legendary monsters that stalked the ruins.  All she saw, though, was the tops of the trees below.

“Ponies, we’re jumping in five minutes,” Brightblade called out.  “I’m sorry that we don’t have a Jubilant to lead us in prayer, so I’ll have to suffice.  Saints, defend us as we dive into the maw of nightmares.  Guide our hooves and our feathers to your will.  Saint Twilight, fill us with insight and inspiration.  Help us find what we’re looking for and keep it from the hooves of the accursed.  Saint Applejack, keep us safe from any within our number that would do us harm.  Saint Rainbow, guide our spear points and bullets, and bolster our armor with faith and confidence.  All Saints keep us.”

“All Saints keep us,” everypony intoned afterwards.

“Take these,” Brightblade said, passing a small bag to their group.  “I’ve cast a far-speaking spell on these ear clips.  Everypony wearing one should be able to hear what I’m saying, even over the wind and the air as we’re falling.”  There were enough for each Knight, and the sergeants of each marine fire team.  The clip was simple, a single piece of metal that could be attached to a pony’s ear.  Emberglow clipped hers on, and immediately could hear everything Brightblade was saying as if he were whispering in her ear, even though he was speaking softly from several feet away. It was slightly disturbing to hear his voice so close.

“Okay, ponies.  There’s something down there in Manehatten.  The heretics want it, so we know it’s important.  We have to find it before they do.  I have faith in all of you to do your duty.”  Emberglow saw his eyes twitch briefly in her direction.  “Everypony to the railing.  Stay close, trust in your teammates, your parachutes, and most of all, trust in the Saints.”

The smaller airship had a clever mechanism in the railing; with a wrench of a heavy lever, the entire railing rotated outward to be flush with the outside hull, removing the last inconvenience for the parachuting ponies.

“Time to go, ponies.  Jump!” Brightblade called, his voice a shout in Emberglow’s ear.  

The jump was an ordered affair; the pegasus scouts went first, sleekly muscled figures crouched tight like springs lunging off the side of the airship.  Their wings were clutched tightly to their sides as they dropped towards the ground like blue- and gold-clad arrowheads.  The two marine squads went next, barely a second after the pegasus fire team.

As each marine launched him or herself off the side of the airship, Emberglow was amazed at the looks on their faces.  Most of the marines showed no fear, and even those who appeared nervous still followed their fellows off the side.  Emberglow felt no fear, of course.  Even for a pegasus who rarely flew, she had never really experienced a fear of heights or falling.  Emberglow launched herself off the side of the airship when it was her turn, doing her best to emulate the liquid grace of the pegasus scouts.  Even though she’d never flown this high before, the sensation of weightlessness, of air flowing over and under her body, was a familiar one.  

Emberglow watched as one after another, white canvas parachutes opened up above the distant figures as they dropped towards the surface.  Other indistinct figures slowed drastically as their wings spread, their trajectories shifting from steep dives to swooping arcs that cut under and through the earth ponies with parachutes.  

Emberglow opened up her own wings, feeling the harsh winds of her fall cutting through her feathers as the wind resistance threatened to tear her apart.  Her wings ached, but it was a momentary sensation as she pulled up out of her dive into a curve much like the other pegasi.  She looked and saw Silverfeather, the Adamant pegasus, above her and to the north about thirty feet.  Emberglow got a nod from the pegasus as the two of them split apart, swooping among the parachuting earth ponies to make sure nopony was having difficulties. 

“Knights, shield spells!” she suddenly heard Brightblade cry in her ear, before he grunted with pain.  Emberglow whipped her head about, trying to look at what Brightblade was worried about.  She was just barely able to glimpse the bright whizzing missile shooting upwards through the air.  

She moved on instinct, furling one wing while catching as much air in the other as possible, lurching to the side just in time to dodge the glowing red missile.  It shot past her, exploding with a loud pop into a burst of bright, glowing red embers whizzing through the air.

“Fireworks?” Emberglow said out loud, though the noise was whipped away by the wind.  There were bright explosions everywhere, green and orange and blue and red, leaving trails of smoke as they shot from the ground towards the parachuting ponies.  Belatedly, she remembered what Brightblade had ordered, and lit up her gauntlet to cast a hasty shield spell.  She could see the glowing trails as the various Knights, spread throughout the air, cast their own spells around themselves.  

As soon as she finished casting her spell, Emberglow glanced to the ground below, trying to find the source of the fireworks being shot at them.  She tried to gain her bearings as the shrill whistle as dozens more fireworks fired towards them.  These ones didn’t explode with light and fire, however, but with clouds of black smoke.  The nearest showered Emberglow with soot, blinding her in a sudden stinging burst of acrid smoke.  She coughed and choked, flapping her wings unevenly as she tried to escape the cloud.  

“They’re firing fireworks at us?” Brightblade said incredulously. He sounded confused, but Emberglow felt a dagger of horror slice into her chest, just as Brightblade’s voice dropped with terrified comprehension.  “Oh, I see.  Oh, Saints.  The parachutes!  A shield won’t help you if your parachute’s on fire!”  His voice was panicked, and as Emberglow managed to escape the smoke cloud she could see at least five of the white canvas canopies already on fire.  It wasn’t making the earth ponies underneath drop more quickly just yet, but it was only a matter of time.  “Pegasi, note which parachutes are on fire.  Be ready to catch anypony who drops.  Saints protect us!”

It was too far away for Emberglow to identify which ponies were in trouble, but she could clearly make out several parachutes that were compromised by burns.  The first one she glanced at had a few singed holes in it, but the chute itself wasn’t burning, so she dismissed it.  The second had much larger holes and was dropping far too quickly, but she watched as a scout pegasus swooped down and took hold of the flailing earth pony, slowing his fall.  Emberglow pumped her wings as hard as she could, dashing towards the third.  The marine pony wasn’t dropping too quickly, but the terrified look on his face practically begged for rescue.  She winged her way until she was dropping even with the marine.

“Help me!” he cried.

“Of course, marine, let me…” she shouted, reaching out to try and catch hold of his hooves.  

She didn’t hear the whizzing noise until it was too late.  Emberglow clenched her eyes shut just in time as her instincts kicked in.  Even behind her eyelids she saw the bright explosion of yellow light, coupled with a loud, violent bang, followed by a ringing that muted out everything else Emberglow could hear.  She felt the impact of the explosion on her shield and the wind as she was tossed wildly away by the pressure of the explosion.  She opened her eyes as soon as she was able, righting herself from her careening spin as quickly as possible.  She glanced over to where the marine still fell, her heart going cold.

The marine she’d been trying to help was now limp in his chute.  There didn’t appear to be much more damage to the chute itself, but the pony was probably dead.  The burns to his chest and face were severe, with major tissue damage.  The magical shield Emberglow had protected her from the entirety of the explosion, but the marine had had none of that defense.  She flew back over to the pony for a closer inspection, dreading, but already knowing what she would see.

  He was not breathing. His one remaining eye was glassy and unfocused, his other a mass of charred flesh and blood.  She swallowed a lump in her throat before she flapped away, looking about for other ponies she could help.

Another explosion boomed overhead.  Emberglow glanced up and saw a single earth pony figure careening through the air, a ruined parachute trailing behind it.  Many of the marines looked the same in their blue and gold uniforms, but there was only one pony with that blue coat and black mane.

“Not him,” Emberglow moaned, and once again pumped her slightly tired wings to dash after Gearsmith.  He was tangled up in his parachute cords, and  his chute had been burnt practically to cinders and rags.  It was doing nothing whatsoever to arrest his downward fall.

Gearsmith wasn’t screaming or yelling as she approached, and Emberglow feared the worst until she grew close enough to see his panicked breathing, his chest pumping with each intake and exhale.  She caught a glimpse of his terrified expression as she furled her wings, stretching her body into an aerodynamic pose so that she fell faster than him.  Once she was below him, she extended her wings slightly to slow her fall.   As Gearsmith's hooves made contact with her back, she heard him grunt in surprise.

“Hold on.  Try not to interfere with my wings!” she shouted, spreading the feathery appendages to slow them.  Suddenly Gearsmith’s entire weight was on her back, and she strained to keep them both in the air on tired wings.  She knew it would be impossible to fly like this, but she was hoping for at least a controlled glide.  

As soon as she spread her wings fully, however, she realized that control was wishful thinking.  The winds buffeted her wings, and she felt them shaking and twitching as the strong gales threatened to push her into an uncontrolled spin.  

Emberglow felt Gearsmith carefully reposition himself on her back, his hooves wrapping around her barrel tightly, but not enough to interfere with her flying, just as she had asked.

“How can I help?” he asked, his voice shaking with fear.  She was sure he had noticed her own trembling, unsteady wings, and perhaps also the fact that they were still falling, albeit at a much slower rate than before.

“Try to hold still as much as possible,” Emberglow shouted back to him.  “If we survive this landing it’s going to be rough.  I’m sorry I’m not a stronger flier.”

“I was saying my last prayers for a good rebirth, and for Gadget’s wellbeing.  I thought I was dead,” Gearsmith said.  His voice trailed off, and Emberglow could barely hear him over the howling of the air in her ears.

“I guess we’ll try to roll when we land,” she shouted.  She glanced around, looking for the hill that was supposed to be their landing zone.  The wild flying, dodging fireworks and trying to swoop in to rescue ponies had taken Emberglow and Gearsmith at least a half mile to the north of the landmark, and the ground was quickly approaching.

“The best we’re going to manage is a rough landing,” Emberglow yelled.  “I’ll try to aim for the softest patch of dirt or grass I can see.” 	She began looking for a likely spot, her gaze latching onto a likely meadow below.  She did her best to angle her descent into a slow, downward spiral, trying to time it so that their inevitable crash would land them in the hopefully softer grass of the meadow, and not on the jagged, moss covered bricks that surrounded it.

“How many do you think we lost?” Gearsmith asked suddenly, and Emberglow knew who he was really thinking about.

“I don’t know.  Brightblade has been silent since right around when the attacks started.   Sorry, Gearsmith,” she replied, her voice straining at the effort it took to maintain even her shaky course.  Gearsmith probably noted her growing fatigue, as he didn’t say anything more.

The ground was growing steadily nearer.  Emberglow could make out the details of the grassy meadow, including some disturbing looking thorny bushes.  Hoping that she had at least enough control to avoid those, she did her best to angle her wings to hit the grass rather than the thorns.  

She managed to make it about fifteen feet above the meadow before her wings finally gave out.  With a pained yelp, the two ponies tumbled the rest of the distance to the ground.  Emberglow did her best to roll with the impact, but between the earth pony on her back, her saddlebags, her armor, and her spear in its sheath, it was a far less graceful impact than she could have hoped.  Frankly, with the way her wings and legs got all tangled up in the remaining lines from Gearsmith’s parachute it was a miracle she didn’t break something.  

Hurting all over, she did her best to rise quickly, coughing dust and dirt from the rough landing.  She took a few seconds to check herself over, stretching each limb slowly to make sure nothing was sprained.  She was sore, and there would be some nasty bruises, but all of her appendages seemed to be functioning.

“Lady Emberglow, are you okay?” Gearsmith said, rushing over as he extricated himself from his parachute.  She was a little surprised that he had managed to get up faster than her.  He was limping, favoring his right rear leg, and some of his fur was singed, as was the last few inches of his tail.  There were rope burns on his front right leg, and Emberglow could see a jagged tear in the left side of the uniform on his barrel.  It was slightly damp with blood.

“You’re wounded,” she said, reaching out to gently brush away his uniform to look at the wound.  He hissed softly at the pain, but pushed her hoof away as soon when she raised her rune gauntlet to begin a healing spell.

“No.  Save your motes, Lady Emberglow.  There will be more deserving ponies soon, I’m sure.  I’ll be fine with a bit of bandaging, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Emberglow said.  “Keep an eye out for us while I patch you up, Gearsmith.”

“Yes ma’am,” the marine said.  Emberglow unhooked her saddlebags, rooting around for her bandages and first aid.  While Gearsmith stood, his gaze drifting vigilantly across the trees that surrounded their meadow, Emberglow tore away his ripped uniform from around the rope burn wound in his barrel.  

He was right, the wound wasn’t dire.  In his fall, one of the lines of his parachute had become wrapped around his barrel and had torn his uniform.  The rope burn was just bad enough to have broken the skin, and blood oozed slowly from the wound.  Emberglow did her best to clear away the dirt.

“There’s nothing to wash it with,” Emberglow complained to herself.  “I’ll need to cast a spell anyways.  Don’t worry, it doesn’t take much.”

“You’re the doctor, I suppose,” Gearsmith said.  Emberglow cast a quick spell to disinfect the wound, and applied a large, flat compress to the wound before wrapping a bandage around the marine’s barrel.  Gearsmith was a model patient, not complaining in the slightest, except for a sharp intake of breath when she placed the compress.

“Not too tight?” Emberglow asked as she tied off the bandage.  Gearsmith shook his head stoically.  “Good.  We’ve got to head to the hill.  That was supposed to be our landing zone.  I imagine that’s where everypony else is going to congregate.”  She picked up her spear.  “Do you have a weapon?”

“No, ma'am. My big guns are in one of the supply drops we shoved off the airship.  I can’t really operate them by myself anyways,” Gearsmith said.  “But I’ve been trained in hoof to hoof combat.  I’m not helpless in a fight, even without my guns.”

“Okay,” Emberglow said, trying to sound confident.  Gearsmith nodded silently.  It took Emberglow a few seconds to realize the veteran marine was waiting for her to issue orders, a fact that gave rise to a bubble of panic in her heart.  She tamped it down ruthlessly.  “Let’s head out.  Stay close, and keep an eye out for whoever was shooting those fireworks at us.

“Yes ma’am,” Gearsmith said.  He helped her put her saddlebags back on before they both set off.  Emberglow took the lead, finding an opening in the bramble patches to the north.  “Have you seen what happened to anypony else?”

“No,” Emberglow said.  “We spread out too much.”

“How many do you think we lost?” he asked grimly.  

Emberglow shook her head as she used her spear to push some vines out of their way.  The forest was thick with undergrowth, and the dense canopy above them cut out much of the morning light.  The forest was alive with the sounds of living things.  Vines reached down from the trees like long, grasping fingers.  The air was damp and misty, and Emberglow felt a distinct sense of not belonging, almost as if the forest had a mind of its own, and it did not want her there.  She silently chided herself for her silly superstitious thoughts, but that didn’t stop the fur from standing on end on the back of her neck.  

She shook her head again, this time to try and clear her thoughts.  She brushed some of her red mane out of her face, an errant strand that had escaped her ponytail in all the adventure, before remembering that Gearsmith had asked a question.

“Don’t think like that, soldier,” she said softly.  “I’m sure Gadget’s just fine.”

“Did you see her as we were falling?” Gearsmith asked.  Emberglow shook her head.

“No, I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean anything.  I only saw a few falling, most still had working parachutes from what I could see.  I…” she trailed off, thinking of the first marine she’d tried to save.  “I couldn’t catch the first one I tried to save, Gearsmith.”

“Do you know who it was?” he asked.  Emberglow shook her head.

“One of the ponies from Fire Team Corona.  I don’t remember his name,” Emberglow admitted, and her stomach roiled with guilt at the admission.  Surely she should remember all the names of the ponies whose lives she was responsible for, right?  She tried to not let the poisonous shame and uncertainty slip into her voice.  “How’s your wound?”

“Hurts to walk, but not too bad,” Gearsmith said honestly.  Emberglow nodded, noting silently to herself that she’d have to keep a close eye on his gait, to make sure it didn’t get worse.

 The vines were thick enough that a sword or a machete would have been handy, so each yard of progress took far too long for her tastes.  At this rate, it would take two or three hours just to cover a mile.

“Oh, bless the Saints,” Emberglow moaned gratefully as she stepped into a dry stream bed.  The bottom was damp and muddy, but there was no water flowing down it.  It led uphill, slightly to the northeast.

“What?” Gearsmith asked.

“Dry stream bed.  Probably from rain or snow runoff.  We’ll follow it for a bit, hopefully it will stay moving in the right direction.  The ground’s a bit moist, but it should be easier going than hacking through all these vines.”

The stream bed turned out to be a gift from the Saints.  The mud clung wetly to their hooves, and the cold moisture sunk into their fur and leg muscles, but the progress was much quicker.  Though the stream meandered back and forth through the forest, it generally stayed on a northern course, moving gently uphill hopefully towards Central Hill.  Over time, though, the dampness and slickness of the mud grew, until the two ponies were actually walking through a trickle of icy, brackish water.  It wasn’t moving very quickly.  Emberglow and Gearsmith did their best to avoid the most of the water, but soon they were shivering with cold.

“We might need to—“ Emberglow began, then stopped.  There were noises up ahead.  Splashing and cries.  “You hear that?” Emberglow asked, holding out a hoof to stop Gearsmith.

“Yeah.  Somepony’s shouting.”

“Let’s go,” Emberglow said, breaking into a canter, the cold numbness seeping into her hooves and up her legs no longer a pressing issue on her mind.  As they ran, the dry streambed widened into a muddy frothing pond.  Brownish algae-saturated water filled a small recess in the hill, surrounded by moss covered stones and rotting trees.  The limbs of the trees reached out over the icy pond.  

A pony dangled by her parachute straps over the pond from one of the longer limbs.  It was Sergeant Arrow.  She seemed uninjured, but she wasn’t the only figure near the pond.  There were two other ponies, and a monster out of some nightmare.

The monster was easily ten times the size of a pony.  It was superficially similar in appearance to a frog, with mottled dark green rubbery flesh, dripping with pond water, and a long, wide mouth.  Its hind legs were bent like a frog’s, thick with bulging muscle.  That was where the similarities ended, however.  Its eyes were attached to its head above its mouth by fleshy stalks, nearly a hoof’s length tall, and there were three of them.  Instead of forelimbs, it had six tentacles, three springing from each side of its bulky torso.  

One of the ponies was limp, his wings splayed out at odd angles, his body weakly twitching as he lay on the shore of the pond.  It was Cliffjumper, the pegasus medic.  He was breathing, but his eyes were closed.  The second pony was Gadget, muddy and bruised, standing ankle deep in the pond water.  Emberglow tried to ignore how her heart leapt to see her friend safe and on her hooves, at least for now.  She held a gnarled piece of wood, shaking it about menacingly like a spear to ward off the creature that was trying to eat all three of them.

The creature whipped the snakelike appendages back and forth, trying to seize either Gadget or one of the helpless ponies.  One was snaked around Arrow’s left hind hoof, but the very parachute straps that kept the sergeant trapped dangling under the tree limb also kept her from being dragged into the waiting maw of the frog monstrosity.

“Go around the pond, help your daughter,” Emberglow ordered, her voice a low whisper.  She didn’t even look to see if Gearsmith acknowledged the order; he would have gone straight for Gadget even if she hadn’t said anything.  

Focusing her sights on the creature, she tightened her hold on her spear and leapt into the air, her wing muscles aching in protest at their use so soon after her earlier crash.  She flew across the pond in a mad dash, holding her spear out in front of her like a lance, aimed at the creature.

Emberglow spared a glance at her friend just in time to see Gadget’s look of desperation flash into an elated grin as the young mechanic caught sight of the Knight Radiant.  She didn’t have time to say anything before she reached her target, folding her wings into a dive just behind and above the monster, her spear braced in front of her for a stab fueled by mass and momentum.

The frog monster’s central eye must have caught some sign of movement, because it swiveled just in time to see the Knight dropping onto it from above.  The creature lurched forward to dodge the diving pegasus, but Emberglow’s spear found its mark in the monster’s thick, rubbery flesh.  Rather than impaling the monster through its head, like Emberglow had hoped, the spear tip impacted the flesh, then dug a deep furrow through the monster’s muscular back before the creature jerked and shoved the spear away.  Emberglow groaned in frustration as she flapped her wings, pulling up just as her hooves skimmed the surface of the pond.  

The monster was quick to spin around to face this new threat, whipping its tentacles into a broad swing that moved almost faster than Emberglow could react.  All three of the appendages from one side of the frog impacted Emberglow’s side, and she only had a half second to brace herself for the blow.  Emberglow’s armor absorbed most of the attack, but the momentum of the strike knocked her out of the air and into the shallow water nearer the shore.  More cold water seeped into her gambeson, spreading numb wetness through her limbs.

Her bruised body ached and screamed for her to stay down, but it wasn’t an option.  She had to get up.  Had to distract the thing, so the others could get free. She silently thanked the Saints that  she had held onto her spear when the monster had flung her.  She stood up and braced her weapon, ready for the monster to charge her.

The creature had other plans, however.  Rather than an enraged charge, the frog swung with its other tentacle set, using them like a club to batter at the Knight.  Emberglow dodged to the side as the limbs descended from above her to splash violently into the water.  Brackish filth sprayed in her face, and all over her armor.  As Emberglow tried to clear her vision from the water, the monster struck again in the same way, three tentacles swinging from above.  She dodged again, and the creature began to strike rapidly, alternating limbs in huge, battering ram blows that tossed up icy water and mud everywhere.  Emberglow tried desperately to back away, drawing him further from the wounded and trapped marines, but it was all she could do to keep dodging the strikes.  

She spared a glance for the two standing marines.  Gearsmith and Gadget were quietly circling around the back of the creature, looking for a chance to strike at it, and her heart filled with cold dread.

“Get the sergeant free!” Emberglow shrieked desperately.  She had managed to hit the frog once, and it had barely slowed it down.  She knew they had little chance of defeating or killing it.  The two marines paused, then rushed back towards their sergeant.  “Get the pegasus out of the way too!  Further into the woods!”  She really hoped the monster didn’t speak their language.

Fortunately the monster didn’t turn from Emberglow when she shouted out her orders.  Unfortunately, the monster did take advantage of the Knight’s moment of distraction to launch a vicious double-limbed attack, swiping diagonally down in a ‘V’ shape towards her.  Emberglow raised her spear to parry the strike, but the monster surged forward.  The tentacles impacted the spear about halfway down their length, and the monster used its weight and leverage to press down against Emberglow, driving her into the mud.  The slimy, narrow tips of the tentacles snaked back around behind her, and before she realized what had happened two of them had seized her back legs.  With a quick yank, Emberglow was upended hind first into the air, her face splashing down into the mud.

The monster wasted no time disorienting its prey, spinning Emberglow around in midair while she coughed and sputtered.  Two more tentacles wrapped around her barrel, trying to immobilize her wings, while another tried to strangle her.  She whipped her head around, doing her best to avoid the limb attempting to choke out her air.  She was struggling just enough that the frog’s tentacles couldn’t get a good grip around her neck, so the creature tried a different tactic.  Opening its wide maw, Emberglow saw hundreds of sharp, brown stained teeth and a writhing tongue.  The tongue, much thicker and shorter than the frog’s tentacles, oozed with some sort of sticky slime.  

Before she could do anything, the tongue shot out and stuck to her armor’s peytral, and Emberglow screamed in disgust and fear.  The tongue was nearly as thick across as her neck, and it stuck to the metal plate like glue.  Even though her front hooves were not stuck by the tentacles, she didn’t have enough time to try to loosen the armor piece before the mutant frog jerked her into its maw and bit down hard.  Emberglow flinched, waiting for the crushing pain as the creature’s pointed brown teeth ground and clenched against the armor on her barrel and flanks.  The tentacle that had been trying to strangle her was now shoving against her helmet and face, trying to shove her head into the frog’s mouth as well.

The air was full of screeching sounds as tooth ground against metal.  Sharp, stinging pain stabbed into Emberglow’s flank as one tooth found the smallest of cracks in her armor, but mostly her armor kept her safe, for now.  Squirming around as much as she could, she tried to beat at the creature’s face with the haft and blade of her spear.  The weapon bounced off the monster’s nose as its eyestalks thrashed about, dodging the clumsy attack.

“Emberglow!” Gadget shouted from shore.  The frog was facing away from the other ponies, so Emberglow couldn’t see what they were doing.

“Just get the sergeant and the medic to safety!” Emberglow shouted.  “Go!”  Her attempts to wiggle free were pointless, so she tried to stab at the frog’s eyes.  The disgusting orbs were far too dexterous to hit with the tip of her spear, however, and the creature finally got the idea to try and immobilize the spear itself.  The tentacle began wrapping around the haft of her spear, and she knew that if her weapon was out of the picture, she was dead.  

With a sudden flash of inspiration, Emberglow spun the spear so that the tip was facing not the creature, but her own chest.  With all the force she could muster for the awkward strike, she thrust the spear into the soft tissue of the creature’s tongue.

The monster shook violently, a low warble of pain and distress squeezing from its throat.  Brownish red sludge seeped from the wound in its tongue, and it jerked and twisted to try and dislodge the weapon or retract its stuck tongue.  Its jaws clenched down harder, now apparently trying to simply crush Emberglow between its muscled jaws.  She felt the few teeth that had managed to slip into seams in her armor stabbing deeper into her flanks, sending a burning knife of pain into her hind end.

“Didn’t like that, did you?” she muttered, pulling out the spear, its tip now covered with the foul blood of the frog monster.  “Your skin’s hard, but not your mouth?  Maybe you shouldn’t have put me inside it then.”  Just barely, a glimmering flame of hope lit in her mind.  Maybe she’d survive this after all.

“Lady Rainbow, please,” she prayed simply as she angled the spear deeper inside the thing’s mouth. Maybe it would like a strike to the soft palate even less than it had a wound in its tongue.  There wasn’t much room for her to move to gain leverage, but she did her best to maneuver her free hooves enough to ram the weapon into the top of the frog’s mouth.  She couldn’t see, but rather felt the tip of the weapon meet resistance, then slip further in.  

This time the creature shrieked with rage, thrashing its maw back and forth with pain and fury.  Emberglow was rather suddenly flung from the monster’s maw by her trapped hind legs.  Her spear, lodged in the creature’s mouth, was wrenched from her hooves as she tumbled through the air far too quickly to right herself.  With a solid thwack and the crack of splitting wood she crashed into one of the trees on the shore stomach first, knocking the wind out of her as she flopped to the ground.

The first sound Emberglow heard as she regained her senses was stomping hooves and indistinct shouting.  She was face down in the sandy soil, and felt hooves along her sides and barrel lifting her up, trying to get her to her hooves.  Shaking, with pain still burning in her flank, she let the ponies near her help her up.

“Run,” she managed, blinking, as she took in the two ponies around either side.  It was Gadget and Sergeant Arrow, holding her up on either side.  “Get out of here.”

“Not without you, Lady Emberglow,” the sergeant said.  “C’mon, we’ll help you run.  Gearsmith has the medic.  Let’s go before that Saints-damned monster stops chewing on your spear.” 

Bolstered on either side by the two mares, Emberglow took the first few faltering steps into the relative safety of the dense forest.  Her front legs were sore but functional, though her hind legs were slowly growing numb.  This was a bad sign, but now was not the time to worry about it.  She stumbled a few times, but was held up by the mares on either side of her.  Progress was slow through the foliage, but from the enraged sounds of the creature behind them, the closely growing trees were clearly more of an inconvenience to the frog creature than they were to the ponies.  

By the time Emberglow couldn’t hear the frog monster any longer, she was freezing, in agony all over, and barely conscious.  A cold sort of sting was spreading from her wounded flank through the rest of her body.  Before she slipped away, she had just enough presence of mind to mutter out a warning.

“I think... poisonous…”
> Chapter 18
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 18


	Official Report, written by Captain Stormsfoal of Irrepressible

	Sir Steadfast,

	I dropped the package off at the delivery address.  Some trouble, casualties confirmed, but mission proceeding as planned.  Contact will be limited.

	Area is heavily infested with termites, and my ship’s wood.  Don’t recommend extraction via airship.

	Will be back home in five days for a more complete report.

	Captain Stormsfoal

1112 AF, Ruins of Manehatten

	Emberglow woke in a tent.  She couldn’t see because it was too dark, but the smell of military canvas, of dust and sweat and gunpowder, was unmistakable.  She was on her stomach, her limbs spread out on a padded bedroll, and there was a wet spot near her muzzle that she realized, with embarrassment, was drool.  She lifted a hoof to wipe her mouth, wincing at the stiff muscle ache that came with the motion.  She looked around slowly, letting her eyes become accustomed to the darkness.

It was a two pony tent, smaller and more cramped than the ones back at the outpost, but with a similar triangular style.  There was no room for cots, so the bedrolls had been placed right on the packed dirt.  Emberglow could see her saddlebags close by, as well as the pieces of her armor stacked on the empty bedroll in the tent.  It was hard to tell in the darkness, but it looked like somepony had taken the time to clean and polish her armor after her involuntary mud bath earlier.  Her gambeson was clean as well, folded next to her armor.  

She felt her face heating with embarrassment as she realized that meant somepony had undressed her.  Instinctively, she tried to lurch to her feet to dress herself, but remaining stiffness and bandages on her flank tripped her up and she slumped back into the bedroll with a hiss of pain.

There was a sudden flood of light into the tent as the flap was pulled aside.  Emberglow clumsily shielded her eyes with one hoof, which brought a chuckle from the pony who’d entered her tent.

“Sorry, didn’t know you were awake,” came Medic Sea Star’s gentle voice.  “Lady Bitterroot will be pleased.  She asked me to come check on you and your bandages, but neither of us expected you to be awake so soon.”

“Where am I?” Emberglow asked.

“We’re calling it Camp Hilltop.  Not very creative, I know, cuz it’s a camp… on top of a hill…”  Sea Star laughed, though it was strained.  She pulled back the sheet that had been covering Emberglow, revealing her wounded and bandaged hindquarters.  Her motions were routine and clinical, and Emberglow felt only a token embarrassment at being nude in front of another pony.  Sea Star was a professional, after all.  “Central Hill, specifically.  We may have lost some ponies in the descent, but we’re camped in our planned LZ and Lady Joyful Sound has set up her equipment.”

“How many casualties?” Emberglow asked, and watched the medic flinch as she began to unwrap the bandage.

“Too many,” Sea Star muttered.  “Only one Knight, though.  Sir Redmane’s body was found only about fifty yards from the LZ, with a destroyed chute.  Four marines are dead for sure, and seven more are missing.  Sir Brightblade wanted the scouts to go look for the missing, but…”

“But what?” Emberglow asked, still reeling from the horrific tally.

“We’re under siege here.  Sir Brightblade and Sir Delver managed to put up a shield around the camp to protect us from the mortars, but every so often heretic unicorns out there in the ruins will fire something at us.  They’ve got other firearms as well.  We’re penned in.  We’ve dug trenches in case the shield falls, but we’re low on supplies.  Our supply drops were the first things the heretics on the ground targeted.”

“Okay,” Emberglow said slowly.  The medic finished removing the bandage and Emberglow saw, for the first time, her own wounded flank. There were four jagged puncture wounds, each one nearly an inch apart, just below her cutie mark on her right rear leg.  It was clear she’d benefited from healing magic; they looked like wounds that had been healing for weeks.  Suddenly she remembered the cold, numbing sensation of the monster’s poison.  “I was poisoned!  The creature that bit me, I’m sure it was…”

“Calm down, Lady Emberglow.  Standing orders from Lady Bitterroot.  Everypony who was bitten or stung or clawed by whatever critters are out there gets checked out by somepony who can magically heal poison.  She casts the spells herself.  How do you feel now?”

“Stiff.  Hurting.  I could probably get to work and do something useful.  How many other wounded are there to tend to?”

“Nopony as badly as you, thankfully, though we are short hooved.  There’s no other cases that need regular tending like you did, thankfully. The rest of the wounded are up and moving.  Cliffjumper didn’t make it.”

“Oh,” Emberglow said sadly.  She hadn’t known the pegasus medic for long, but it stung to realize somepony under her command was now gone.  She remembered the last time she’d seen him, he’d been alive but wounded on the shore of the muddy pond.  Sea Star pulled a tube of antibiotic ointment from her own saddlebags and rubbed a bit onto the puncture wounds before wrapping a fresh bandage.

“Everypony will be glad you’re up and about though, Lady Emberglow,” Sea Star said, injecting her voice with as much cheer as she could manage.  Emberglow could tell it was a bit forced.  “Your wound looks clean, Lady Bitterroot’s spell worked just fine.  The wounds look like they’ve been healing for a month or more, which is exactly what the Lady told me to expect.  Is there any pain?”

Emberglow stretched her hind legs cautiously, twisting this way and that, feeling the stretch of the skin and fur around the wound.  There was a bit of tightness, and a little soreness, but no real pain.

“Not really, no,” Emberglow said.  When Sea Star raised her eyebrows, Emberglow laughed softly.  She knew that look; she’d used it on some stubborn patients in the past.  “Truly.  I’m fine.  There’s some soreness and tightness, but I feel like my leg has full range of motion.”

“Good.  Don’t strain yourself, if you can help it,” Sea Star said.  Emberglow laughed again, and the medic quirked her head inquisitively.

“Sorry, it’s just funny to be on the other side of this conversation,” Emberglow said.  “Don’t worry, I’ll be a good patient.”

“Funny you say that,” Sea Star said with a smirk.  “Other medics sometimes make the worst patients.”

“I’ll do my best to subvert those expectations,” Emberglow said wryly.  “Now, may I get dressed, medic?  I’d like to see the camp.”

“You’re cleared to get out of bed, Lady Emberglow.  Just…” The medic took a deep breath, glancing back at the tent flap.  “Don’t get your expectations up about the camp.  There’s not much to see.  When you’re ready, Lady Bitterroot would like to see you.  She’ll be in the command tent, the big one in the middle of camp.” With that, Sea Star slipped out of the tent, leaving Emberglow with some privacy to assemble and don her armor.

It had been impossible for Emberglow to miss the dejected note in Sea Star’s tone.  She supposed that, in the absence of a Knight Jubilant, the two Radiants were going to be responsible for camp morale, which meant this was the sort of thing she’d have to pay attention to.  She decided to see for herself what was happening in the camp before she asked any questions, however. Standing up with a careful stretch of her limbs, she trotted over to put on her armor.   

Though it was clear somepony had cleaned and polished her armor, Emberglow was still a bit unsettled by the row of dents in the flanchard, complete with scratched paint.  The dents had been beaten out so that the armor fit the same, but Emberglow couldn’t shake the feeling of the protective metal closing in, squeezing in on her flanks.  With an amused snort at her overactive imagination, she finished tightening the straps and buckles on her armor.

When Emberglow pushed aside the tent flap, she was assaulted by the bright light of midmorning.  She had lost track of time after she had dropped unconscious, but it looked like she’d been out of it for just under a day.  It had been just about noon when she’d fought the frog monster, and she’d passed out shortly after that.  She had to take a moment to readjust to the light before she could look around.

The camp was perched on top of a wide hill, devoid of most foliage except for scrub grass and bushes.  The soil was littered with stones the size of apples, most of which appeared to be the remains of bricks shed from nearby ruined buildings.  A narrow trench, capped on the outside by a built-up earthwork, ringed the outside of the camp and faced down the hill towards the surrounding trees.  Emberglow could barely make out the signs of a large domed magical shield, glowing with faint purple energy, just touching the edges of the camp outside the earthworks.  Scattered about inside the camp were a collection of tents, the largest of which had been dug partially into the ground and covered with dirt and sod as camouflage.  Several marines were busy doing the same for the tents, one at a time, digging out foxholes in the earth to make them as safe as possible from oncoming projectiles and magical beams.  The whole thing gave the camp an air of short-term permanence that made Emberglow nervous.  Everything she’d seen about Manehatten suggested they didn’t really want to stay in one place for long.

Outside the camp, the hill sloped down steeply until it reached a line of trees.  The transition was abrupt, as if some giant had drawn a line between hill and forest with a thick crayon.  Emberglow knew personally just how thick that foliage was; she’d struggled through it herself for a while.  She knew there were heretics and mutants out there, somewhere, and with the undergrowth as thick as it was, it would be easy for them to grow close and fire on the camp without being seen.  The camp was high, and easily defended, but it would also be difficult to attack from.  That was probably what Brightblade had in mind; they needed time, after all, to set up and use Joyful Sound’s detection equipment and find the anomaly that had sent them here in the first place.  There was only one real break in the thick forest: a single strip of beaten dirt, like the remains of a path, leading up the hill.

The camp was full of noise, but it was a subdued and somber noise, unlike the frequently cheerful cacophony that had often filled the Outpost they’d just left.  Emberglow took a moment to look at the faces of the Marines working in camp.  Most were digging foxholes, but there were some patrolling in the trench along the earthworks.  Their faces were set and serious, businesslike with little hint of joy or cheer.  It made her nervous, knowing she was responsible for keeping these ponies’ morale up.  Several did seem to brighten as they saw her out of her tent, and a few waved. 

“I can show you to the command tent, if you want,” Sea Star said to Emberglow’s right.  Emberglow nodded, even though she had already picked it out as the largest tent.

“Everypony seems down,” Emberglow commented softly.  Sea Star said nothing, but her mouth tightened.  “Is it just because of our losses?”

“Not my place to say,” the medic said after a long pause.  Emberglow shrugged.  The two of them reached the command tent, where the two ponies could hear three voices, whispering intensely in an argument.  Emberglow descended the narrow earthen ramp into the recessed tent.  She pushed the camouflaged tent flap aside and stepped into the dark interior.  The whispered conversation immediately paused as soon as Emberglow entered the tent.

Inside, Brightblade, Delver, and Bitterroot sat around a low table, sat with a crudely drawn map.  All three showed evidence of small minor wounds; Delver had a bandage around his right front hoof, Bitterroot’s face and neck were covered with scrapes and nicks, and Brightblade was missing over half of his right ear.  Emberglow suddenly realized that this might have something to do with Brightblade’s communication spell going silent.  If something had torn off his ear, the enchantment would have unbound from the ear clip.  Joyful Sound sat in the corner of the tent, quietly poised with a notepad and quill to take notes.  Next to her was a strange apparatus that Emberglow had never seen before. 

It almost looked like a transmitter of some sort, with a curved disk that surrounded a focusing crystal.  

“Emberglow!  You’re awake!  Great!” Bitterroot said cheerfully, and Delver grinned and raised a hoof in salute.  Brightblade simply nodded impatiently.

“Wonderful, she’s awake.  Now, if we could just…” the Knight Mystic began, but Bitterroot cut him off.

“Just a moment please,” she said.  “I’d like a second to make sure my patient is okay.”  The old veteran gave Emberglow a wink as Brightblade glowered.  “Wound healing okay?  Any aftereffects of the poison?”

“No ma’am, your spell work did the trick.  I feel great.  Thank you,” Emberglow said.  

“We done?” Brightblade interrupted.  “If it’s okay with you ladies, I’d like to get back to our meeting.  Emberglow, I’m glad you’re up,” he said, sounding nothing of the sort.  “Feel free to…”

He cut off when a loud explosion shook the ground.  Everypony paused except Emberglow, who jumped with a startled yelp.  They held their silence for a brief moment, and then when no other explosions followed they all glanced at Emberglow.  Bitterroot was smirking.

“What was that?” Emberglow asked, confused at the non-reaction of the other Knights in the tent.  Joyful Sound hadn’t even looked up from the notes she was glancing at.

“Another mortar attack,” Bitterroot said.

“Mortars?” Emberglow asked.

“There’s ponies out there in the forest firing at us,” Brightblade said.  “Hence the shield.  We’re safe for now, but we’re looking for a way to strike out at them and stop the attacks.  But for now, your presence isn’t required, Lady Emberglow.  Feel free to get some food and check in with your medics.”

Dismissed, Emberglow nodded and turned to leave the tent, nearly colliding with the scout sergeant as the pegasus rushed into the tent.

“Sir!  There’s a pony on the path watching the camp, right at the tree line!” the mare reported hurriedly, not even taking time to salute.

“Another one of ours?” Brightblade asked.  The pegasus sergeant shook her head.

“No sir.  A unicorn.  He’s wearing yellow armor.  And carrying a white cloth tied to a stick.”

Every pony in the tent perked up at that.  Brightblade walked over to address the scout.

“Did he say anything?” he asked urgently.  The scout nodded.

“He shouted.  He said he wanted to speak with somepony who’s in charge, and that if somepony comes to talk to him the mortar attacks will pause.”

“Thank you, marine.  You’re dismissed,” Brightblade said.  He glanced at Emberglow.  “You too, Emberglow and Joy.  We’ve got something to discuss.”  He motioned to Bitterroot and Delver.  Bitterroot shrugged, and Delver looked a little embarrassed.  Emberglow turned to follow after the scout.

“Where is he?” she asked the pegasus sergeant.  “I might as well get a look.”

“This way, Lady Emberglow,” the sergeant said.  She wasn’t the only pony who was curious.  There were a dozen marines in the trench, watching over the earthworks down the hill at the lone figure, standing just where the trees met the hill.  The marines saw Emberglow approach and made way at the barrier.  There was only one other Knight there watching, Lady Gem Redmane, never took her eyes off the heretic.  Emberglow squeezed up next to her.

“Hey,” the Adamant said softly, though she didn’t glance up.  “Glad you’re awake.”

“I heard about your brother,” Emberglow said.  “I’m so sorry.”  Gem simply grunted.

“That’s the bastard that killed my brother,” the Adamant said.  “I know, he may not have been the one to do it himself, but if he’s here, he’s the one that gave the order.  I’m gonna rip his horn off myself and cram it into his eye sockets.  One at a time.  Slowly.”  Her voice was calm and measured, but her eyes were full of tears.  Emberglow hurt for her compatriot, but the utter hatred in her voice was a bit unsettling.  “Why is he here?”

The unicorn in question looked as if he were standing casually in the middle of a normal city street, or a pastoral field, rather than a ruined path in one of the most dangerous areas in the entire Diarchy.  He glanced around uninterestedly, not staring at the camp above him.  In one hoof he held a long spear, with a white cloth tied just under the blade.  Just as the scout had said, he was wearing yellow armor with the cutie mark of Saint Fluttershy painted on the flank.  While most of his body was covered with armor, Emberglow could see his brown fur and slate grey mane poking through the armor.  He even wore a beard, a grey goatee that jutted from the bottom of his chin like a twirling tuft of smoke.

The marines were silent, watching the heretic from their vantage point with the Knights.  Each and every one had a weapon at the ready, mostly rifles.  Gem held a spear at the ready.  Emberglow felt oddly naked without a weapon.  Her hooves itched for action, to bridge the distance and take the fight to the heretic himself.  This was the creature that was responsible for so much mayhem and death.  A deep anger began to boil within her, and she glared at the heretic pony.

She wasn’t the only one to feel unsettled at the distant figure.  There was an urgent tenseness in his motions that all the nearby ponies seemed to share.  It was something Emberglow fully understood.  She’d fought unicorns and infidels before, but this was the first time she’d ever laid eyes on one of the infamous Knights Discordant.  It was disconcerting how little he seemed to care about them.

Nopony was willing to say much of anything while they sat and watched the unconcerned heretic Knight.  After a few minutes, Brightblade approached the trench.

“Make way, please,” the Mystic said.  The two Knight mares parted to make space for him at the earthen barrier.  Brightblade’s rune quill glowed brightly as he cast the loudspeaker spell.

“Heretic!  You wished to speak with the commander of this camp?  I am here!” he called out to the figure down below.  The heretic’s horn glowed with a golden yellow light.  Everypony at the barrier tensed nervously, but the spell he cast wasn’t an attack or a beam of deadly light.  It simply made his throat glow, much like Brightblade’s loudspeaker spell.

“Yup!  That’s great, I’m glad you could make it,” the heretic said, his voice magically amplified over the camp.  “I was hoping we could talk.”

“What do we have to talk about, creature?” Brightblade replied.  He kept his voice calm, but his tail was thrashing with agitation.  Somepony behind them cleared their throat gently.  Emberglow looked back, and Tumbleweed was there, holding out a spear for Emberglow.  She took it with a nod of gratitude.  

“So, straight to business?  No pleasantries?” the heretic tittered in an odd, singsong voice.  “Very well, if you want to play it that way.  I want to talk about peace.  A truce.  Non-aggression.  Voluntary cessation of hostilities, et cetera et cetera.”

“Why?” Brightblade asked simply, after a moment’s pause.

“Well, that’s what we have to chat about, hm?” the Knight Discordant replied.  “If you’re amenable, meet me right here in one hour, under this flag of truce.”  He upended his spear and drove it into the ground, nearly a foot deep.  “I give my oath on blessed Fluttershy’s name that no harm will come to you and yours while we hold our talk.  Bring as many as three ponies, we’ll do the same.  We promise to stop our mortars, but we will fire on any that try to sneak off into the ruins during the hour.  That includes pegasi.”

Emberglow could feel the tenseness in the Knight Mystic as he considered the heretic’s offer.  She might not like Brightblade, but she felt a great deal of pity for the decision he had to make now.  His face was firm as he stared down at the heretic, but he was practically trembling.

“I’ll think about it.  If I’m not there in an hour, assume we refused your generous offer,” Brightblade called back.  The heretic merely waved, before turning around casually and trotting back to disappear in the tree line.

“What’s his angle?” Delver asked from behind them.  He had approached while all of their attention was on the heretic, and Sir Brightblade.

“I don’t know.  He can’t seriously want a truce, can he?”  Brightblade mused.  “He wants something from us.”

“It could also be a ruse,” Delver said.  “A trick to peel off three or four of us and seriously weaken our forces?”  Brightblade opened his mouth to respond, then looked around at the crowd of marines that were gathered, listening to the conversation.

“You are all dismissed.  Go back to your duties, to your watches.  I’ll let everypony know what’s going on as soon as I’ve had a little chat with Delver and Bitterroot.”  He motioned for Delver to follow him, and returned to the command tent, where Emberglow assumed Bitterroot was still waiting.  The two stallions closed the tent flap behind them.  Emberglow almost expected the camp to erupt in gossipy whispers and murmurs at the news, but it was a testament to the military discipline of the crowd that ponies simply returned to what they were doing, with only a few speculative glances back at the command tent.  

Lacking any sort of official orders herself, Emberglow decided to briefly tour the camp, trying to look at each of the ponies and gauge the general mood of the soldiers and Knights.  On the way past, she glanced at the ‘mess tent’, really a simple cooking fire tended by one of the marines of Fire Team Corona.  Gadget and Gearsmith were sitting with a few other marines, eating near the cooking fire.  The blue-furred mare waved at Emberglow, invitation clear in her eyes, but Emberglow shook her head with a smile.  That wasn’t something she wanted to deal with quite yet.  Gadget smiled back, and Emberglow continued her tour of the camp.

It wasn’t fifteen minutes before Brightblade’s magically empowered shout came from the command tent.

“Emberglow, Gem, Joy, please report to the command tent,” he called out.  Inside the three senior Knights were gathered, looking upset.  Bitterroot in particular appeared particularly annoyed.

“We’ve decided to go to this heretic’s little meeting,” Brightblade said, and Bitterroot snorted.  “It may be a trap.  But the opportunity is too good to pass up.  If we’re smart about this, we have a great deal to gain from this little meeting.  I’d like the chance to see our enemy close up.  We may even learn a bit about what they’re up to here.  Maybe even figure out how they knew when we’d be dropping in.”

“Yes, but…” Bitterroot tried to interject, but Brightblade held up a hoof.

“I’ll be going, of course.  It wouldn’t be appropriate to send another into such danger if I’m not willing to go myself,” he said.  Emberglow saw Bitterroot roll her eyes.  “Delver will be accompanying us as well, and Emberglow.”

Emberglow couldn’t help but stare in shock, while both Delver and Bitterroot let their disapproval show on their faces.  It didn’t make much sense.  Why her?  Why not Bitterroot?

“I’m going to need both of you to stay silent, listen, and observe,” Brightblade said, ignoring the scowls and surprised looks from the other Knights.  “Delver, your experience in combat and your knowledge of tactics will come in handy.  We’ll go fully armed and armored, and cast shield spells before we go. These are my orders.  Be ready to go in a half hour.  The rest of you, assemble the marines and be ready for anything.  Joy, I’ll need you to keep up with the motic seismograph.  The sooner we’re able to more accurately pinpoint the location of our anomaly, the sooner we’ll be able to make a plan to check it out.”

With that, he walked out of the command tent, brushing past the Knights who were staring at him with a range of stunned or angry expressions.  Bitterroot made eye contact with Emberglow, jerking her head to the side to indicate a request for a private conversation.  As the ponies exited the tent, Emberglow and Bitterroot trotted off to one side, alone.

“What’s going on?” Emberglow said in hushed tones to the older Radiant, her ears pulled back as she leaned in for secrecy.  “Why me?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Bitterroot said, her voice also low.  “You musta really done something to piss him off, cuz our Brightblade is seriously angry at you.  And not just because you stood up to him back at the outpost.”

“Is that why you seemed annoyed before the meeting started?” she asked.

Bitterroot scoffed.  “Yes.  I don’t get it.  It should be me at the meeting, not you.”

“I think… he thinks I’m some sort of spy.  Like this is all my fault, somehow.  Being attacked in midair, the first ship being attacked, all of it.  I think he wants to keep an eye on me.”

“What?  That makes no sense!  Why?” Bitterroot nearly cried out in shock.  Emberglow looked around nervously, shushing the other Knight.  With whispered tones she told the veteran the whole story, about her mission to Port Luminescence, Bubblegum’s treason and sin, her brief interrogation and even the deal Delver had made to get the marines out of investigation.  Bitterroot listened politely, waiting to comment until the end.  

“Saints-damned Mystic paranoia.  You think he wants you at this meeting just to keep an eye on ya?” Bitterroot asked rhetorically.  She didn’t wait for Emberglow to answer.  “Don’t you worry though, this’ll all pass before too long.  He’ll eventually figure out that he’s wasting his time and effort worrying about you.  In the meantime though, you gonna be okay going to meet with the big bad heretic and his evil buddies?”

“I’ll be fine, I think,” Emberglow said.

“Yeah you will,” Bitterroot said.  “Lady Rarity will watch out for you.”

“Thanks, Bitterroot,” Emberglow said.

When it was time for the meeting, Emberglow, Brightblade, and Delver stood at the edge of the camp, just in the trench behind the earthworks.  The heretic already stood behind the spear he had thrust into the ground, joined by only a single companion.  It was a griffon in polished silver armor, complete with fearsome looking claw guards and a full helmet that covered his avian face.  

“Only two?” Brightblade hissed.  “He said to bring three.  Why put himself at a disadvantage?”

“It’s a power move,” Delver whispered back.  “He’s basically announcing how little he’s intimidated by us.”  Brightblade grunted, then huffed with annoyance.

“We’re wasting time.  Let’s go.”

All three Knights were fully armored, with spears in sheathes on their armor.  Brightblade had ensured that all three of them had full spell batteries in their gauntlets, and they had cast shield spells before leaving the relative safety of their camp.  The three of them stepped out together, with Brightblade in the lead and Delver and Emberglow following. 

For a moment, Emberglow glanced at the sky, expecting it to rain fire and chaos on them at any second.  Nothing came, and she was a little surprised that the heretic had kept his word.

“Project confidence and fearlessness,” Brightblade said to them, sotto voce.  “Give them nothing.  Say nothing.  I will speak for all of us.”

“Yes sir,” Delver said.  Emberglow just nodded.

The three ponies took their time trotting down the hill until they reached the spear.  The heretic and the griffon stood side by side.  The griffon was still as a statue, barely moving except for his eyes, which remained locked on the three approaching.  The heretic was less still, gently stroking at his wispy goatee with one hoof and a mysterious smirk on his face.  There was another oddity to his appearance; his eyes were different colors.  One was bright yellow, while the other was a deep, angry red.  Emberglow wondered what it meant; heterochromia wasn’t genetic in ponies, it only ever came about because of accident or injury.  It wasn’t something she had much time to be curious about, however.  Brightblade opened his mouth to speak, but the heretic preempted him.

“I’m so glad you decided to show up.  Nice to meetchya!”  He held out a hoof to shake.  Brightblade stared at him.  The heretic held his hoof out awkwardly for a few seconds, before shrugging and placing it back in the dirt.  “Okay then.  So here’s the deal.  You all have to go.”

“We have to go?” Brightblade repeated dangerously.  The heretic tittered, his voice oddly musical.

“Yeah.  You all have to go.  As soon as possible.  You see, this here”—he waved a hoof around, taking in the earth, the hill and the ruins—“this is holy ground.  Our holy ground.  You can’t be here.”  His voice had dropped, lowering as his demeanor smoothed out, losing the amused grin and the cheerful lilt to his voice.  “You don’t belong.  We don’t want any bloodshed.  We regret the loss of every single pony life.  But Manehatten belongs to Equestria, and we won’t suffer your intrusion on ground hallowed by the blood of martyrs.”

“Equestria?  There is no such thing,” Brightblade said, his voice thick with contempt.  “It ceased to exist when the heretic Sunset Shimmer was brought to justice.”  Emberglow was a little surprised at Brightblade.  Few ponies were actually well read enough to know the name of the secessionist nation founded by the second great heretic.  Brightblade had never seemed like much of a history buff to her, even though he was a Mystic.

“If you say so,” the heretic said with a shrug, not taking Brightblade’s bait.  “We feel differently.  We don’t want to kill you, but we’re ready to enforce our claim with violence if we need to.  However, if you agree to leave, we’ll clear the path for you.  No more mortars, no more attacks.”

“A bit late for your offer for the ponies who died in the air, isn’t it?” Brightblade asked.  The heretic looked grim.  

“This isn’t the first time you were warned, Mystic,” the heretic said.  “We sent messages to your superiors.  We took out one of your airships.  You’re awfully persistent, you know?  But I’d really, really like to avoid any more deaths.”

“Why?  Why do you care?” Brightblade asked.

“We fight against institutions and ideas, not against ponies,” the heretic said.  It sounded rehearsed.

“And what if we don’t go?”

“Then we bring fire and pain.  We will rain down death and justice on the interlopers, and may Celestia and Luna have mercy on your souls,” the heretic said.  Brightblade snorted out a laugh.

“That’s supposed to intimidate me?” he said.  “Let’s not play any more games, hm?  If the Knights Discordant had the ability to enforce their claim on Manehatten, they would have decades ago.  This would be a working city, not a rubble pile infested with life’s rejects.  You wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t detect the same thing we did.”

“Oh?” the heretic asked, grinning triumphantly.  “And what did we detect?”

Brightblade scowled at the unicorn stallion but said nothing.  Clearly the heretic thought he had won some sort of victory from the smirk that was glued to his muzzle.  

“Not going to talk?  Okay, let me fill in the blanks, then.  I’ll tell you what you detected.  From New Canterlot City, your fellow purple smarts detected a motic surge somewhere in Manehatten.  It contained an energy signature unlike any you’ve ever seen before.  But given the ambient motic radiation from the war in Manehatten, your fellows were unable to pinpoint a specific location, nor learn anything more about the nature of the surge.  So you decided to come into our city, equipped with better detection equipment, to try and assess this new threat or weapon or whatever it is.  Did I miss anything?”

“Do you have a point?” Brightblade asked.  The heretic laughed.

“Not really, no.  Only that you’re risking your life, and the lives of all your ponies, over something you know nothing about.  Is it worth it?  Turn around, little Knight.  Make the right choice, and you save the lives of everypony you brought into this nightmare place.”

“So there is something worth finding here?” Brightblade said with a grim smile.  “Good to know.  Tell me, how did you know when we would be dropping into Manehatten?”  He glanced at Emberglow when he asked the question.

“That one’s not hard.  We were already here, and we knew you were coming.”  The heretic hesitated for a moment, before his voice grew somber.  “You may not believe it, but we mourn for all loss of life.  We wish it didn’t have to come to violence.”

“Spare me your lies.  We won’t be leaving, heretic, but this chat was useful,” Brightblade said.  The heretic sighed.

“For me as well, I suppose.  Scurry back to your shell, little turtles.  You’ll be safe until you reach your shield.  Please know that I regret what I’m forced to do here.  The mortars will resume shortly.”

With a snort of contempt, Brightblade turned and walked slowly and confidently back up the hill.  Delver wasn’t nearly as nonchalant; his was a tactical retreat, never turning a flank or a rump towards the two heretics.  Emberglow followed his lead, hoping that she didn’t appear as nervous as she felt.  For their part, the heretics held their ground, the griffon still a solid stone, while the unicorn waved cheerfully at the retreating trio.

All of the remaining Knights were waiting for them at the top of the hill.  Brightblade silently motioned with his hoof, and everypony followed him to the command tent.  The last one in was Silverfeather, who closed the tent flap behind her.

“Delver, what do you make of that meeting?” Brightblade asked.  Delver pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment.

“Hard to say, sir.  I don’t think he was lying about not wanting a fight.  Also that power move of his might have been a bit of posturing.  I’d be surprised if we didn’t outnumber them.  It could be he was trying to scare us out of a fight because he knows he doesn’t have the numbers we do.”

“Time isn’t on our side, but numbers might be.  Not much there beyond speculation,” Brightblade grumbled.  “Emberglow, you saw his eyes, right?  What does that mean?”

“Honestly, sir?  I have no idea,” Emberglow said.  “Heterochromia doesn’t occur naturally in ponies.  It’s genetic in dogs, cats, and some other animals, but not us.  It only happens as a result of injury or disease, or even some form of mutation.  Perhaps he’s been blinded in one eye, though he didn’t act like it.”

“Not very helpful,” Brightblade muttered.  “Oh well.  Moving on.  Do you have a location for us, Joyful Sound?” he asked, turning to the Knight in question.  The quiet Mystic smiled slightly and nodded.

“Not exact, but I’ve got a general idea, sir,” she said.  She laid a map of the area on the table.  The hill was marked with a red circle, and there were five blue dots marked in an area extending to the west of the camp.  “The good news is, it’s close.  I know the readings are coming from the west, within a mile or two.  The bad news is, I’m fairly certain they’re coming from underground.”

“Underground?” Brightblade asked.

“Yes, sir.  That makes things difficult.  The Manehatten Caves are a labyrinth of overlapping ruins of the old underground train system and mutant animal warrens.  There’s no sense or logic to them, so I have no idea where we’ll need to enter in order to find our target.  The blue dots are where I believe there are entrances into the Caves.”

“We need to get inside one of those caves, and see if we can find a way to our target.  We don’t have much time. We’re going to be rationing food soon, and I don’t feel safe foraging in this forsaken place.  Our best chance is to find what we’re looking for before we’re forced to retreat.  Delver, are the marines ready for action?”

“Yes, Brightblade.  They’ve been ready since our meeting with the heretics.”

“Good.  How many do you think we’ll need to leave behind to keep the camp safe?”

“One fire team, and maybe a Knight or two,” Delver recommended.  Brightblade nodded.

“Fire Team Corona will stay here and lay down covering fire for our exit.  Gem, you’ll stay here to command the marines.”

“But, sir!” Gem protested.  Brightblade waved a hoof.

“I know, Gem.  Trust me, I get it.  I need to leave an Adamant behind to oversee the camp. It can’t be Delver, and I suspect I’ll need both of our pegasus Knights with us, so it can’t be Silverfeather either.  I’m sorry.”  For once it seemed like Brightblade had managed some empathy, but even in this show of concern, he remained implacable.  With effort, Gem managed to stow her protest and nod glumly.  “Thank you.  I’ll be leaving Joyful Sound as well.  Keep trying to get a clearer reading on the location.  Do you have a portable motic seismograph I can bring along?”

“I do, but it’s only accurate within a quarter mile.  And ‘portable’ may be a slight exaggeration,” Joyful Sound said.  Brightblade shrugged.

“I’ll have one of the marines carry it.  Silverfeather, Emberglow, Bitterroot, Delver and I will be making a foray into the ruins, heading for…” he glanced at the map, pointing at the closest of the blue dots.  “Right there.”

“This is insane.  You know that, right?” Bitterroot cut in suddenly.  Everypony stared at her.  “You’re committing most of our forces to a foray into unknown territory, with an unknown number of enemies out there.  It’s crazy.”

“What do you suggest, Bitterroot?” Brightblade said, far too calmly.  “We’re low on supplies.  Any scouts we send out are immediately fired on.  We have no effective way of scouting these locations.  Our shield is a ticking clock; the more explosives they drop on us, the more batteries it will take to power the barrier.  Eventually we’ll run out, and be vulnerable.  So do you have another suggestion?”

“Bitterroot, I think he’s right,” Delver said softly.  “The situation is desperate, and we have little choice.  But our opponent may have revealed some things during our meeting.”

“Oh?” Both Bitterroot and Brightblade looked curious.

“Just speculation, really.  But I think our enemy may have tipped his hand a bit in his gloating.  First of all, by asking us to leave before we could find what we’re looking for, he’s confirming that it’s important.  Second, I think that by asking for a meeting, and suing for peace like he did, he’s admitting that he doesn’t have the pony power for a long term siege.  He wants this over as quickly as we do.  Either he’s low on troops, or he’s low on supplies as well.  A foray into the ruins, a show of force, may be our best chance of assessing what kind of firepower he’s brought to Manehatten.”

“Thank you, Delver,” Brightblade said, sounding both surprised and genuinely grateful.   “That was my thought as well.”  Everypony nodded, and even Bitterroot seemed to be mollified.  Brightblade’s expression became grim again.  “Silverfeather, you’re in command of the marines.”  Both Silverfeather and Gem Redmane flinched.  It had been Tad’s role to command the marines, and liaison between the Knights and the common soldiers.  “Gem, I expect to begin volleys of covering fire into the foliage beginning in twenty minutes.  Let’s see what we can flush out before we have to charge into the unknown.”

With that, Brightblade dismissed the meeting.  The ponies had their duties.  Emberglow went to check on the two remaining medics; after Cliffjumper’s death the scout team was left without a medic, and Tumbleweed would be staying behind with the rest of Fire Team Corona.  That meant only Sea Spray and Emberglow would be overseeing the medic duties for the soldiers, though she was sure Bitterroot would help with those duties when she could. 

Gadget and Gearsmith were assembling with the other marines of Fire Team Epsilon, and Emberglow realized with a touch of guilt that she hadn’t really seen or spoken with them since she had awoken.  When their eyes met, Gadget gave her a smile and a wave, and even Gearsmith managed to look happy to see her.

While Emberglow was checking her supplies and checking in with her medics, the mortar bombardment began again.  This time Emberglow wasn’t in a tent when the explosion struck the top of the barrier.  With a flash of magenta light, the entire barrier became visible, each hexagonal section brightening up as a smoky explosion struck the top.  Everypony flinched, instinctively ducking down as the smoke drifted into the camp, then glanced around sheepishly before continuing about their business.  It turned out to be the first strike of many, however.  Every few minutes afterwards there was another explosion, another flash of magenta light, another collective flinch from the soldiers below.  

“Will they ever run out of ammo?” Bitterroot asked Emberglow rhetorically, when the ponies that were leaving on the foray were gathered together, ready to charge into the unknown.  Her voice was like her name, clearly upset about something.  Emberglow shrugged.

“If their focus is on bombarding the camp, then we’ll be safer out there, right?” Emberglow asked.  Bitterroot sighed.  

“Probably.  I don’t know.”

“Is everything okay?” Emberglow asked, lifting a hoof to rest companionably on the older mare’s shoulder.  Bitterroot smiled wanly.

“Yeah.  Maybe.  I’m just getting a bad feeling about this little venture.  I know Delver’s right, but still.  We know absolutely nothing about the heretics’ numbers or forces, and it makes me nervous.  We’re going in blind.  I know we don’t have a lot of choice, but that doesn’t mean I have to feel good about it.”  Bitterroot huffed, shaking off Emberglow’s hoof in the process.  “Bah.  Just ignore me, Emberglow.  Just an old jumpy soldier’s concerns, nothing more.”

“I’d never dismiss a veteran’s concerns,” Emberglow said, smiling gently at the older mare.  Bitterroot snorted with amusement.

“You callin’ me old, youngster?” the older mare said, deliberately making her voice shaky and cranky in a comical imitation of an even older pony.  “Well I’ll have you know back in my day rookies showed a lot more respect for their elders.”  She looked like she could have gone on, but Emberglow was already giggling.  Bitterroot grinned.  “Thanks for listening to my worries.”

Soon enough, Brightblade gave the order for the marines who would be staying behind to begin sweeping the tree line with suppressive fire.  A sharp staccato of bullet fire erupted along the trench, peppering the tree line with lead.  There was nopony to be seen, and Emberglow wondered if their barrage was even accomplishing anything.

“Keep low to the ground.  No flying.  Knights, cast your shields and stay in front, our spells will keep the others safer from bullets,” Brightblade said, pausing long enough as the five Knights cast their spells.  “Let’s go.  Follow me!” The Knight Mystic reared up on his hind legs, bringing his forehooves down with a dramatic stomp before charging up and over the earthworks and down the hill.  It took only seconds for the five Knights, leading nearly twenty assorted marines and scouts, to reach the bottom of the hill and the tree line.  

The heretics hiding in the trees, however, were not fooled by the covering fire nor the swiftness of the charge.  Over the sounds of the friendly fire they were galloping away from, they began to hear closer, hostile fire from the trees.  Emberglow felt the impact of one of the bullets against her magical shield, right near her cheek; it would have taken out her jaw and most of the right side of her face, if she hadn’t been magically protected.  As more shots rang out, there was a cry of pain behind her, then another.  At least a few bullets had made it through.  She didn’t recognize the pained voices, which meant it probably wasn’t one of her close friends.  She immediately felt guilty for the thought.

Once they were in the relative safety of the trees, Brightblade slowed to a trot.  Emberglow took a moment to look over the marines.  Indeed, two of the ponies had been shot.  A pegasus scout was limping, bleeding from one of his hind legs.  Emberglow’s heart leapt to her throat when she saw the other wounded pony.

Sergeant Arrow’s uniform and chest fur were matted with blood.  She was panting with exertion, her eyes glazed over with pain.  When all of the other ponies slowed down inside the tree line, she slumped to the forest floor limply.  Emberglow rushed over, ignoring Brightblade’s impatient whinny.  She was gratified that Bitterroot was right by her side.  A quick glance showed that Sea Star was already bandaging the wounded scout.

The wound was deep, and Emberglow couldn’t see an exit.  From the entrance point, the bullet was lodged somewhere within the sergeant’s chest, perhaps in a lung.  She cast a quick diagnosis spell and nearly sobbed at the results.

“The bullet’s in her heart,” Emberglow said, and Bitterroot swore.  There was no way to heal the sergeant with magic, in the middle of a forest, with no surgery equipment and no time.  “Sergeant Arrow, can you hear me?”  The sergeant was breathing hard, gasping and panting with a dazed, agonized look on her face.

“It…hurts,” the sergeant rasped, and Emberglow gently cradled the dying marine in her hooves.

“I know, sergeant.  I’ll make the pain go away, okay?  I’m going to make it all better.” Emberglow could feel her eyes growing wet.  She cast a single spell, just enough to make the sergeant fall into a deep sleep.  The earth pony mare stopped breathing only a few seconds after, her eyes glassy and empty.  Emberglow closed them softly with one hoof.  

“We don’t have time to delay,” Brightblade said, trotting over.  The other marines of Fire Team Epsilon were trying to look stoic, but several of them were struggling.  Gadget kept her distance, but was openly crying silently.

“We can’t just leave her,” Emberglow said.

“We’ll bring her back to camp on the way back,” Brightblade said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.  “Saints remember you, marine.  Your courage did you credit.”

It should have made her feel better that the usually antagonistic Knight Mystic would spare some words to honor Sergeant Arrow, but instead Emberglow just felt irrationally angry.  Hadn’t this very same Mystic implied that all of the marines from Arrow’s fire team were just as responsible for the mess in Port Luminescence as Bubblegum was?  And now he pretended to honor her, all while also acting like he was impatient to leave the sergeant behind and get on with their task.  With a deep breath, she nodded, trying to get a handle on her anger as she slipped the still body to the forest floor.

“I’ll come back for you, sergeant,” Emberglow promised.  Part of her wanted to swear vengeance as well, but that didn’t feel natural or appropriate.  Most of the marines, even those scouts who hadn’t been in Sergeant Arrow’s team, stopped and saluted the still form as they passed.  But Emberglow couldn’t tear herself away.  Even with her promise to return to the body, she still felt glued to the spot.

“Emberglow,” Bitterroot said gently, laying a hoof on Emberglow’s shoulders.  “Emberglow, we have to go.”

“How can we just leave her here?” Emberglow whimpered.

“She’ll be fine,” Bitterroot said soothingly, gently pulling on the younger mare to get her moving.  “She’s past feeling any pain now.  The Saints are already preparing her for rebirth, this is just a shell.  We need to go.”  Emberglow finally looked up from the body, meeting the older mare’s eyes.  Bitterroot wasn’t crying but there was sadness there.  Emberglow’s own vision was misty.  Gadget had hung back as well, her wet eyes concerned and compassionate.

“Okay,” Emberglow said, and began trotting.  There were still bullets zipping around, after all, even though the dense foliage was effective protection.  The marines and Knights packed in close, staying within sight and shouting range.  It would be quite easy to get lost in this overgrown mess.

Suddenly the gunfire cut off, leaving the forest dramatically silent.  Brightblade, out in front of the group, harshly motioned with his hooves for each pony to get low.  They crept forward, cautious and afraid, moving a snail’s pace towards the entrance to the Manehatten Caves from Brightblade’s map.  Suddenly, the forest up ahead thinned to nearly nothing.  A cracked, pitted asphalt road bisected the forest, with tufts of tall grass growing up in between the cracks.  The street was completely silent.  There were no sounds of bird or insect life.  Emberglow thought they’d probably all been frightened into hiding by the explosions and gunfire.  It was probably a good thing; whatever wildlife haunted these ruins could stay as far away as possible, if Emberglow could have her way.  She thought about the frog monstrosity that had nearly eaten her and shuddered.

“Ambush spot?” Brightblade asked softly to Delver.  Delver nodded.  Across the wide street were the broken shells of several buildings.  On the ground at the edge of this tree line, just in front of Emberglow, was a metal sign propped up on a pile of stones, marred with dirt and moss.  Absently, Emberglow brushed the debris from the sign.  It was a green street sign, with a bold font declaring ‘5th Avenue’.  

Emberglow’s mind wandered a bit as she wondered at the kinds of ponies that would have looked at this sign when this city was alive.  They probably hadn’t even bothered to look; they probably knew the roads like she knew her own back home.  Maybe everypony that had walked past this sign had ignored it, never even realizing it was there.  And now here it was, somehow still intact after a thousand years of war, neglect, and decay.

“Could be,” Delver whispered back.  He pointed a hoof at a few of the broken brick walls across the street from them.  “I’d hide rifle ponies behind there and there,” he motioned to two spots.  “Do you see our cave entrance?”

“See the sign over there?” Brightblade pointed.  The sign in question was partially melted, though still attached to a scorched section of brick.  Emberglow could make out three letters, ‘UBW’.  “That probably said ‘subway’.  That’s what these ponies called their underground train system.  I’ll bet it’s very close.  We’ll need to cross the road to search for it.”

“Meanwhile, crossing that open stretch leaves the marines completely open to rifle fire,” Delver said, and Brightblade nodded.

“It will have to just be us,” the Knight Mystic concluded.  “Have the marines hunker down here, and provide us with covering fire if they can.  Those of us with magical shields will scout out the other side of the road.”

“Yes, sir,” Delver said.  “You heard the plan, marines,” he called back to the assembled ponies.  “Gearsmith, you’re the senior marine in your fire team.  I’m giving you a field promotion to sergeant.  You and Scout Sergeant Leaf Turn are in charge over here.”  He motioned to the green pegasus mare who was sergeant of the scouts.  “Stay low, and stay in the trees.”

“Yes, sir,” the two responded.

“Once we’re out, we’ll head straight for that sign.  If that doesn’t draw out any fire, we’ll fan out and begin looking through the ruins for our cave entrance.  Delver and Emberglow, head south along the road.  Silverfeather, myself, and Bitterroot will head north.  Don’t get out of earshot.”

On Brightblade’s orders, the five Knights drew out their weapons and marched into the open ground of the shattered street.  Each step was agony; Emberglow was sure a wave of lead was going to pour down on them the second they reached the open, unprotected expanse.  But nothing came.  After a moment’s hesitation, the Knight Mystic ordered them all forward.  Step after cautious step, the five of them made it to the other side of the road and split away, just as Brightblade had ordered.  Delver turned confidently to the south, with Emberglow following behind, her spear clenched tightly in one hoof, ready to attack as soon as an enemy showed its face.

The wreckage of the buildings around them was everywhere.  Masonry, debris, and metal bits such as struts and girders scattered about haphazardly.  The ground, where it could be seen between bits of building, was muddy.  Delver and Emberglow picked their way through the ruins, looking for any hint of a cave entrance.  They were mostly silent, sharing only a muttered word of direction, or a warning about a loose brick or hidden tripping hazard.

When the attack came, there was no hint or warning at all.  In one moment they were stepping cautiously through the ruins, and in the next, a metallic figure cannonballed into Delver, knocking him aside and slamming into an upright brick wall with a thud and a crack.  Emberglow saw Delver roll gracefully under his assailant, coming up with his hooves underneath him rather than on his side or upside down.

The attacker had no weapon.  It took Emberglow a moment to identify the griffon from their meeting with the heretic earlier.  The creature flared his wings wide, rearing up so that he could slash at Delver with his sharp claws and peck with his beak.  He was fast, hitting at Delver more often than he was missing.  Even though most of the strikes scraped off of Delver’s blue armor and helmet, his claws had found flesh enough times that Emberglow could see blood.  She set herself to charge at the griffon when she saw a glint of glowing light from the corner of her eye.  She only had a quarter second to dodge, ducking just as a light blue beam of magical force shot at her from behind one of the larger wall sections, firing straight for her neck.  She managed to dodge most of the beam, though it still struck her armor just on the top of her criniere.

Though Emberglow had ducked under most of the beam, the impact of the magic against her enchanted armor still shoved her like she’d been tackled.  She was knocked sideways, tumbling into the rough stone and metal debris.  Sharp corners and edges scraped against her armor, and Emberglow staggered to her feet as quickly as possible, trying to take stock of this new attacker.

Facing Emberglow was a unicorn mare, wearing no armor but a loose grey robe with bits of green and brown foliage sewn into it.  It was clever camouflage.  The mare was a pale, pastel pink color, with a white mane cut short and held back with a headband that rested just under her horn.  The accursed appendage was glowing with a glistening white aura as she advanced slowly and nervously.  Her purple eyes were locked on Emberglow with a terrified sort of look, and she could swear the young heretic was trembling.  Emberglow steadied herself, prepared to dodge another beam, but it never came.  Instead, a pile of rocks floated into the air, surrounded in a white glow.  Her eyes widened just as they shot towards her.

Emberglow yelped in pain when the first rock struck her just above her eye.  The second bounced off her flank, leaving a mark on her flanchard.  Soon she was being pelted by dozens of rocks, most ricocheting harmlessly off her armor, but some few finding their way between cracks.  Emberglow gritted her teeth and began to advance on the mare, but progress was glacial.  She stumbled and flinched as the mare backed away slowly, further away from the other two combatants.

Emberglow had been dodging and blocking missiles for a few seconds when she finally glanced back and saw how far away she’d grown from Delver and the griffon.  She glanced back at the unicorn, who was preparing another barrage of stinging stones, and decided not to keep playing her game.  She tried to duck behind a wall to gain a moment to think and breathe, but apparently levitation magic didn’t take much finesse or line of sight.  Even out of sight, the heretic still bombarded her with projectiles.  If Emberglow was going to win this, she realized, she’d need to use her wings.  

Flaring her feathery limbs out of her sides and ignoring the sharp sting of impacts against them, she leaped into the air, gaining altitude as quickly as she could pump her wings.  She felt the rocks, some whizzing past her and some impacting on her hooves and flanks as she rushed through the skies, out and over the broken street.  She heard the hooves of the unicorn pounding against the street, chasing after her, just as the marines hiding in the tree line opened fire.  With a yelp of terror, the mare retreated back into the cover of the ruins across from the tree line.

Emberglow could tell, however, that something was wrong.  Sounds of gunfire came from the trees, as well as shouts of pain and the impact of weapons.  The marines were being attacked from the other side.  She glanced back at the ruins, where Delver was still fighting against the griffon.  The creature was doing his best to stay within Delver’s reach, making it difficult for him to take full advantage of his weapon.  Meanwhile, the griffon was making good use of his own claws and their much shorter, more dexterous reach.  Delver might have been stronger than the griffon, but the silver armored creature was certainly faster than Delver.  Delver could barely even use the haft of his spear to parry the incoming claw slashes.  Emberglow, hovering just above the cracked road, swooped down in a diagonal dive towards the pair.  This time, she was ready when the unicorn struck out with her magic.

Just as she saw the glimmer of the oncoming beam from the corner of her eye, Emberglow furled her wings, turning her graceful dive into a steep drop.  The beam missed her, and Emberglow flared out her wings just before she impacted with the ground, coming to a rest right behind the griffon.  

“Dad, behind you!” the heretic screamed, just as Emberglow was preparing to lunge with her spear.  Her weapon, headed straight for the creature’s leonine hindquarters, sliced through empty air instead as the armored griffon took to the air himself.  A quick hop and spin, aided by a single flap of her wings, brought Emberglow to where she was standing side by side with the Knight Adamant.

“You okay?” she asked him.  He was breathing hard, but nodded.

“Yeah.  He’s good,” Delver said.  “You?”

“Bruised.  Still standing, by the Saint’s grace.  The marines are being attacked.”

“Any news from the other three?”

“I couldn’t see them when I went airborne,” Emberglow admitted.  They didn’t have much more time to speak; the griffon was advancing slowly, his claws at the ready.  The unicorn hung back, her horn lowered as if she were about to charge.  It still glowed.

“Regroup with the marines,” Delver said.  “I saw the unicorn wouldn’t follow you into the street.”  The two of them backed away slowly until they were in the middle of the broken street.  Their two attackers were reluctant to follow.  “Can you fly north and get in touch with Brightblade?  I’ll try to keep the griffon from following.”

“On it!” Emberglow said, coiling her legs to spring into the air.  Brightblade, Silverfeather, and Bitterroot couldn’t have gotten far, but  Emberglow couldn’t make out any noise from her companions to the north.  She stayed in the middle of the broken street, noting that the two heretics had been reluctant to brave that open space before.  Though she was in a hurry, she spared a quick glance behind her.

The two heretics had apparently switched targets.  She saw Delver locked in combat with the unicorn, dodging levitated missiles just like she had before while he tried to close with his spear.  Meanwhile, the silver armored griffon was right on her tail, closing fast with his claws leading and a grim expression on his face.  He was closing fast, and it took effort for Emberglow not to yelp in terror.  This griffon would not hesitate to kill her.  A few glances towards the tree line told her that she would probably not be getting any aid from that quarter; she couldn’t see any of the marines, but the sounds of the battle were intensifying.  She flew along the street, traveling nearly a hundred yards before sloping upwards at a sharp angle, trying to spot the other Knights.

She had only a second to look.  The griffon’s first attack nipped at her hind legs, scratching against her armor and throwing her off balance.  This time she did let out a yelp, spinning clumsily in the air to try and bring her spear to bear against the enemy.  He swept to his right, barely dodging her strike, continuing on in a circle around her to try and stay behind her.  She might not have been the strongest flier, but her magically enhanced speed and strength wasn’t for nothing.  She was at least able to keep the more agile flyer from completely outmaneuvering her.   

Emberglow made no more moves to stab at the griffon, but merely tried to keep the point of her spear between her and the creature.  She moved the weapon around in a jerking, bouncing motion, keeping the griffon’s eyes on the point and off of what the rest of her was doing.  It was something they had learned in the Ivy Seminary.  If she kept the spear tip moving unpredictably, it would be much harder for the griffon to close the distance between them and take advantage of his much more agile claws.  

It was just enough to keep him at bay while she tried to see how her allies were faring. Finally she caught a flash of white fur among the ruins beneath her.  A split second glance showed her that the three were in trouble; Brightblade was fighting off the yellow armored heretic Knight from the earlier meeting, while Silverfeather was slumped limply over Bitterroot’s back.  Emberglow folded her wings and dropped into a dive towards the commander and his combatant.

“Sir, incoming!” she heard the griffon shout from behind her.  His voice was a deep, rumbly bass, and he projected it with all the skill and practice of a drill sergeant’s parade voice.  The heretic Knight looked up with plenty of time to react to Emberglow’s dive.  Brightblade tried his best to take advantage of the unicorn’s distraction.  Lunging sharply with his spear, the Knight Mystic encountered nothing but thin air as the unicorn’s horn lit and Emberglow heard a pop of displaced air.  The unicorn disappeared entirely and reappeared nearly twenty yards away, with a slightly dizzy and dazed look in his mismatched eyes.  The griffon pursuing Emberglow changed course to land in front of the unicorn while he got his bearings.

“Sir, the marines are under attack!” Emberglow cried out to Brightblade, who was cursing as he set his legs to charge the unicorn.  Her yell made him hesitate and look up at her, before giving Emberglow a nod of confirmation.

“To the trees!” he ordered.  Emberglow dropped to the ground next to the three ponies, giving Bitterroot an inquisitive glance.

“Injured wing, possible concussion,” Bitterroot said sharply.  Emberglow nodded, beginning a rune casting as the three of them ran, with Silverfeather still slumped on the older healer’s back, towards the tree line and the battle there.  She finished her spell on the move right as she saw the unicorn heretic cast his own spell, his horn glowing yellow as he fired a line of bright sparks straight up into the air above them.  With a triumphant smirk, he looped his forehooves around the griffon as his horn lit again, and for a second time there was a sharp pop of teleportation.  The two heretics disappeared, and Emberglow was left with the mental image of the heretic’s smirk right underneath his mismatched yellow and red eyes.

“What was…” Brightblade began, then looked up, his ears pinned and his eyes wide with horror.  “Shields!”  Emberglow didn’t have any time to realize what was happening before the explosion threw her to the ground.
> Chapter 19
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 19


Letter, sent from Knight Lieutenant Turquoise to Knight Private Emberglow.  Contents passed censor, deemed non-threatening.

	Emberglow,

	You’ll never believe it!  My project already got approved!  By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be on a boat to the Crystal Empire.

	The process was a bit complicated, and much of it is still classified, but basically, before we ever even left for Port Luminescence, other Jubilants were corresponding with ‘crystal ponies’ in the Northern Empire.  Just before we returned, we received a missive that approved a mission to the Empire.

	When I heard, I was both ecstatic and horrified.  Ecstatic because, well, we finally made a breakthrough with the Empire.  Horrified because I was sure the issues in Port Luminescence would get me blacklisted from the mission.  But, as I’m sure you’re aware, rational heads prevailed, and the whole mess has been put behind us (I thank Steadfast Word.  He’s been a valuable friend and ally.  Thanks for introducing us!).  My own order was able to choose which ponies to send, especially since the missive from the Empire asked that we send only Knights from the Jubilant or Radiant (Mystics were deliberately forbidden.  I have no idea why).

	So I would have been happy with anypony being sent, because it would mean the Empire is now open to the word of the Saints.  It is an additional blessing that I was picked to lead the mission.  I thank Saint Pinkamena every day for this opportunity.  I’d also like to thank a certain former squire of mine for helping to make it all happen.

	I don’t know what you’re working on for the Mystics, but Steadfast contacted me and said you and Delver might need some ‘morale boosting letters’.  He implied life-threatening boredom.  I hope this news makes you at least half as happy as it did me, and brightens up your day.  It is, after all, my job to bring joy.

	Love, your friend,

	Turquoise

1112 AF, Ruins of Manehattan

Brightblade was already stumbling to his hooves when Emberglow came to.  Silverfeather was stirring, moaning with pain.  Emberglow saw Bitterroot next, her chest barely rising and falling with shallow breaths.  Her side was riddled with shrapnel.  A dozen points of sharp pain along Emberglow’s flanks and barrel let her know she probably looked the same.  She was about to start a healing spell on the older Radiant when she heard the ricochet of bullets against the shattered pavement.

“Get them under cover of the tree line!” Brightblade ordered desperately.  While shield spells were quite effective against small arms fire like the heretics’ rifles, they required consciousness to maintain, and neither Silverfeather nor Bitterroot appeared very conscious.  Brightblade dashed over to try and shield the downed pegasus’ body with his own.  Emberglow did the same for Bitterroot.  The two Knights awkwardly dragged their injured comrades, while doing their best to cover them from incoming bullets.  “Where is Delver!?”

“He was holding off the heretics that attacked us,” Emberglow panted.  “He bought me time to warn you about the attack on the marines.  They circled around behind us.  He should be just to the south.”

Both ponies turned to look.  The unicorn and the griffon who had attacked earlier were nowhere to be seen.  Neither was Delver.

“No time to go hunting for him.  We need to regroup with the marines and retreat to the camp.”

Emberglow nodded, and dragged Bitterroot towards the treeline in quick, frantic motions. Her heart hammered in her chest as her eyes darted around, trying to spot any sign of the heretics.

But no attack came, and after a tense scramble, the two Knights reached the dubious safety of the tree cover with their wounded charges.  Brightblade lifted the unconscious Silverfeather onto his back while Emberglow did the same for Bitterroot, worry filling her gut as she struggled to pull the larger mare onto her back.  She barely reacted when Emberglow hefted her up, simply groaning in pain and then slumping into place.  She was like a dead weight.

 Emberglow tried hard not to think of the implications of the phrase.

A grim silence hung in the air between them as they dashed towards the forest to reach the marines.  Emberglow’s ears still rang from the explosion, but she could make out scattered gunfire through the trees as the outflanked soldiers exchanged shots with the heretics.  Her heart pounded with both worry and exertion as she pushed through the underbrush, just behind Brightblade.

The marines were scattered through the tree line, close to the road where the Knights had left them.  Most of the marines were wounded, with several wearing bloody bandages, though they crouched down, stoically watching the woods to the west with readied rifles.  Everypony was keeping their heads down, hoping to avoid the bullets that zipped by overhead.  Emberglow marveled at their resolve, even while feeling a touch guilty about her own protections that kept her safe from the deadly rain.

Emberglow looked for the medic first.  Sea Star was hard at work bandaging the wounded, crouched behind a fallen tree twisted and shattered by rifle fire.  When Emberglow and Brightblade approached, she was holding a compress on the barrel of a panting pegasus, who was lying limply on the forest floor and groaning in pain.  She didn’t need any immediate help, so Emberglow’s eyes shifted to the rest of the marines.

She hated how quickly and desperately she looked for her own friends among the wounded soldiers.  Fortunately Gadget wasn’t hard to find, crouching next to a few other marines from behind a fallen tree, watching the forest for any sign of enemy movement with their rifles aimed into the obscuring undergrowth. With a pang of worry, though, she realised that she saw no sign of Gearsmith.  She moved to check on Gadget, when Brightblade spoke up.

“On your hooves, marines.  We’re retreating up the hill to camp,” Brightblade ordered in hushed tones.  “If somepony can take our wounded Knights, Emberglow and I will lead the charge through whatever force they’ve got behind us. Help the wounded if you can, leave the dead behind.  There’s nothing more we can do for them.”  

Two of the marines stepped forward and carefully retrieved the two wounded Knights. Emberglow’s worry for Bitterroot redoubled as she shifted the limp pony onto the marine’s back. Bitterroot’s eyes were fluttering and unfocused, and her breathing was shallow.  She would need help soon.

There was movement near Emberglow, and she turned her head to see Gadget.  “How many?” Emberglow asked her softly.  Gadget appeared largely untouched except for a single bullet graze that painted her shoulder with a narrow line of blood.

“At least five,” Gadget said, her voice a mask of cold fear.  “It’s hard to see in this forest.  We’ve been separated from a few of the fallen, so we don’t know who’s wounded and who’s…”

“Where’s your father?” Emberglow asked, and Gadget shook her head.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. Her eyes were fixated on the dark forest, but Emberglow couldn't tell if she was looking for anything or just staring blankly. She felt a sudden compulsion to hug Gadget, but pushed the thought down before it could get dangerous. 

Swallowing, she looked back over to Brightblade. He was gazing over at them, looking annoyed. “You with me, Knight Emberglow?” he asked impatiently.  She nodded.  “Good.  Follow behind us, marines.”  Emberglow readied her spear, moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Mystic.  

Both of their spears were out and ready as Brightblade stepped forward first in a trot, then moving into a gallop. The marines formed up behind them, rifles ready for those that weren’t carrying wounded.  There were far too many wounded. Emberglow matched Brightblade’s pace, only a half-step behind.  She kept her eyes on the bushes and trees, waiting for a heretic to jump out with a weapon at any second.  

She didn’t have to wait long. Two earth ponies, dressed in camouflage like the unicorn from earlier, lunged at the charging Knights from behind one of the trees.  They both carried rifles, but neither fired, choosing instead to charge with the wicked looking bayonets fixed to the ends of their weapons.  

Emberglow hesitated, slowing nearly to a trot, but Brightblade didn’t break his stride.  With a roar of fury, he knocked the first bayonet aside with the haft of his spear, allowing the second to scrape harmlessly against his shoulder armor and bounce away.  A swift strike with his front hoof knocked the heretic soldier on his side, and Brightblade rammed his spear down, jamming it into the heretic’s barrel.  The pony went limp with a shriek of pain, and his companion took a fearful step back.  

Emberglow’s own swing of her spear caught him unawares, the haft smashing into the side of his head and knocking him to the forest floor. He fell with a limp thump, eyes glazed over. Brightblade yanked his spear out of the heretic with a grunt and a curse, and the two of them continued on.  Emberglow could hear the sounds of the marines, following behind them in tight lines.

“They’re spread out through the forest,” he said, his voice even.  “There’s probably enough of them to keep the marines pinned, but not enough to keep us from making it back to the camp.”  Emberglow had nothing to add, so she simply nodded as they galloped forward.  He turned back to the ponies behind them.  “Marines, keep them pinned.  We’ll make a breach in whatever lines they have, you all keep them from coming into our flanks.”

Shots rang out from the forest around them, and the marines returned fire as they ran.  It was enough; Emberglow could hear the sounds of heretics fleeing through the foliage.  Finally they reached the edge of the trees around the Hill.

“Watch out for more mortar fire,” Brightblade muttered as the two of them looked up at the camp on top of the Hill.  There was about a quarter mile to go for safety, but there was nothing they could do if the heretics decided to drop more explosives on their heads.  “They’ll probably start firing again as soon as we break the tree line.”

“I know,” Emberglow said softly.  They paused long enough for the marines to gather behind them again.

“Okay,” Brightblade said, and took a deep breath.  “Let’s go.”

The charge up the hill made Emberglow feel more exposed than she ever had in her life.  It seemed like it should have been such a simple thing, galloping up a grassy hill in the middle of the afternoon.  Any bullets fired at them wouldn’t even really hurt her.  But she wasn’t the only pony galloping, and she keenly felt the weight of the lives of each of the ponies she was responsible for.  Bitterroot was wounded, and Emberglow didn’t know how badly.  Even though she didn’t want to think about it, she realized she might be the only healer responsible for every one of these ponies.  Every bullet that whizzed past her, every whine as a mortar closed in on their group, chilled her to the core.  None of the explosions hit as closely as the one that had nearly killed her and Brightblade earlier, though it did mean that the Knights and marines were charging through a haze of dirt and smoke kicked up by the mortars.  After hearing the third scream of pain from a bullet wound behind her, however, Emberglow decided she couldn’t stand not knowing who was being hurt, even if she couldn’t really stop to help anypony.

“I’ll bring up the rear!” she shouted to Brightblade, slowing down her pace before he could reply.  Emberglow’s heart broke with each new wounded pony that charged past her up the hill, several bleeding, some helping their fellows move up the incline.  She tried her best to think like a medic, falling back on her training to analyze each wound and casualty, and begin making triage decisions.  

Her first step would be Bitterroot.  If a quick spell could get the older healer up on her feet and moving, then that would double Emberglow’s resources. After that, she would try her best to save the others.

Finally, after far too few marines had passed her, Emberglow saw the last wounded pony and fell into place behind him.  She tried not to think about the fact that Gearsmith hadn’t been among the ponies rushing past her, nor the look of despair on his daughter’s face as she had run past.

Passing through the magenta barrier at the top of the hill was like passing the finish line in a race.  The ponies left in camp were waiting for them just on the other side of the earthworks.  Tumbleweed was in front, and several marines filled in behind him carrying bandages and bottles of painkiller and antiseptic.  His eyes immediately found Emberglow as she stumbled into camp, mostly out of breath.

“We have a makeshift medical tent set up for you, Lady Embeglow,” Tumbleweed motioned to a row of beds set up on a tarp on the ground, covered by a lean-to propped up with wooden poles salvaged from other tents.  “We’re ready to begin triage.”

“Good.  Get with Sea Star, she knows the worst cases.  Lifesaving procedures only right now.  I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve seen to Bitterroot.”  Emberglow directed the marines carrying the two Knights to set their slack forms down on the first two bedrolls in the tent.  Silverfeather had already been wounded before the mortar had exploded near them, and she looked worse, so Emberglow saw to her first with a quick diagnosis spell.  No concussion, but minor head trauma and cranial bruising.  Cochlear damage, probably from being too close to an explosion.  Fractures in both the ulna and radius of the right wing.  Dozens of minor lacerations from shrapnel, but fortunately no major tissue damage or internal bleeding.  She was conscious, and shook her head as soon as Emberglow was done casting.

“…’m fine,” she muttered.  “Save your spells.”  Normally Emberglow would have ignored a patient when they protested her aid that way, but in this case Silverfeather was correct.  None of her injuries were life-threatening.  She moved on to Bitterroot, who was also awake, already trying to raise her hoof to cast a spell.

“Hold still, Bitterroot,” Emberglow chided.  “I’ll diagnose you.”  It was a measure of how weary and injured the older medic was that she didn’t protest when Emberglow pushed Bitterroot’s hoof down to rest in the bed.  She cast the diagnosis spell quickly, her hoof trailing glowing motes in the air as she formed the runes.  As soon as the spell released, she sucked in a quick breath in horror.

“That bad?” Bitterroot gasped out with a grimace of pain.  Emberglow nodded, her eyes trailing over the wounded Knight.  Though the entry wounds looked small from the outside, they were deceptive.  Many of them hid much larger pieces of shrapnel, now embedded in bone and tissue throughout Bitterroot’s body.  There were jagged chunks of metal, illuminated magically to Emberglow’s vision, stuck in her lungs, in her stomach, in her intestines and other organs.  

A dozen Radiant surgeons, working for hours, might have been able to save her.  As it was, Bitterroot was doomed to a slow, painful death as the sharp metal inside her tore her insides to pieces.

“There’s shrapnel throughout your body,” Emberglow mumbled numbly.  Years of training were starting to take over, putting her brain and her mouth on autopilot even while she was screaming inside.  “Major pieces inside most of your organs.  You’re bleeding internally from at least four major locations, possibly more, and several small ones.  One of your lungs is collapsed.”

“I’m walking dead, then,” Bitterroot said grimly.  “Here are your orders, Knight.  We’re already hurting for spell batteries.  Triage rules, Emberglow.  Don’t waste any magic on me.  Other ponies could actually live tonight.”

“But…”

“Could use some morphine, though.  You’re a good Knight, sister.  Honor serving with you.  Saints bless.”  Bitterroot let her head rest on the bedroll, her eyes closed.  She wasn’t unconscious, not yet, but she was clearly done with the conversation.  

Emberglow blinked, took a step back, and was suddenly overwhelmed utterly.  The chaos, the cries and grunts of pain, ponies rushing around, the barrier still lighting up every few moments from the impact of bullets or mortar fire threatened to drown her in sound and sensation.  She felt emotions battering at the numbness in her mind: terror, panic, sorrow, helplessness.  She wasn’t ready.

“What are you doing?  Heal Bitterroot!” Brightblade was suddenly right next to her, screaming in her ear.  She turned to look at the Knight Mystic.  He was up close, right in her face, leaning forward aggressively.  Oddly, it was his angry, screeching demand that snapped her out of her inaction.

“No, sir,” she whispered softly but firmly.  “Tumbleweed,” she called out loudly enough to be heard over the maelstrom of noise and action.  “Please administer morphine to Lady Bitterroot.  She deserves to pass in peace.”

“Lethal dose, ma’am?” Tumbleweed asked as he trotted up.  Emberglow nodded.

“Yes, medic.  She belongs to the Saints now,” Emberglow said.  Tumbleweed rushed off to follow her orders, and Emberglow trotted to the worst off of the marines, a pegasus scout who was already bleeding through the hastily applied field dressing that Sea Star had put on earlier.

“What are you doing, Knight?” Brightblade demanded loudly.  “You barely even cast anything on Bitterroot!  I order you to heal her!”  

Emberglow ignored him, raising her hoof to diagnose the scout. Brightblade roughly shoved her hoof down and bulldozed into her, shoving her bodily with his chest.  He had a crazed, furious look in his eyes, and was breathing heavily.

“Sir, can you cast healing spells?” she asked.  He blinked, and shook his head.  “Are you a trained medic?”

“No, but…”

“Then get out of my way.  This scout is going to die without my magic.  No matter what I cast on Bitterroot, she’ll be dead before tomorrow morning.”

“But…”

“Out of my way, sir,” she said through gritted teeth, and before she could think about what she was doing, she shoved past him, hitting him hard with her shoulder to knock him out of the way.  Emberglow was sure he was going to retaliate, but found that she didn’t really care at the moment. Ignoring Brightblade, she stepped forward to diagnose, then heal the broken scout.  

“Now Silverfeather,” he demanded as soon as she was done. She shook her head and moved to the next worst patient, an earth pony marine with blood matting his uniform.

“Silverfeather’s injuries are minor and non-lethal,” she said.  “The medics will handle her once we’ve stabilized those who will die otherwise.  Haven’t you ever heard of triage, sir?”  Emberglow was surprised at the anger in her own voice, the bitter note that had crept in when she wasn’t thinking about it.  She realized she wasn’t just angry at Brightblade.  She was seething.  “I’m going to do my job, sir, if you’ll let me.  I’ll save as many ponies as I can, and I’ll not waste resources on those who can’t be saved.  Every second you distract me, or shove me around, or try to give me your idiotic, ignorant orders, ponies could be dying.”

“Ponies that are worth far less than a Knight,” Brightblade interjected loudly.  Several marines nearby stiffened, but nopony said anything.

“Silverfeather will live.  Bitterroot will not.  Nothing I do right now will change that.  Now, you’re wounded as well, right?  Get in a bed, sir.”

“What?” Brightblade said, blinking at the whiplash of the sudden subject change.

“You heard me, sir.  Those are my orders to you.  Get in a bed and get checked out by one of the medics.  Either Tumbleweed or Sea Star.  I have more important cases to see to.”  There was no real reason to say that last, but some petty, angry little part of her needed to deflate Brightblade a bit.  Even better, he knew Emberglow was right, and as the senior medical officer could actually give him those orders.

“What if I refuse?” he demanded.  Emberglow sighed.  The exhale brought with it a keen knowledge of her sheer exhaustion, every bodily ache and muscle soreness, every cut and bruise and strain on her body.

“Then I can do nothing, sir.  I’ll just have to work around you,” she said, and she began to cast her spells on the wounded marine in the bed.  Brightblade stared at her a moment, then let out a scream of frustration before stomping off to an empty bedroll.  The display was childish, but Emberglow actually sympathized with him for a second.  She too wanted to scream and stomp her hooves in frustration.  

She tried to bury herself in her tasks, but it wasn’t quite enough to tune out all of the sounds around her, the moans and whimpers of pain, the soft voices of the other medics and marines, and even the vocal complaints of her commanding Knight, who had at least finally managed to find a bed.

The motions became automatic after a while, and Emberglow took a numb sort of comfort from the distraction.  She cast healing runes until her battery ran dry, then switched it out for another.  The second was partially used, and there was a small splatter of dried blood over one of the green gems on the side.  It had been salvaged from Bitterroot’s rune gauntlet.  Emberglow blinked, allowing herself a brief whimper before retreating again behind whatever cold detachment she could summon.  At least the motes would be put to use.

Once all the life threatening cases had been seen to, Emberglow moved on to Silverfeather.  The medics had gotten there before her, and her broken wing was set and bandaged with a splint.  She figured that since the critical cases were all stabilized, Brightblade would want her to spend her energy on healing the most useful members of their team.  The idea of it burned inside her; it felt like the same sort of ridiculous elitism that had plagued the Ivy Seminary.  Did the Saints value certain lives above others?  She didn’t think so, not even their Knights.  But there was a certain brutal practicality to it all.  So she trotted over to the Knight Adamant, who was resting with her eyes closed, awkwardly on her side so that she could keep her broken wing spread out.

“Are you awake?” Emberglow said softly.  The medics had stripped off her armor, leaving behind only a stained gambeson, before pulling a blanket up over her.  The silver pegasus nodded.  “Is there much pain?”

“They gave me a shot,” the Adamant whispered.  Her voice was tired and dazed, but not strained, so Emberglow figured she wasn’t suffering too much.

“We’re going to need you up and on your hooves as soon as possible,” Emberglow said.  “I’m going to fix your wing, and probably your head injury.  Everything else will most likely have to heal on its own; I’m guessing we’re going to be saving our batteries as much as possible.”

“I can handle it, Emberglow,” the Knight said.  “The wing is the worst.  Please.”  There was a note of fear in her voice that Emberglow understood.  To a pegasus, their wings were their life.  To be denied the sky for any reason, even temporarily, was torture.  She raised her hoof and cast the spell to mend and knit the fragile wing bones.  Silverfeather shivered with discomfort and kept her eyes closed, but when the spell was over she began trying to struggle to her hooves.

“Nope.  Bed rest until otherwise ordered,” Emberglow said, pushing gently on the mare’s shoulder to keep her in the bed.  Silverfeather nodded tiredly as she slumped back into the bedroll, and Emberglow cast a quick spell to heal her head injury, as well.

Once Silverfeather was seen to, Emberglow sought out Sea Star.  There were some questions she’d been avoiding, but now that things were less urgent she was desperate to know.  Sea Star was wrangling a few of the less injured marines into carrying bowls of stew to the wounded.  When Emberglow trotted up, Sea Star turned to Emberglow, pausing in the act of giving instructions to the marines.

“Everypony stable?” she asked, though she already knew the answer considering Sea Star was feeding the wounded.  Sea Star nodded.  “Good.  Um, I need to know if you’ve seen Sir Delver come in.”

“No, ma’am,” Sea Star said.  “I didn’t see what happened to him.”  Emberglow winced, but wasn’t too surprised.  It was what she’d been expecting.

“What about Gearsmith?” she asked nervously, glancing over at Gadget, who was sitting up in one of the bedrolls with a blank sort of look on her face while an unwounded marine handed her a bowl of steaming vegetable stew.

“I don’t know, Lady Emberglow.  He’s one of the ones we left behind.”

“Dead?” Emberglow asked, cold terror seeping through her numbness.

“I don’t really know,” the medic replied.  “He could be.  He was wounded, and we were all a bit spread out along the tree line, watching the road, when the attack came.”

“So, probably,” Emberglow said, and Sea Star nodded sadly.  “Okay.  Carry on, medic.  I’ll let his daughter know.”  This was a part of being a doctor too, wasn’t it?  Giving bad news to other ponies?  She began to trot over to Gadget, when she was stopped by Sea Star’s hoof on her shoulder.

“Lady Emberglow?  You’re going to need to slow down and rest, too.  You’re also wounded,” the medic chided gently.  Emberglow sighed and nodded.

“I know, medic.  I’ll talk to Gadget and then find a bed myself, okay?”

“Can’t rest properly in your armor, my lady,” Sea Star said as Emberglow trotted away.  “You need proper rest.”  Emberglow waved a hoof in dismissal, though she knew the medic was correct.

As she approached, Gadget’s eyes lit up,, though her ears drooped slightly when she saw Emberglow’s grim expression.  She sat down next to the marine in the bed, who moved to set down her bowl of stew.

“No, keep eating.  You need the energy,” Emberglow ordered, and Gadget shrugged, keeping the bowl in her hooves, though she made no moves to keep eating.

“Any news about my dad?” Gadget asked.  There was a desperate edge of hope in her voice,.  Emberglow shook her head.

“No.  Sea Star didn’t see what happened to him.  Did you?”

“No.  We got separated when the shooting began.  Lady Emberglow, did we leave him behind?  What if he’s still alive?!  We have to—“

Emberglow held up a hoof to Gadget’s lips, shushing the pony before she could build too much steam.  Desperately she thought of something she could say, something she could do, to offer some degree of comfort to the mare.  She came up blank.

“I’m sorry, Gadget.  There’s nothing we can do right now.”  The words were hollow, and Emberglow hated herself for saying them.  Gadget’s bright blue eyes were wet, and Emberglow expected her to begin sobbing any moment, but the marine simply nodded and sniffed.  She set down her bowl of soup and clung to Emberglow’s hoof, squeezing it tightly.  She clenched her eyes shut, and tears dripped down from the corners.  With another tight squeeze, she released Emberglow’s hoof.

“Sorry,” she sniffled quietly, sounding miserable and embarrassed.  Emberglow shook her head, taking her now free hoof and wrapping it around the other mare, bringing her in tight for a comforting hug.  Emberglow held her while she shook, silent sobs finally slipping from the earth pony mare as she hid her face against Emberglow’s chest armor.

“Have faith, Gadget.  The Saints will—“

“Ponies of the Diarchy!” a booming, magically enhanced voice pounded on the camp from outside the barrier.  It was the now familiar, slightly mocking tone of the heretic unicorn, though this time he sounded completely serious.  Emberglow and Gadget both jumped, startled by the sudden noise.  Several of the wounded ponies dropped bowls or spoons when the voice spoke, and the chaos of the camp suddenly froze as everypony immediately stopped what they were doing to listen.

“We are not without pity or heart.  You have until sundown to retrieve your dead.  See to your comrades, and we’ll continue this bloody business in the morning.  You have my word that nopony will fire or harm anypony gathering up your fallen friends.”

With that, the voice went silent.  Emberglow released Gadget, holding her at hoof’s length and looking into her eyes, now suddenly alight with hope.

“We can see if he’s still out there,” Gadget said, her voice lifting as she pleaded with Emberglow.  “We have to go!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Emberglow said.  “And I doubt I am, either.  Brightblade will probably send some of the marines who haven’t been wounded.  Rest here, I’ll go speak with him.  Don’t worry, Gadget.  We’ll find out what happened to your father, I promise. For now, you should eat up.”  She gently picked up Gadget’s bowl and placed it in the mare’s hooves with an admonishing look, and Gadget dutifully began eating again.  

Emberglow rose to her hooves and began moving down the line of bedrolls to where Brightblade sat.  Inwardly she dreaded the conversation she was about to have with him.  To date, every conversation she’d had with Brightblade had been antagonistic.  As she passed the beds of wounded, Sea Star was changing the bandages on a marine as she passed.  She glanced up and eyed Emberglow sternly as she passed.

“Lady Emberglow…” the medic said disapprovingly.  Emberglow nodded, cutting her off.

“I know, I know.  Rest.  I will, I promise,” she said, though she didn’t break her stride.  She had things to take care of, first.  Brightblade looked up as she approached.  He, too, was sitting up in his bedroll, and his wounds were all freshly bandaged.  His eyes were fixed and hard as she trotted up, and before Emberglow could say anything, he shook his head sharply.

“No,” he said firmly.  Emberglow was confused at first, cocking her head to the side slightly.

“What?” she asked.

“I said no.  You’re not going out there.  It’s a trap, don’t you see?” the Knight Mystic said, rolling his eyes with a huff.

“Sir, it doesn’t have to be me,” Emberglow said.  “I just wanted to speak to whoever is going out there first.”

“Nopony is.  Nopony’s going outside this shield.  That’s my decision, Emberglow.”

“Sir?  Why, sir?” Emberglow said, her confusion and frustration mounting.  “There could still be wounded out there!”

“We’ll be playing right into whatever twisted plot that bastard has planned.  I’m not risking any of my healthy marines on an obvious ploy.  If we’re going to complete our mission here, we can’t waste any resources or lives on something as foolish as retrieving dead bodies.  It’s not worth the risk.”

“’If we’re going to complete our mission’?” Emberglow quoted back to him, incredulously.  “Sir, do you even hear what you’re saying?”  Something snapped in her, and she stomped her hooves against the dirt.  “Buck your mission, sir!  Those are real ponies, who gave their lives serving the Saints, and serving you!  The least we can do is make sure they’re laid to rest properly, and not savaged by some cursed creature out there!”  Brightblade’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but Emberglow’s rant was still gaining momentum.  “And that’s not even counting the ponies that could still be alive out there!  We don’t even know if Delver’s alive!  Or Gearsmith!”  She was panting, twitching with fury.  “Do you even care?  Do their lives even register for you?”

“I—” Brightblade began to protest.

“No, they don’t!” she spat fiercely, and leaned forward, staring at him.  “You’re afraid, aren’t you, sir?  You were ready to trust the words of the heretics when they offered a truce to parley earlier, but not now?  One taste of defeat and you want to cower behind the shield here, and leave our own ponies out there to rot.”

“Are you done?” Brightblade asked coldly, with murder in his eyes.  Emberglow was startled out of her anger for just a moment.  It was nearly the same thing Turquoise had said to her, back when she was a squire, when she’d lost her temper at the Knight Jubilant.  Brightblade took her sudden silence as assent.  “Very well then.  My orders stand.  You will…”

“I’m going,” Emberglow announced shortly.  Brightblade gaped, and she walked away from him.  She’d gone nearly twenty steps before the Knight Mystic found his voice.

“Emberglow, stop!  Don’t you dare!  Turn around right now, Knight Private!  This is an order, and you’re insubordinate!”  She let the yells and the anger wash over her, not even turning to look or to argue.  She’d already made up her mind and set her path.  Her thoughts were a chaotic mess, bouncing about in her head with no logic or pattern.  She simply needed to know what had happened to Delver, and Gearsmith, and all the other ponies they’d left behind.  She was dimly aware that their argument and Brightblade's thunderous shouting had drawn the stares of everypony in camp. She was too tired, and frustrated, to care.  Nopony tried to stop her anyway.

By the time she reached the edge of the camp, just behind the earthworks at the edge of the shield, she finally slowed to a stop, her eyes drifting over the marines there guarding the edge of the camp.  Each one of them looked uncomfortable.  Nopony in camp could have possibly missed the shouting earlier, but neither did they look like they wanted to stop her.

“I’m going to get the bodies of our friends who were killed,” Emberglow said to them.

“By yourself?” one asked incredulously.  Emberglow looked behind her.  Everypony in camp seemed frozen, watching her with stunned looks on their faces.

“Looks like it,” she said.  She began walking up to the marines, not pausing, forcing the two closest in her way to part and let her through.  She passed through the magenta glow of the shield, not bothering to climb through the trench, instead spreading her wings and flapping just enough to transverse the gap.  

It wasn’t until she touched down on the other side and began trotting down the hill that she realized she hadn’t even bothered to put up a shield spell.  Her breath caught in her throat and she waited for death to come in the form of swift lead.  Nopony fired on her, and she didn’t feel the sensation of bullets tearing through her flesh.  

Slowly she began to breathe again, frozen at the top of the hill just outside the shield. Mentally, she chided herself for just standing still in an open space, before slowly spreading her wings and taking off, flying down the hill until she reached the tree line at the bottom, where she knew the first of her fallen ponies rested.

The forest somehow looked different from when she’d been here, just a few hours ago.  Maybe it was the difference in the light, the sun at a different angle.  Maybe it had something to do with the fact that nopony was currently trying to kill her.  But it took Emberglow a few confusing minutes to find where they’d laid Sergeant Arrow down before continuing on.

The sergeant was right where they’d left her, still and silent in death.  Rigor mortis had not fully set in, but the body was already starting to stiffen, making it difficult to maneuver into a convenient position to carry back to camp.  Though she wasn’t a skilled flyer, Emberglow was at least a strong one; she’d always taken time to exercise and train her muscles and endurance as best she could.  It meant that though it would be neither graceful nor efficient, she would still be able to lift the body and at least fly short distances.  

As gently as she could, Emberglow shifted the sergeant so she could loop her hooves around her body from behind, underneath her forehooves, lifting her stiffly as Emberglow rose into the air.  She couldn’t get very far into the skies due to the dense canopy, but at least managed to get far enough off the ground so that the sergeant’s hooves weren’t dragging on the forest floor.  It seemed disrespectful, after all.

When she broke the tree line at the bottom of the hill, two pegasus scout stallions were there, hovering just a couple of feet off the ground with uncomfortable, fearful looks on their faces.  Both of them were wounded, but just barely, having only minor wounds which were all cleanly bandaged.  Their rifles were at the ready, trained on the forest line as if waiting for an enemy to emerge.  Emberglow set the body down gently at the foot of the hill, just outside the tree line.

“You two broke orders to come help?” Emberglow asked.  They looked scared and upset, and neither one wanted to meet her eyes.

“Um, no ma’am,” one of them said. “We’ve been given orders to, um…”

“Brightblade wants you to bring me back,” Emberglow guessed.  “Okay then.  I’ve always wondered what it felt like to get shot.”  Her flippancy alarmed even her; it wasn’t like her to be so cavalier towards injury and pain.  But there was something about the absurdity of the situation that made her so flippant.  It was as if none of this was truly real.

“Ma’am?” the stallion asked, confused.

“I mean, if you’re going to make me go back to camp before I get all of our fallen, you’re going to have to shoot me,” she clarified.  The stallions looked first horrified, then relieved.

“Oh, no ma’am.  That’s not our orders.  We’re only supposed to shoot you if, uh…” the first stallion trailed off, searching for the right words.

“If you do something weird,” the yellow one finished uncomfortably.

There was something in the way he said it, the way the scout hesitated over the last word that broke a dam in Emberglow’s head.  She began to chuckle, and then laugh, great big gasping laughs that felt like half a hoof’s length from sobs.  It was the laughter of the damned, the same kind of gallows humor laughter that she remembered from her days serving soup to ponies in the pillory.  It forced its way up from her stomach and out her mouth, and she shook until she hurt all over.  

The two scouts stared at her, fear and uncertainty plain on their faces, their ears shooting up in alarm.  Their weapons were held awkwardly, as if they weren’t quite comfortable pointing them at her, but they weren’t quite comfortable not doing so, either.  It only lasted a minute or two, but when she was done there were tears in Emberglow’s eyes.

“Um…” the first scout began.  Emberglow waved a hoof as she caught her breath.

“Something weird?  Really?” she asked, shaking her head.  “So I shouldn’t do something weird.  Got it.”  The entire situation was beyond absurd for her.  There was no logic to anything that was happening, no sense, and she could only either laugh uncontrollably or break down and become completely nonfunctional.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” the grey scout asked.  Emberglow could see his thoughts practically written on his face.  He was worried she’d completely lost her mind.  It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption.  Any pony, when exposed to the violence, terror, and loss of the last several hours, could snap entirely and become unhinged.  The analytical part of her brain wasn’t entirely uncertain that hadn’t already happened to her.

“I’d be a lot better if the two of you helped me gather these poor ponies, rather than floating there trying to pretend you’re not at the ready to point your guns at me,” she replied, with the same uncharacteristic flippancy she’d shown earlier.  It only took a moment of decision.  The two scouts glanced at each other, sharing a glance that only lasted a second before stowing their rifles and landing alongside her.  “Don’t worry, you can still shoot me if I do something weird.”  She managed to stifle another giggle that would have become a second, full blown eruption of inappropriate laughter.  

The two scouts looked nervous, but they followed her into the trees.  Emberglow hadn’t been with the rest of the scouts and marines when they came under fire within the forest, so their help was invaluable for finding those ponies who had fallen and been left behind.  The three of them carried out their grim task mostly in silence, speaking only when absolutely necessary.  There were no signs or hints of the heretics, though Emberglow did see places where the enemy ponies may have retrieved their own fallen.  There was blood splattered on the leaves of the undergrowth and the trunks of the trees, and Emberglow thought it might be a miracle that they hadn’t been overrun by scavengers or predators yet.

The three ponies gathered the corpses at the foot of the hill, just outside the tree line.  Emberglow wanted to be sure each of the missing ponies was accounted for before beginning to haul them up the hill.  She wished uselessly for a tarp or a blanket to cover at least their faces with; seeing the dead lined up in a row on the unfeeling earth, their still bodies and faces frozen forever in time, made her sick.  It felt disrespectful and undignified, but it was all she could do for now.  There was still no sign of Delver or Gearsmith.

“How many did we lose?” Emberglow asked when she and the scouts had hauled the fifth casualty out of the forest.  It was a pegasus mare, one of the scouts, and Emberglow thought there could be no more heartbreaking sight in the world than the mare’s limp, still wings, shattered and broken and useless forever.  The two scouts were stoic, but there was a dampness in both of their eyes and a stiffness to their movements.  Neither one could manage to look on their dead comrade’s face.

“Six, plus Sir Delver,” the yellow scout supplied.  Emberglow nodded.

“So we’re only looking for Gearsmith and Delver.  Last I saw Sir Delver was back near the road.  Does anypony mind if we fly?  I’ve seen enough of the inside of this forest.”

There were no objections.  Taking to the air, however briefly, felt strangely liberating.  She knew that there were probably heretics watching them, but Emberglow found herself just a bit too numb to care.  She found herself vacillating wildly between two extremes; in one instant either wracked with sorrow or hysteria, in the next completely frozen and shut down.  The trained doctor inside her was setting off alarms; this clearly wasn’t a healthy state of mind.  

But she’d given up on caring about it, so she waited for some heretic to decide that this whole truce was really just a great opportunity to snipe a Knight out of the sky and end her life with a bullet, or a blast of magical energy.  A rather large rock, levitated with the right amount of force, could probably do the job.  She shook her head, trying to clear it of her macabre thoughts.  She had a job to do; if she was going to get picked off by a heretic, at least she could go down searching for her friends and comrades.

“The last I saw him, he was over there,” Emberglow said, and the three set off in the direction she indicated.  There was no evidence of their fight, no blood on the ground.  She couldn’t see either the griffon or the unicorn who’d attacked.  She trotted towards the ruins, her eyes scanning the stone, looking for a telltale glint of modern metal or the blue paint of a Knight Adamant’s armor.  

 Finally, Emberglow spotted the form of her friend, slumped over a broken wall only two hoof lengths high.  His spear was fallen, abandoned on the ground just next to him, and there were splatters of drying blood all around.  His armor was dirty and stained, and it was clear that he was no longer alive.  Emberglow rushed over anyways, holding on to that last iota of hope.  The two scouts, startled by her sudden rush, followed behind.

Delver was dead.  Emberglow had expected it when she had left the camp, but that didn’t make it hurt less.  The pain of loss hit her suddenly, bursting through her numbness like a floodgate, and she lifted his body off of the broken wall, turning him over gently.  His eyes were open, frozen in an expression of pain.  She smoothed out his features with a hoof and closed his eyes.  All of the wounds she could see were deep claw marks; it was pretty obvious the griffon had been too much for the veteran Knight after she’d gone to find Brightblade.  With a moan of dismay, the tears finally came.

“Delver, I’m sorry,” she muttered.  It was her fault.  If she’d stayed, he’d probably still be alive.  She wept for a while, not the hysterical laughing sobs of earlier but a quiet thing of hot, bitter tears of grief and guilt.  She replayed the last few seconds before she left in her head, wondering what she could have done differently.  Could she have changed anything?  What if they’d gone back for him, would Delver have survived?  Emberglow’s energy seemed to drain out of her, and she slumped onto the ground, cradling her fellow Knight’s body.  The scouts watched her, their expressions a mixture of understanding and compassion.

“He was a good pony,” the yellow one volunteered.  “Good leader.  He cared about us.  Took the time to learn our names.”  It was another stab of guilt for Emberglow; she hadn’t learned the names of the scouts yet.  She opened her mouth to ask, but another voice interrupted, booming out boldly over the ruins.  It was a voice nopony recognized.

“There’s mutant scavengers about.  Two headed mosquitoes the size of your head.  Vultures with necks longer than a python.  Venomous tunneling rats.  If y’all wanna get your guts sucked out, that’s fine by me, but I’d wanna get out of here if I were you.”

Emberglow surged to her hooves and both scouts drew their rifles, aiming at the newcomer.  It was the same pastel pink unicorn she’d fought earlier, the one fighting alongside the griffon who had killed Delver.  She was standing about thirty yards away.  She still wore her headband and her camouflage robe, though they both appeared stained and in some places splattered with blood.  On the surface, she seemed unconcerned that there were two rifles pointed at her, though her horn was lit and glowed with an aura of magic.  Emberglow couldn’t see that she was casting any spells, so she was probably just holding herself at the ready.  

“Relax, I’m not gonna do anything,” the unicorn scoffed.  “Truce, remember?”

“Why?” Emberglow called out.

“Because we’re better than you,” the heretic replied, lifting her nose slightly in a gesture of contempt.  “D’you think your shiny little purple smart leader would do the same if the situation was reversed?”  Emberglow said nothing, and the heretic laughed.  “Thought so.  Now I’d get, if I were you.  You’re running out of time, and we’ll fire on anypony out of the shield after sundown.”

“We still have one more casualty to find,” Emberglow called back.

“Earth pony, marine uniform, blue fur?” the heretic asked.  When Emberglow again remained silent, the unicorn continued.  “Don’t worry about him, he’s fine.  You won’t find his body because we took him.  Prisoner of war.  Don’t worry, we’re not monsters like you.  He’ll be unharmed for now.”

“Where is he?  Where is Gearsmith?” Emberglow demanded, nearly tripping over Delver’s body as she instinctively tried to move towards the unicorn.  Both scouts reached out to stop her.

“I told you.  He’s safe, we’ve got him, he’ll be fine.  Odds are he’ll be the only one of you lot to survive this mistake,” the mare shot back.  “Now hurry on back and tell your boss that this is all a waste of time.  Our boss’ offer still stands; if he wants to leave, we’ll hold the door open for him.  We’ll even give you back your marine.”

The three ponies glanced at each other, though the scouts refused to take their eyes off the unicorn for more than a split second.  Nopony wanted a fight, and there didn’t seem to be much more gained from conversation.  With difficulty, and help from the scouts, Emberglow managed to position Delver on her back.  Between his larger size and his metal armor, he would probably be far too heavy to fly with like she had with the sergeant.  The unicorn watched the entire time, silently, her expression inscrutable.  When they finally began heading back towards the hill, with the two scouts backing away with rifles ready, she raised her voice one last time.

“Hey.  What was his name?” she asked.  Emberglow looked back at her, both confused and angry.

“You don’t have the right to ask that question,” she stated.  The scouts glared at the heretic.

“Sure, if you want,” the heretic replied.  “He fought well.  Bravely, ya know?  Dad likes to know the names of his toughest opponents.  So he can honor them.  It’s a griffon thing, passed down from Gallus Freewind.”

“We have nothing more to say to you,” Emberglow said, and turned her back on the unicorn.  With a shrug of disappointment, the unicorn turned around as well and slunk off through the ruins, away from them all.  The scouts kept their eyes on her until they crossed the broken street and reached the tree line.  Once again she hesitated; she didn’t want to go back into the trees.

“We’ll help you, and fly him over the trees,” the grey one offered.  Emberglow nodded.  The two of them took her heavy burden from her, awkwardly carrying the fallen Knight between the two of them while Emberglow followed behind.  They flew over the trees and back to the hill where, to Emberglow’s surprise, ponies from the camp were already retrieving the fallen they’d lined up at the bottom.  

It appeared Sir Brightblade had changed his mind, unless more ponies had decided to defy him.  She hoped it was the former.  Her own insubordination was one thing, but inspiring that kind of rebellion in others made her feel low.  It wasn’t that she thought she had been wrong, but she hadn’t really paused to consider the consequences of what she was doing.  The idea that Emberglow might inspire others into sinful disobedience twisted her gut with shame.

Gadget was among those marines who were helping to haul the fallen ponies up the hill towards the camp.  As soon as Emberglow landed, she and one other marine gently lowered Delver’s body from her back onto one of several stretchers the marines had built and brought down from the camp.  Everypony who could see what was happening paused, glancing their way with somber expressions.  Gadget glanced at Delver’s lifeless body and blinked away tears, before looking back up at Emberglow impatiently.

“Where’s Dad?” Gadget asked.  Emberglow had dreaded this.  “Did you find him, too?”  Hope warred with dread in the mare’s voice and demeanor.

“He was captured.  By the enemy.  They said he’s alive.”

“Captured?  He’s a prisoner?  That means he’s safe, at least.  But wait, you said you talked to the heretics?  But…”

“Later,” Emberglow said, hushing the mare.  “Let’s get this done first, okay?”  Gadget blushed, but nodded.  “How angry is Brightblade?”  She kept her voice low as she took up the back of the stretcher.  Gadget took the front, cringing at the question.

“He’s… uh… angry,” Gadget said nervously.  “I think you need to worry more about Sea Star, though.  She looked like she was gonna kill you.”

“Sea Star?  But…” Emberglow began, but then remembered.  The medic mare hadn’t given her an order to rest, but she might as well have, right before her explosion at Brightblade.  Then Emberglow had run off to retrieve bodies.  She keenly felt the need for rest in every single one of her muscles and bones.  “I’ll apologize to her.”  In front of her Gadget gave a wan smile.  It had no real cheer to it.

Marching up the hill for the second time today was even more taxing than the first.  By the time she reached the top, Emberglow wanted simply to slump into her bedroll and sleep for a month.  But there were things that had to be dealt with first.  The bodies she could leave to the two medics.  Sir Brightblade stood in the center of the camp, watching her approach with Delver’s body.  His expression was patient but barely, a thin cork holding back an entire bottleful of repressed fury.  His eyes bored into her, but he didn’t approach her.  Once eye contact was made, he nodded stiffly before trotting back to the command tent.  He turned to look again before he entered, an expectant look on his face.  She nodded back.

The bodies were laid down in a row, covered by blankets so that only the still, vague pony shapes could be seen.  Emberglow ached as she thought about the loss, a pain freshened again by the realization that she hadn’t even been there when Bitterroot had slipped away.  She hoped the lethal dose of morphine had taken away all the agony before the veteran had died.  Once Delver and the others were in place, the two surviving medics approached her.

“What now, Lady Emberglow?” Tumbleweed asked.  “Should we… dig graves?”

“I’d rather not lay these ponies to rest here on this hill, so far from their homes,” Emberglow replied.  “But we might have to.  I’ll ask Brightblade.  I think he wants to speak with me right now.”

“You need to rest and eat, Lady Emberglow,” Sea Star insisted.

“I will.  I promise.”

“Just like you said you would before you charged off, by yourself, into lethal territory?” she accused angrily.  Tumbleweed glanced at her, shocked, and she blushed, looking embarrassed and a touch afraid.  “Uh, sorry ma’am.”

“No, you’re right,” Emberglow said gently, patting the medic’s shoulder.  “I will rest as soon as I’ve spoken with Brightblade.  You have my word.  I’ll swear on the Book, if you need me to.”  The pale attempt at levity didn’t really elicit more than a thin smile from both medics, but Emberglow had expected as much.

“Can we at least help you out of your armor?” Sea Star asked, and Emberglow relented.

Clad only in her gambeson, and after two more promises to seek her bed and a bit of rations for herself as soon as she’d spoken with Brightblade, Emberglow finally trotted off towards the command tent.  She hadn’t taken much time to think about what might come of her little public insubordination against her commander earlier, but now the dread of this meeting was setting in.  She was fairly certain that she might have ended her career.  A discharge from the Knights might actually be a best case scenario at this point.  A court martial was nearly guaranteed.  She lifted the flap aside and slipped into the tent as unobtrusively as possible.  Brightblade sat alone, next to the small table that held the maps, looking just as exhausted as she was.

“So,” he began, then fell silent.  Emberglow said nothing.  She imagined, as an interrogation technique, the silence was supposed to unsettle her, but she was just too tired to care.

“I’m sorry I had to defy you like that, sir.  In public, with all the marines watching.  It was inappropriate.”

“’You’re sorry you ‘had to’?”  Brightblade snorted.  “Sounds like a piss poor apology to me.”

“I’m not going to say I’m sorry for what I did.  That would be a lie,” Emberglow stated.  Brightblade gave an annoyed grunt, muttering something angry under his breath.

“I could have you shot, you know,” Brightblade mused.  He didn’t sound like he was joking.  “Executed for insubordination.  It’s within my legal right.  Convince me why I shouldn’t.”

It was not exactly a conversation that Emberglow had been prepared for.  She was exhausted and depressed, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in her bedroll for a week.  She blurted out the first thing she could think of.

“Because, um, you need me, sir.  With Bitterroot killed in action, I’m the only Radiant left.”

“I know a few heal spells,” Brightblade said.  “Joyful Sound does as well.  I’m sure Silverfeather and Gem aren’t entirely ignorant of combat first aid.  You’re not completely indispensable, and if that’s why you thought you could defy me, you’re wrong.”

“I don’t think I’m indispensable, sir.  That’s not why I disobeyed you,” she said.  She expected to feel fear at the threat he was making, but instead she felt nothing.  “Killing me would be a waste of resources, and terrible for morale.”  Brightblade gave a snort of laughter.

“Is that the best you can do?” he sneered at her, before deflating into his own look of slumped exhaustion.  “Unfortunately, you’re right.  I can’t do anything to you yet.  But let me make the situation clear.  Right now, even with your defiance, you’re still a resource to me.  The instant you become a liability, I’ll snuff you out.  And you can be certain that my official report will contain everything you have done out here.  That almost certainly means a court martial.  Enjoy your last days in the Knighthood, Emberglow.  I suspect you might not be long for our ranks.”

“Yes sir,” Emberglow said simply.  She didn’t have anything to add; it was not like she hadn’t come to those same conclusions already.

“So, going forward, I’m going to need you firmly on board with me.  One hundred percent obedience to my orders.  Your little dramatic scene out there had everypony in camp sitting up and paying attention.  I can’t have that sort of thing happen again.  Nopony besides you has questioned my authority yet, but if you’re not behind me all the way it will get much worse.  Discipline and order will keep us alive, chaos and disharmony won’t.  So yes, maybe I’ll have you clapped in irons the second we make landfall back in New Canterlot City, but for now can you please fall in step and play nice so I don’t have to arrange a firing squad?”

“Yes sir,” Emberglow repeated.  Brightblade searched her face silently for a few moments, his suspicious eyes boring into her.  She stood still, not quite at attention, waiting for him to dismiss her.

“Get out of here,” he finally hissed, waving his hoof at her.  “I don’t want to see your face again until morning, and then only if I have to.”  With a short nod Emberglow spun and left the tent.

Outside, there were two marines waiting for her, standing a few feet outside the command tent flap.  Sea Star and Gadget both looked tired, covered in sweat and grime, but otherwise healthy.  There was a stern look on both of their faces.

“Were you listening?” Emberglow asked.  Both mares shook their heads.

“No ma’am.  I’m simply here to ensure that you wind up where you’re supposed to be,” Sea Star said formally.  “Even if I have to drag you by your ear.”

“I’ve just been recruited to help,” Gadget said.  She looked nervous.  “But I’m under orders to help with ear dragging if requested.”  It was a sign of Emberglow’s exhausted mind that the idea of Gadget biting her ear didn’t sound half bad.  She nearly giggled at the loopy thought.  Her career was probably over, she might not live through the next few days, and she was busy giggling at a clearly sinful impulse.  She really did need rest.

“Very well then, marines.  I won’t resist arrest,” Emberglow said, trying and failing to repress the little giggle that spilled out.  The other two mares looked at her askance, but neither said anything.  They took positions on either side of her as they escorted her to her tent.  The whole situation struck her rest-deprived mind as hilarious, until she remembered the fate of the mare she’d been sharing her tent with.

“Sea Star.  I couldn’t be there when Bitterroot died,” Emberglow began.  Sea Star shook her head.

“No.  I can hear that guilt in your voice, Lady Emberglow.  You’re not going to beat yourself up about Lady Bitterroot.  We gave her enough morphine to pass peacefully.  It’s beyond your hooves, she’s with the Saints now.  You need to worry about your own health right now.”

Emberglow did her very best to take the advice, but when they reached her tent, it simply felt far too empty.  Both of the other mares must have sensed her mood.

“Marine, stay here and make sure the lady takes her rest.  I’ll go fetch her some rations,” Sea Star ordered as she gently but firmly shoved Emberglow down onto her bedroll.  Emberglow didn’t put up a fight.

“Yes, ma’am,” Gadget said, her eyes on Emberglow as Sea Star slipped out of the tent.

“What about you?” Emberglow asked, mostly to fill the strained silence that descended on the two mares.

“Sea Star already made me eat,” Gadget whispered.  Emberglow could hear the fear, the pain, in her voice.  Of course.  Gadget was worried about her father.  “So…”

“I don’t know much,” Emberglow admitted.  “Just what the unicorn said to us when we were retrieving Delver’s body.  I don’t even know if she was telling the truth.  I’m sorry.”

“So she said he was taken?  He’s their prisoner now?” Gadget asked, her voice quivering and on the edge.  Emberglow nodded.  “She wouldn’t have any reason to lie, would she?  What’s gonna happen to him?”

“I don’t know, Gadget,” Emberglow whispered, and flinched as the marine tried to hold back a whimpering sob.  Gadget’s eyes were clenched shut and she sat back on her haunches, wrapping her forehooves around herself and shaking.  Emberglow wished she could reach out and comfort the mare.  She wished she had the courage to wrap her hooves around the marine, to take her into a soft, gentle embrace, and to help her forget about everything for just a few seconds.  She wished she didn’t hate herself so much for doing nothing.  She wished she didn’t feel so guilty for wanting to do something.

Sea Star came back with a dented but clean camp stove, full of a stew made of rehydrated carrots and peas.  She sat it down on the ground next to Emberglow’s bedroll.

“Please eat and rest, Lady Emberglow,” she said, glancing worriedly at Emberglow.  “We’re going to need you at your best if we’re going to make it out of this crazy place in one piece.”  The last sentence felt forced, almost as if Sea Star knew she was guilt tripping Emberglow.  Emberglow didn’t have much of an appetite, but she’d try to force herself to eat.  Guilt tripping or not, Sea Star was right — Emberglow still had a duty to the other ponies.  With one last worried glance at the other two, Sea Star slipped out of the tent.  Gadget rose to her hooves and moved to follow.

“You don’t have to go!” Emberglow blurted, flinching and blushing at how the words just seemed to spill out of her.  “I mean, if you don’t want to.”  The bowl of stew sat on the ground, ignored, as the two mares stared at each other.  Gadget nodded, moving closer to Emberglow before sitting back down.

“You should eat,” Gadget whispered hoarsely.  Emberglow nodded.  Neither pony moved.  Emberglow didn’t even glance at her bowl.  She licked her lips; her mouth was suddenly dry.  “Did you…” the young marine began, then blushed, turning away.

“What?” Emberglow asked quietly.  Gadget shook her head.

“What’s going to happen to you now?” the marine asked.  It was obviously not the question she’d been about to ask.  Emberglow considered quietly for a few moments.  Gadget needed reassurance, something positive to focus on, but Emberglow didn’t have any polite lies to give her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.  “Brightblade said he thought about having me shot.  He’s definitely going to recommend a court martial when we get back.”

“Nopony in camp would shoot you,” Gadget scoffed.  “We all saw you walk out there, all by yourself, just to bring back our own.”

“It was a dumb decision,” Emberglow said.  Gadget shrugged.

“Maybe so, Lady Emberglow.  But we all love you for it,” Gadget said.  “Did you… did you really go out there to see what happened to my dad?”

“Yes, and Delver.  I couldn’t…”  Emberglow fell silent as Gadget suddenly silenced her with a kiss.  Their lips met suddenly as Gadget surged forward.  Gadget’s lips were chapped and dry but sweet, so sweet as they moved against Emberglow’s.  She melted into the kiss, for just a second forgetting everything that was happening.  She let out a noise that may have been somewhere between a whimper and a moan.  Emberglow nearly reached out with her hooves to wrap around the other mare, but then there was nothing.  A panicked Gadget jerked away.

“I’m sorry!  Emberglow, I’m so sorry!  I didn’t…” she cut off with a strangled yelp, before dashing out the tent.  Emberglow was left staring dumbly at the tent flap, still waving gently from the movement of the mare’s escape.
> Chapter 20
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 20


Emberglow’s Dream Journal, Entry #13

I remember that night being one of the worst in my life so far.  I barely slept.  When I did, there were nightmares.

Of course there was worse to come, but I had no idea yet.

Things were so insane at the time that I didn’t even have time to make a journal entry, so this was penned down months after the fact.  So much has happened since then.  I hope it’s not cheating to make a journal entry about a dream that happened months ago.

Anyways, to the dream:  I don’t always see symbolism in my dreams, but this time it was pretty unsubtle.  I was chasing after a flame, a darting, dancing orange lick of fire that flitted about the dark clouds around me.  I wanted to grasp it, to catch it and hold its warmth close to my chest.

Finally I did, and it burned.  It was agony, but I held on. It was so warm, even if I felt my fur singing and flesh blistering.  It was killing me, but I didn’t want to let go.  

Finally I tried to release the flame, but I couldn’t.  I was stuck.  I began to scream, to roll around on the floor.  I could feel the fire in my bones.  It was then I started to hear the bells.

They always ring when She shows up in my dreams.

I felt Her wings first, and suddenly the flames cooled.  I felt like I’d been wrapped in a cool blanket of feathers.  It was like-

It feels silly to write like this, but it was as if my mother had been a pegasus, and wrapped me in her wings.  The pain went away immediately, as did the fear.

“Oh Emberglow,” Her voice cooed in the soft silvery light that suddenly shone from above me.  “It’s so close.  So soon.  But you’re strong enough.  You will make it through.”

That was all I got, before waking up again.  Soon enough, any comfort I felt was washed away by the anxiety of what had happened.

1112 AF, Ruins of Manehattan

“Lady Emberglow, wake up.  Sir Brightblade is looking for you,” Sea Star called to her from the mouth of her tent.  

Emberglow wasn’t asleep.  She hadn’t been able to fall asleep for more than a few minutes, really.  She wasn’t quite sure she would ever be able to sleep peacefully again.  

If that was kissing, she wanted more.  And she never wanted to do it again.  What was wrong with her?  

Whatever it was, she was sure she’d remember the feel of Gadget’s lips on hers for the rest of her life.

“I’m awake.  I’ll be there in a moment,” she replied, trying not to let the sound of her distress and turmoil seep into her voice.  Sea Star didn’t say anything further, so apparently it worked.

Emberglow tried to gather her spinning thoughts, twirling behind a fog of exhaustion.  Why did Brightblade need to see her?  Did he know?  

The thought sent a chill through Emberglow’s fur.  What would she do if he knew?  What if everypony knew?  Was this it?  Insubordination was one thing, but homosexual behavior?  She was sure that was over the line.  If he’d somehow found out what she’d done with Gadget, it would be a firing squad for sure.  Brightblade hated her enough not to wait for an official trial back in New Canterlot City.  

She could barely breathe as she did her best to tame her bedhead red mane back into some sort of rational shape.  Briefly she considered a braid, but eventually settled on her usual ponytail.  When she stepped out of her tent, the entire camp didn’t seem any more on edge than before she’d retired to her tent.  That was probably a good sign; she was sure if somepony had found out about her and Gadget it would have left the entire camp in a furor.  Emberglow didn’t see Gadget anywhere, though.  Hopefully the mare was getting some rest, though she doubted it.

The sense of fear, of anxiety, that had kept Emberglow up most of the night twisted into a cold, hard lump of pain in her stomach.  Every time she looked at another pony, she felt another stab of worry force itself deep into her gut.  A billion what ifs and maybes assailed her, trapping her mind in a spiral of guilt, worry, and hidden shame.  She felt like every single eye in camp was on her as she slunk into the command tent, trying to ignore the pain and nausea in her stomach.

The remaining Knights were gathered in the command tent.  A pair of lanterns provided a flickering light within the dark confines of the tent.  In the pale lantern light, all of the Knights appeared exhausted and drawn, though was a determined steel in Brightblade’s eyes.  

“We’re in a bad spot,” he began, addressing the other four.  Silverfeather nodded, and Gem looked fiercely defiant.  Joy simply stared.  The tension in Emberglow’s chest released just a hair; it didn’t seem like he knew yet.  “I’ve spent the last few hours trying to come up with a plan of action.  I wanted to get your input.”

Emberglow tried not to let her surprise show.  Up to this point, Brightblade had always acted mostly on his own, sometimes against the wishes of the rest of the team. He’d only ever sought Delver as an advisor.  

With a stab of grief, she realized why he must be now coming to all of them for advice.

“We’ve been outmaneuvered by the heretics and badly beaten.  They took our best from us, and I think they know it.  Our best chance for survival now is to take them by surprise.  Take the fight to them.  We need to find and destroy their mortar.”

The Knights stared silently at him, digesting the idea.  It was clear from Gem’s expression that she was in favor, but Silverfeather looked skeptical.  Emberglow listened silently.

“With their artillery, they can keep us pinned in this camp indefinitely.  As long as they’ve got that hanging over us, we can’t even consider exploring the ruins to look for the energy source.  We can’t complete our mission.  And they have all the time in the world to get to it before us.”

“Do we even know where to look for their camp?” Silverfeather asked.  Brightblade nodded to Joyful Noise, who looked proud.

“I’ve had Joyful Noise here switch her efforts from tracking our objective to tracking other sources of magic.  Of course there’s a few unicorns out there, and no motic seismograph is strong enough to detect simple magics from small sources.  But their artillery is magically powered, not mechanically.  Whatever they’re lobbing at us is powered by unicorn magic.  We can’t get an exact location, but they’re to our south east, about a half mile or so.”

“Could be a trap.  Some kind of a deception,” Silverfeather chimed in.  Brightblade opened his mouth to respond, but Joyful Noise’s quiet response cut him off.

“It is possible,” she said simply.  “My equipment only picks up magical emissions above a certain range.  A single unicorn, casting large-scale illusions or otherwise useless spells, could give off enough motic energy to be detected by my machinery.”

“So somepony needs to do a flyover to make sure,” Silverfeather said confidently.  “I’ll go.  No offense, Emberglow, but I’m a stronger flyer.”  Emberglow nodded her head.  Of course she wasn’t offended; it was a fact.

“You’ll have to get close.  There’s enough cloud coverage to block out most of the moonlight tonight.  That means as much magical protection as we can afford.” Brightblade said.  “Stealth spells, shielding spells, speed spells, the entire spread.  Joy, how are we on spell batteries?”

“Low.  Three full, plus whatever bits you all have left in yours,” Joyful Noise said.  “Spare batteries were in one of the crates that got shot down on the way in, and we’ve been using what did make it down to power the shield.  We can provide Silverfeather with some spells, but we’ll need to prioritize.”

“Chameleon spells,” Silverfeather stated.  “Silence spells too.  I’d rather not be seen than have extra layers of protection.”

“I need you leaving as soon as possible,” Brightblade said.  “We need to get rid of that artillery spot.”

“Yes, sir,” Silverfeather said fearlessly.  “I’m ready whenever you need me to be.”

Joyful Noise took a moment to determine the most useful combination of spells, and she, Gem, and Silverfeather all cast a quick combination of runes that would color her fur and armor the same as the darkened night clouds, make her wing flaps a silent as an owl’s, and increase her flight speed and endurance.  Emberglow watched, fascinated despite the circumstances.  She knew all the spells they were casting, of course, but she also knew that if she were the one casting, they would be far less effective.

After the spells were cast, Silverfeather wasted no time dashing out of the command tent and launching herself into the air.  As soon as she got moving, she was nearly impossible to see, a dark blur against the night sky.

“Lady Rainbow keep you safe,” Emberglow prayed, and the others around her nodded.  There was a collective flinch from all the ponies when yet another mortar round crashed into the shield, illuminating the night with the shields pink glow and the flash of white and yellow from the explosion.

“Did she get far enough away to be out of that blast?” Brightblade asked, and Emberglow nodded.

“She was moving pretty fast.  She should have been far outside the shrapnel radius,” Emberglow said.  The four remaining Knights, with nothing else to do, stood outside the command tent and waited.  

They’d only been standing outside for a few minutes when the sound of shots firing echoed in the distance, and Emberglow's heart sank.  First one, then four more rifle shots fired off in the direction Silverfeather had just flown in.

“There’s nothing we can do, is there?” Gem said softly.  Brightblade shook his head.

“I could…” Emberglow began, but Brightblade glared at her.

“Not worth the risk.  She’s probably fine, even if she did get spotted,” Brightblade declared.

Emberglow counted the seconds, waiting for Silverfeather to return.  She wasn’t all that close with the Adamant pegasus, but they were on friendly terms, and Emberglow didn’t think the camp’s morale could take many more Knight deaths.  She felt like things had been moving too quickly, too chaotically, for her to even have the time to sit down and properly mourn Bitterroot and Delver.

Emberglow jumped in surprise when Silverfeather suddenly appeared beside them.  The stealth spells were still in place, so she’d not even noticed Silverfeather’s approach.  Except for a small start, Brightblade seemed unphased. 

“I saw their artillery spot, but they spotted me.  Their lookouts were using some kind of spell, or something. I got near their camp, and they all started firing at me,” Silverfeather panted.  “They’re moving their camp.  If we’re going to take it out, we have to move quick.”

“Are you wounded?” Emberglow asked quickly.  Silverfeather shook her head.

“Nah, just a little winded,”

“Emberglow, Silverfeather, get in the air,” Brightblade ordered.  “Get behind their lines if you can, harry and delay them.  I’ll send you more pegasi as soon as I can.  We Earth ponies will assault directly.  Draw their fire if you can.  Saints protect you two.”

“Yes sir,” Silverfeather said without hesitation.  She turned to Emberglow, and dragged her rune gauntlet through the air.  “I’m giving you the same speed enhancement I’ve got.  You still won’t be as fast as me, but you’ll be able to keep up.”  Emberglow nodded her thanks as she felt the magic slip into her wing muscles and feathers.  Then, without any further delay, the two of them launched into the air, Emberglow trailing behind the other pegasus.

“You okay with all of this?” Silverfeather called back.  Emberglow shrugged.  She knew what the other mare meant.  They were going, practically alone, behind enemy lines, against an unknown number of heretic Knights and other creatures.  Brightblade very likely might have been ordering them to their deaths.

“We fight for the glory of the Saints,” Emberglow said back.  Silverfeather’s smile was grim.  Emberglow returned it, mustering her courage. If this was to be their last day, she wished to make it a significant one.  She beat her wings hard to try and keep up with the stronger flyer.

“Keep your eyes on the ground,” Silverfeather called.  “Watch for unicorn horns lit up.  Guns won’t bother us with our shield spells, but blasts of magic might.”

“Got it,” Emberglow said.  The ground below was a mass of dark green foliage, lit only by what bits of moonlight that was able to seep through the clouds.  Up ahead was a clearing in the tree coverage.  Emberglow couldn’t make out individual figures, but there was clear motion.  It seemed the heretics were using as little light as possible.  As they approached, however, shouts of alarm went up from the heretic camp, and the shots began.  Emberglow didn’t feel any of the telltale pings of bullets impacting her armor just yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time and probability.  She kept her eyes fixed on the camp, watching for the glow of a unicorn’s horn or the advancing beam of baleful magic.

“Land there,” Silverfeather pointed.  Emberglow couldn’t see what she was pointing at, but followed the other pegasus to the ground regardless. Once they landed, Silverfeather crouched down, lifting her gauntlet in preparation. “Cover me, I’m going to light up the camp.”  

Emberglow stepped up beside Silverfeather, holding her spear in front of both of them.  With a sudden flash, Silverfeather’s gauntlet glowed bright white in the night, and she began to draw runes in the air. 

Immediately, dozens of gunshots rang out, spattering against their protective armor.  Two earth ponies leaped out of the darkness, snarling as they charged for Emberglow and Silverfeather.  Emberglow smelled sweat and blood and gunpowder as she pushed her spear forward horizontally.  She connected with both earth ponies and shoved, hoping that neither one was a Knight.  It was enough to make the two of them stumble backwards, giving Silverfeather enough time to finish her spell.

Above them, at the height of about five ponies, a miniature sun appeared above the clearing that the camp was in.  It was about the size of a hoofball, and it glowed with bright yellow light, spilling shadows of ponies and equipment throughout the camp.  There were shouts of anger and panic as the heretics’ gazes were drawn away for a few precious seconds.  

One of the two earth ponies who’d tried to stop them glanced back at the light, and Emberglow used that moment of distraction to ram him with her spear.  He yelped and dodged at the last second, and her spear slid into his shoulder joint rather than delivering a lethal strike at his neck.  He fell back as his fellow struck Emberglow’s spear with a hoof, dislodging it from his friend’s flesh and knocking the point to the side.  He stepped over, putting himself between Emberglow and his wounded friend.

While she kept the two heretics at bay with the dancing, jerking motion of the tip of her spear, Emberglow took a second for a quick tactical analysis.  There were three tents, covered with camouflaging. In the center of the camp, there were two long-barreled mortars, pointed in the direction of the Knights’ camp.  Around the camp were a dozen ponies, including the griffon she had fought against alongside Delver.  Three of the ponies were armored, wearing the yellow armor of the Knights Discordant.  Two were unicorns.  There was no sign of the leader unicorn, the stallion with the mismatched eyes.  She could also see no signs of the younger unicorn, the one she had fought, or even of Gearsmith, who was supposedly captive.

“Oh dear,” Silverfeather said.  “We appear to be woefully outnumbered.”  She stepped up beside Emberglow with her spear at the ready.  The heretic Knights were advancing slowly, and the two unicorn Knights already had glowing horns.  Several of the ponies not wearing armor were clustering around the mortars.  One was already being disassembled by a frightened-looking unicorn stallion, his magic glowing as he levitated pieces into a crate for transport.

One of the unicorn Knights, a stallion, stepped forward and thrust his horn, glowing with bright green light, towards the night sky.  A solid ball of magic shot into the air, trailed by bright green sparks.  After a second it detonated, illuminating the sky with bits of green and blue flame.  Emberglow remembered the fireworks that had assaulted them while parachuting.  They must have come from this pony.  She felt a flash of anger as she remembered the pain and mayhem he had personally caused.  She made sure to mark him out specifically, noting the way his short blue mane stood out against the yellow of his armor and the black of his fur.  If she had the chance, she’d make sure he couldn’t hurt any other ponies with his fireworks.  The thought was uncharacteristically vicious, and she felt tainted for thinking it.

“And they’re signaling for reinforcements,” Silverfeather muttered.  “Back away into the woods.  We were only ordered to harry.” They began to back away just as the heretics began to circle around to their flanks, and the heretic Knights began to approach and engage. The unarmoured heretics were keeping their distance, occasionally thrusting with long spears while the unicorn Knights advanced.

The first blast of magic struck Emberglow’s peytral without warning, throwing Emberglow back towards the tree line.  She grunted as she hit the forest floor with a thud, and Silverfeather dashed over towards her.  The second whizzed just between them.  Silverfeather quickly pulled Emberglow to her feet, and the two of them backed away between the trees, keeping their distance from the heretics’ thrusting spears.  More bolts of magic smashed into the trees all around them.

“Stay close,” Silverfeather called out.  The two of them stood barrel to barrel, facing opposite directions, as they tried to keep the others from surrounding them.

“Regretting your poorly planned attack, little Knights?” the blue-maned heretic unicorn taunted.  “You’re outnumbered!  Fly away now, before you regret it!”  More bolts followed, slicing through wood and undergrowth alike.  Trees cracked and splintered as the two unicorn Knights fired blindly into the trees.  Shards of wood and burning leaves rained down on Emberglow and Silverfeather.

“Pincer attack!  Keep an eye on the western tree line!” Emberglow heard someone shout from inside the heretic camp.  She tried to listen, and heard more gunfire; their own allies must have reached the camp.  She was impressed; Brightblade had to have assembled a strike force in seconds.  

“You hear that?” Emberglow asked Silverfeather over the sounds of battle.

“Yeah.  Let’s take advantage,” Silverfeather called out. With the unicorns in the camp distracted by the fighting in the west, the heretic soldiers were now outmatched.  

Silverfeather fell into them with a quick spring of her hooves, and Emberglow followed close behind.  Silverfeather’s lunge carried her shoulder first into one of the soldiers, bowling him to the ground.  She followed up with a quick jab with her spear, spraying blood as she thrust into his barrel.  Another soldier tried to thrust towards her other side, but Emberglow was there, knocking the heretic’s spear away with the haft of her own, then following up with a kick to his chest.  He tumbled into a tree, and the two Knights continued on, staying parallel to the tree line.

“Can we regroup with Brightblade?” Emberglow asked.  They’d done their job by distracting the heretics long enough for the rest of their allies to engage, stopping the heretics from moving the camp.

“Good plan.  There’s only the griffon, if you can dodge unicorn bolts.”  There was no further warning as Silverfeather launched herself into the air, shoving past the small branches and leaves that made up the larger canopy.  Emberglow was hot on her tail, leaving the earth pony heretics on the ground looking stunned.

Above the trees, Emberglow could see that the battle was as fierce in the skies as it was on the ground.  The griffon that had probably killed Delver was dashing about, savagely attacking the few pegasus scouts who had joined the attack.  They were not faring well; several were already bleeding from claw wounds.  

“I’ll see to him, you get on the ground and connect with Brightblade,” Silverfeather said with a glance to Emberglow.  She nodded, scanning the warring forces on the ground and looking for Sir Brightblade.  She saw normal soldiers on both sides, most equipped with firearms, crouching or cowering behind cover as they exchanged volleys of deadly rain.  The sounds of rifle fire filled the clearing, and gunsmoke drifted up into the skies, clouding the air about them.  

The Knights on both sides were engaging each other.  Brightblade was exchanging blows with one of the unicorn knights.  The heretic wielded a sword, the hilt of the blade encased in a black glow.  It floated, point down, menacingly above his head and occasionally darted towards Brightblade, stabbing towards whatever narrow gaps in his armor it could hope to find.  Brightblade, meanwhile, was skillfully fending off the blade while keeping the unicorn off balance with his own spear thrusts.  

The heretic Knight’s attention was on Brightblade, not on the skies above him.  Emberglow spotted an opportunity, and dove down from above, her spear pointed towards the heretic’s flanks.  

“Blackward, behind you!” one of the heretic soldiers screamed, and the unicorn turned at the last second, spinning away from Emberglow’s spear thrust.  The point of her weapon ground into the dirt where the heretic had been standing just seconds before, and she yanked it up before coming to a landing on Brightblade’s right.

“Well done,” Brightblade said reluctantly, and Emberglow nodded.  “We can take him together.”  But it wasn’t to be.  The other unicorn Knight, the blue maned one with black fur, dashed up to join his friend.  He was also levitating a sword in his magic.

“That’s the one.  The black unicorn there.  He was the one casting fireworks at us while we were parachuting.  I think.” Emberglow whispered.  Brightblade nodded.  The two heretics advanced cautiously, their weapons flitting about in the air menacingly.  

“We have many lives to avenge,” Brightblade snarled.  “Split them up so they can’t help each other.  Gem will flank one of them as soon as she manages to destroy the mortars.”

“How should I…” Emberglow started to ask, before remembering the shoulder tackle maneuver that Silverfeather had just tried a few minutes ago.  She rammed into the black-furred unicorn who had been advancing towards her, shoving him to the side with her shoulder while his blade skittered off her armor.  Both ponies tumbled to the ground, towards the line of heretic soldiers.  The unicorn grunted, blasting at her with his horn even as he rushed to get on his hooves. She dodged too late to avoid the green light that slammed into her armor and reflected off, burning a line through the trees.  

She heard cries of alarm as the reflected beam hit some of the marines taking cover there.  Her eyes widened as she saw the splintered shards of wood rain down on the marines.  Emberglow jerked to her hooves, dancing back and away from the unicorn so she could put herself between him and the marines taking cover behind her.

“Lady Emberglow!” she heard a familiar voice call out from behind her.  It was Gadget.

“Everything all right, Gadget?” she called back, as the unicorn in front of her waved his sword this way and that, looking for an opening.

“Never better!” the mare called out.  “Any sign of my dad?”

“No.  I looked.  I’ll ask, though.  Heretic, where is the prisoner you took from our last fight?”

“I owe you nothing, sheep,” the unicorn snarled.  “He’s safe for now, and he’ll be returned when you leave Manehatten!”

The heretic punctuated his statement with a series of brutal, overhead slashes that Emberglow had to block with her spear.  Each slash pushed her further and further towards the marines.  She tried to keep an eye on whatever else was going on in the battlefield, but all her attention was absorbed with turning away the vicious blade that sought her life.  She stumbled when her rump backed into a large rock behind her, and the heretic grinned with triumph.  His sword came down hard on her spear, shoving it to the side and grinding the point into the dirt.  One armored hoof quickly stepped on the tip, trapping her weapon while his sword darted in towards her.

Something dark and fast slammed into the heretic from the side, knocking him away and freeing Emberglow’s spear.  It was Gadget.  She stood by Emberglow’s side, sparing the Knight a glance and a smile.

“Thanks,” Emberglow breathed, and before she could talk herself out of it, gave the marine a quick nuzzle.  “I wasn’t sure I could dodge in time.”

“No problem.  You’re…” Gadget trailed off.  Emberglow saw a flash of green light and looked up.  Several blades shot through the air, levitated by their unicorn foe.  Emberglow frantically began the runes for a shield spell she knew she wouldn’t have time to finish.  

“Look out!” Gadget shrieked, and shoved Emberglow at the last second.  Emberglow heard the impact of blades on flesh, and a low gargle, and then something warm was pouring on her, dripping over her face.  She blankly finished the spell, completing the runes and raising a shield above the two of them, a pale, smaller imitation of the one embracing their camp.  

Then, she gently shifted Gadget off from on top of her.

Gadget’s mouth, dripping blood, opened and a single rasp squeezed out. Then, silence. Two green eyes blinked once, twice, then froze, open.   Once sparkling as emeralds, they were now dull and lifeless as they stared up at the sky.  One of the long blades was lodged in her barrel.  A second had carved a gaping gash right across her throat.  

Emberglow stared, breathless, horrified, at the lifeless corpse she now held.  

Blood.  It was blood.  

Gadget’s blood, sprayed all over her armor, staining white red.  

It was dripping from her helmet into her eyes.  

It was in her mane.  

She tried to wipe it out of her eyes, but it was on her hoof.  She lowered the corpse to the ground, her eyes frozen on Gadget’s horrified, pained death stare. She felt her heart pumping faster, her ears ringing as her breath came out in gasps— 

Distantly, she heard the galloping of frenzied hooves. Her instincts screamed at her, and, numbly, she looked up. 

The heretic was charging, rushing back towards them.  He’d found a spear of his own and was bracing it in front of him as he charged towards Emberglow.  A beam of emerald light from his horn slammed against her shield, and she felt it slowly start to give under the onslaught.  

Shield spells had never been her forte; she could make them powerful, but was not the best at sustaining them long.  Still, she kept her shield up as the unicorn rapidly got closer.  One hoof tightened on her spear, still on the ground, and pulled it against the rock behind her.  She made sure it was loose and free of entanglements.  Distantly, her mind recalled a similar scenario from years ago, while training at the Ivy Seminary. She had watched Lofty Tale use this very same maneuver in a sparring match against their martial arts trainer, Lady Amaranth.  

An instant before the heretic slammed into the shield, Emberglow dropped it completely, jerking her spear up.  The heretic was unprepared, and the full momentum of the charging unicorn slammed into Emberglow’s spear, held steady by the rock.  The spear screeched against his armor for a split second before finding a seam between the heretic’s criniere and his peytral, plunging sickeningly into flesh.  

The heretic’s eyes went from fury to shock to pain in a flash, and he opened his mouth.  There was no cry of pain, only a thin trail of blood.  Emberglow looked down. Her spear was inserted past its blade, well into the unicorn’s lungs.  He coughed, blood spattering out of his open maw, and his legs collapsed out from under him as his spear clattered to the side.

  Emberglow caught the falling pony by instinct, sitting back on her rump as she held the heretic in her forehooves.  He looked up at the sky, his eyes darting around, searching for something.  They found Emberglow’s, delirious and glazing over.

“Mother?” the heretic called out, whimpering in fear.  “Mother, are you there?  Mother, please!”  Emberglow gaped at him in horror.  “Mother, is that you?”  He pawed at her weakly, and she numbly held his questing hoof.  “Mother, it hurts.  I’m afraid.  Please...”  His eyes finished glazing over, and his hoof slipped out of hers.  She felt dazed as she glanced up towards the battlefield.

Most of the heretics were gone.  Brightblade’s opponent had fled, and the last few retreating heretic soldiers were melting into the opposite tree line.  Their leader stood astride the battlefield, overseeing the retreat of his soldiers.  His eyes locked with Emberglow’s, then darted to the heretic she was cradling.  His mouth moved with words.  He was saying something to her, she realized, but she was far too far away to hear.  With that, he followed after his soldiers, disappearing into the trees.  Brightblade trotted over.

“You killed yours?  Good,” Brightblade said, eyeing the heretic with distaste.  Emberglow wanted to shriek at the way he seemed to ignore Gadget’s body.  She laid the heretic down on the ground and reached over, gently closing Gadget’s eyes.  Her insides felt cold.  

“We got one of the mortars.  They got away with the other.  Their reinforcements got here, so I’d like to get back to the shelter of the shield as quickly as possible.  Soldiers!  Gather up the wounded and dead and begin the retreat!”  He glanced at the bodies of the heretics as well, pointing at the unicorn corpse.  “Bring that, too.”

“What?  Why?” Emberglow spurted.

“Don’t question my orders, Knight,” Brightblade spat.  “Just do it.”  It made no sense to her.  She glanced from the unicorn body to the corpse lying next to

Don’t think about it.

“I’ll see to the wounded,” Emberglow said.  “Make sure everypony is able to retreat.”

“Mundane healing only.  We need to save as much magic as we can.”

“I’ll do my best, but I’m going to cast if I need to save a life,” Emberglow said.  She tried and failed to keep the challenge out of her voice.  Brightblade glared daggers at her, but said nothing.  Emberglow quickly summoned the marines with a loud shout.  It took only a few minutes to check them over; everypony was wounded, but nopony was wounded enough to require magical healing.  She applied a few bandages where they were needed, promising a more thorough healing back at camp.  There were only two dead marines, including

Don’t think about it don’t think about it.

“Knights of the Diarchy!” a spell-amplified voice hammered over the group.  Everypony cringed, some even dropping to the dirt.  “Don’t be afraid, nopony is going to attack just yet.”  It was the same creature as before, the one with the mismatched eyes.  Emberglow recognized his voice.  “Is your leader listening?  The white earth pony with silver hair and purple armor.”

“I’m here, heretic,” Brightblade shouted, not bothering to amplify his voice.  He had been picking through the remains of the mortar that Gem had managed to destroy while Emberglow had been distracted with the unicorn and

Don’t think about it!

“We left in a bit of a hurry, and unfortunately failed to collect the remains of one of our fallen,” the voice boomed back.  “I was hoping, since we extended you the courtesy before, you would be so kind as to bring the remains of our friend to the eastern edge of the tree line so we may see him back to his family.”

“Denied, heretic,” Brightblade shouted, then went back to what he was doing.

“You can’t be serious,” somepony shrieked at Brightblade.  “You’re making no sense.”  Somepony was standing up to Brightblade.  Everypony was staring at Emberglow.  She had shouted the words.  She felt a sinking sensation as Brightblade rounded on her.

“Go ahead, faithless traitor. Reveal your true stripes.”

“Say what you will,” Emberglow muttered.  “They were true when they let us collect our own fallen.  We owe them…”

“We owe them nothing!” Brightblade screamed back at her.  Tensely the two stared at each other, then Emberglow felt her rage and confusion swept away by a wave of cold, numb tiredness.  Silently, she turned, and trotted back to where the heretic corpse was cooling.  “Emberglow, get back here!  Don’t you dare!”  This would destroy morale.  This would break the chain of command.  

She had a hard time caring anymore.  The heretic lay, still on the ground next to

Don’t think about it don’t think about it DON’T THINK ABOUT IT ABOUT HER!

Wordlessly she lifted the body onto her back and began trotting to the eastern edge of the clearing.  Brightblade was vibrating with fury.

“I want to keep it,” he muttered, his voice biting.  Emberglow shook her head.  “At least cut off the horn before you return the corpse.”

“I don’t know why, and I don’t care.  I will not consent to violating the remains of a pony, even a unicorn.  It’s cruel and unnecessary, and violates my oaths as a healer.”

“What about your oaths as a Knight?” Brightblade spat back.  “Your oath to obey?”

“You’ll have to take that up with the Council of Five, or with my court martial inquiry when we get back, if anypony survives this.”  Emberglow wasn’t sure anypony would.  She pushed past him, trotting to the eastern edge the heretic had mentioned.  She looked into the tree line, spotting the glinting eyes of a predator.  The griffon was there, hiding among the foliage.  He nodded to Emberglow as she approached, and the heretic leader, the one with the mismatched eyes, stepped out of the tree line.  Without a word, he trotted over to where Emberglow waited.

The heretic looked down at the dead unicorn, his eyes brimming with regret and pity.  He nodded silently at Emberglow, and this time his look was one of grudging respect.  Hefting the body, he returned to the treeline.

“Your honor is noted, Knights of the Diarchy,” the booming voice called out.  “Take time to make peace with your Saints.  Our attack will resume the moment you leave to return to your camp.”

Once again, Emberglow was the focus of all attention.  Silverfeather nodded her approval.  Gem eyed her silently.  Emberglow refused to meet Brightblade’s eyes, instead arranging for marines who could carry the casualties back to camp.

“We will retreat immediately.  Gem, Silverfeather, take the van.  Emberglow and I will form the rearguard,” Brightblade ordered.  His voice was oddly calm, but then he glanced at Emberglow, and she swore she felt the seething rage beaming from his eyes.  “Maybe you’ll have the decency to die and save us all the expense of an insubordination court martial when we get back home.”  There were murmurs around the marines and Knights, but Brightblade continued.  “I assume the heretic will keep his word and attack.  Be ready.  Set out!”  Emberglow did as he said, retrieving her bloody spear from where she’d abandoned it.

The heretic leader was indeed true to his word.  A contingent of soldiers ambushed them as soon as they set off into the woods.  Emberglow and Brightblade weren’t even out of the clearing before they were set upon by the heretic leader himself.  His mismatched eyes burned with anger as he suddenly appeared between the two of them with a pop of teleportation.  A kick of one hoof shoved Emberglow to the side, and the heretic lunged at Brightblade, his spear clashing against Brightblade’s.

“Keep moving!” Brightblade shouted.  The marines turned and began a fighting retreat, moving slowly backwards as they tried to take cover from the bullets spattering among them.

“This doesn’t have to be this way, you know,” the brown furred heretic muttered at Brightblade as the hafts of their spears ground against each other.  His face was inches from Brightblade’s.

“’Beware the heretic’s bite; his teeth are hidden behind a sweet smile, but drip with lies and venom,’” Brightblade quoted with a snarl, and the heretic laughed.

“You know, Twilight never said that.  I don’t even think she ever uttered the word ‘heretic’ in her entire life,” the heretic tittered as he shoved Brightblade.  The Knight Mystic stumbled backwards with the sheer force of the blow, and Emberglow watched in horror as the unicorn heretic’s horn lit up, glowing yellow.  

He didn’t levitate anything, only summoned a glowing orb of hard force right behind Brightblade’s hooves.  A stumble turned into a trip, and Brightblade fell onto his rump.  A hard swing of the heretic’s spear knocked Brightblade’s weapon aside.  Emberglow leapt to action, diving at the heretic with her own weapon.  She was just a hair too slow; the heretic managed to score a deep hit on one of Brightblade’s thighs before he had to dodge Emberglow’s thrust.  He danced backwards just enough for her to get between the two of them.  The unicorn darted at her like a snake, though he was clearly trying to get to Brightblade behind her.  

He was so much faster than she was.  Emberglow was barely able to fend off the thrusts of his spear while Brightblade stumbled to his hooves and retrieved his own weapon.  She somehow managed to keep herself between the two stallions, shifting with her back hooves

“Your comrade’s loyalty does you credit, Mystic.  But if I kill you, something tells me your minions will retreat.  So do me a favor and just die, okay?” the heretic snarled.  His magic levitated a trio of large rocks, each one the size of a pony’s head, and fired them at Brightblade.  Emberglow did her best to put herself between the missiles and Brightblade; the first struck her armor with enough force to leave bruises and bounced away, and the second missed.  The third zipped past her, and she shouted with alarm, stretching her wing out.  It caught the stone and deflected it, but wrenched the limb backwards at an unnatural angle.  Emberglow cried out in pain, and glanced back at Brightblade, who had a surprised expression plastered on his face.

“Run, sir,” Emberglow hissed through the pain.  “I won’t let this heretic through.”

Finally, something in her voice convinced Brightblade of her integrity.  He nodded and limped away, and when the heretic tried to follow Emberglow stood squarely in front of him, her spear at the ready.

“I could just teleport past you, you know,” he challenged, and Emberglow shook her head.

“You’re nearly as exhausted as we are,” she muttered.  “Either your spell fails, or it takes so much out of you that you can’t fight afterwards.”

“Oh, so you know a bit about a unicorn's magical reserves.  Cute.  But I think I’ll risk it,” he said.

“You’re risking a misfire, heretic.  Especially in a place as magically irradiated as Manehatten, even a single miscast could result in…”

The heretic grinned wickedly as he lit his horn, the yellow glow surrounding the appendage as he charged a spell.  Suddenly his face twisted in strain, then in shock, and Emberglow barely had time to cover her eyes before the explosion blasted her into unconsciousness.  The last sensation she felt was of falling, air flowing past her fur and wings as she tumbled into darkness.
> Interlude: The Voice of Living Stone
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: The Voice of Living Stone


Dear Diary,

Ugh, that’s atrocious.  Do ponies really begin journal entries this way?  It feels so ugly.  Why would I address my personal writings to a diary, of all things?  They’re mindless, senseless, inanimate objects.  Let’s try this again.

My dearest Fluttershy,

Is it any stranger to be addressing my journal to a pony who’s been dead for almost seven hundred years?  I don’t think so.  I’ll dedicate this journal to you, Fluttershy.  You’re the reason for who I am now, and the pony I intend to become.  So where to begin?  How about recent history?

The first thing I noticed when I ‘woke up’ was how much time had passed.  My first turn as a statue lasted a millennia, and my second a couple of years.  I could instantly tell that this one was different.  I wasn’t nearly as aware, in my sleeping state, as I had been before.  The trip through time left me weakened.  I am not the creature I was before; not even a tenth part of my power remains.  That means no more chocolate rain or cotton candy clouds (sorry Pinkie!).  No more detaching limbs, no more summoning humorous props ex nihilo.  Not that I feel very humorous these days.

The world is a nightmare.  Equestria is a disgusting mockery of what it was before; full of hate and fear.  They call it the ‘Holy Equestrian Diarchy’. I know that things have a way of changing over the passing of time, but this is ridiculous.

There is a religion now.  A cult.  They’ve twisted everything you all ever did into a dogma of hatred and fear.  And you and the others are worshiped as Saints.  I wish I were making this up. They’ve changed every part of your stories that doesn’t conform to their narrative. 

You remember the problems Princess Twilight was having in Canterlot, after Rarity disappeared?  It looks like those political ignoramuses really went nuts with their ideas.  All their talk about ‘unicorns are dangerous’ and ‘unrestricted magic is a threat’ have become full blown religious imperatives.  They hate unicorns, and chop off their horns when somepony is born as one.  They’re told the unicorns go to ‘relocation colonies’ to live out their lives in peace separate and safe from the rest of the population.  It makes me sick.

But it’s not just unicorns.  Once they got the population terrified of the magical threat of the unicorns, they could control all sorts of things.  They hate everypony who’s even a little bit different.  They hate ponies who don’t think the way they want, they hate ponies who don’t read what they want, who don’t believe what they want, and even who don’t love the way they want.  Any number of imaginary offenses, from ‘blaspheming the Diarchs’ (that’s Celestia and Luna, though it’s illegal to say their names out loud) to ‘public nudity’ (everypony wears clothing now all the time.  Weird.) to ‘sexual deviancy’ (that’s anything sexy happening outside of a heterosexual marriage) is punished with public humiliation, banishment, beatings, or even execution.  

And the worst part of it is, they commit all of these atrocities in your names.

And I can’t even say I’m entirely blameless.  If Twilight Sparkle were still around, maybe none of this would have happened.  And it’s my fault she’s not around any longer.

I’m so sorry.

I’ve taken the form of a pony.  It’s one of the last things I could do with my magic.  I’m a unicorn now, and I will be for the foreseeable future.  I don’t know if I’ll ever regain my old draconequus form, and even if I did, I don’t think I could ever be trusted with that much power again.  Not after what I did.

But I’m a completely different creature now.  Sadder, more serious, more introspective, I guess.  But the spark of Chaos is still there.  And I’m going to bring it to Equestria.  I’m no hero, and I’m not saving the world.  I’m going to make the Diarchy burn for what they’ve done in your name.  Maybe, just maybe, real heroes will come along again and rebuild in the ashes I’ll leave behind.  I’ll be happy to help them.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m never going to play the villain again.  I’ve learned my lesson.  But I’m too guilty in all of this to ever be the hero that saves the day.  I’ll do what I can to make them hurt, but leave it to others to rebuild.

I don’t know how to end this entry without using the damned Diarchy’s system for dates.  Everything is based off of the supposed date of their founding, but even that is a lie, manipulated history from the date of Twilight’s ascension.  The year is 693 After Founding.  That is six hundred and ninety three years after Twilight became a princess.

I am so tired.

Journal entry dated 693 AF.
> Chapter 21
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 21


Letter sent from disgraced former Knight Lieutenant Lofty Tale to Knight Private Emberglow.  Contents passed censor, deemed non-concerning.

	My dearest friend,

I have no idea how to begin this letter.  I have sat down at my writing desk time and time again, put pen to paper, only to discard and begin anew each time.  A dozen times I have begun, and a dozen pieces of torn, crumpled paper lie in the wastebasket next to me.  Ah well.  I shall endeavor to proceed, if only to be able to write at least some shred of news before rumor and her ever-speedy wings reach you first.

I have been cast out of the Knights Vigilant.  It happened by my own choice, a result of my own misdeeds.  And yet, given where my path has led me, I cannot say I regret what occurred, nor would I change any choice that I made.

When we were both squires, I made the acquaintance of a young mare of apparent grace and beauty.  I am perhaps ashamed to admit to you that we were indiscrete together.  I thought it the folly of youth, and when she professed a lack of interest in pursuing any relationship I put the whole thing out of my mind.

Just over a year after our final meeting, and after I had sworn my vows as a Knight Vigilant, she arrived at my doorstep with a foal.  Our foal.  She expressed no interest in rearing a foal, and instead demanded that I take charge of the young colt.

I will not waste your time decrying the selfishness and hypocrisy of my former mate.  I know the colt to be mine, and when I first saw him, I was filled with love more profound than anything I have ever felt.  His form is so small and fragile, and his eyes, the most gorgeous shade of sapphire, are full of such trust and hope.  He shares my same fur and mane color, only reversed, with an indigo mane and white fur.  

I brought these matters to the attention of my superiors in the Vigilant.  I was told I had two choices: to give the foal up to another to raise, and forget my son, born of unwise love.  Or to give up my Knighthood, to live in shame and disgrace.  For a short time, I gave the child over to a nursemaid while I studied the scriptures of Saint Applejack.  She was ever one to teach the importance of family, and the value of ties both of blood and affection.  

In the end, I chose family over honor.

My grandfather has all but disowned me.  I have returned, at his demand, to live in the Tale family manor outside of New Canterlot City, though he barely even acknowledges my existence.  I do not care, however, as he seems just as enamored with my young son as I am.  Let Grandfather Righteous hate me all he wishes; as long as he continues to shower affection on my son, I am content.  Perhaps, in time, he may forgive me.  

To be completely candid, I don’t care if he ever does or not.  The only family I feel the need to impress now is my son.  I have named him True Tale, to honor Saint Applejack even as I have dishonored her with my actions.

I pray that you will do us the honor of becoming True’s goddess-mother, though I understand if you decline.  Please keep yourself safe; I am hungry for words of your more recent adventures.

Write soon,

Lofty Tale

1112 AF, Manehattan Caves

Emberglow’s head ached.  That was the first thing that told her she was awake; she never had headaches in her dreams.  

Actually, all of her body hurt; she was afraid to even open her eyes to see what the damage was.  The worst pain was her head, of course, but her left wing was also aching badly.  She could feel the pain of each twisted, bent feather.  She was still wearing her armor, she realized after a moment; the enchanted metal plates dug awkwardly into her flesh, leaving her with sore muscles and chafing skin.  Her mouth was dry.  Idly, she wondered how long she had been unconscious.  

She took a deep breath to try to clear her woozy head, and instantly regretted it, coughing with disgust and surprise.  The stench was a melange of foulness; she could smell swampy, musty rot, stale stilted air, pony sweat, and blood.  She could still smell blood.  She hoped it wasn’t her blood, but in her heart she knew whose blood covered her armor.

Gadget… 

Emberglow’s eyes shot open before the image of the dead mare could appear in her mind’s eye.  

The chamber she was in was dark, nearly so dark she couldn’t see.  The only source of light was a sparse growth of fungus on one of the walls, which was glowing faintly.  She could hear the sounds of drips of water hitting a larger body; each drip a few seconds apart.  The stones closest to her were broken, some shattered recently, and some broken ages ago, covered in limestone stalagmites and moss.  She could see light coming from somewhere around a bend much further away from her; the light was moving around, bouncing in the darkness and reflecting off the glossy wet stalactites dripping down about a foot or two from the rough, uneven ceiling.  She could see what the ceiling used to be; broken, cracking masonry, a dull gray color.  Clearly she was not in a natural cave, but it didn’t look like anybody had lived here for centuries.  

The cavern looked like it had been much larger at one point, but most of it had crumbled and caved in.  The room she was in was not huge, maybe three pony lengths across and five wide, with a single exit that curved around a wall of shattered, rectangular masonry bricks.  She saw a large metal door poking out from a pile of bricks; the stalagmites that had built up around it suggested it had been here on the floor for hundreds, maybe thousands of years.  A metal plate on the door labeled the room she was in as ‘MAINTE…” before being cut off by brick and stone; probably a maintenance closet or something like it.  

Emberglow tried to see where the light up ahead was coming from, but it was blocked from her view by a twist in the cavern.  She struggled for a moment, ignoring the raspy pain of thirst in her throat as she tried to rise to her hooves.  Her wings flexed involuntarily as she struggled to her hooves, and she hissed with pain as the muscles in her left wing protested the movement.  As she tried to relax her wing, she felt something on it, and looked back. There was a rough splint tied to the appendage with a few torn bandages.  She didn’t recognize the handiwork or the knots; whoever had done the first aid had meant well, but the trained doctor within her winced at the untrained efforts.

Despite someone having apparently treated her wing already, she still would have to cast a diagnosis spell to figure out the real damage. With a bump of her left hoof, she triggered the release that opened the canister of her rune gauntlet, pushing the battery out so she could check the charge.  

All three green gems were dull and lifeless, and the yellow gem as well.  The red glowed very slightly, much like her namesake, like a dying, flickering ember in this dark cave.  Still, it would be enough for a full body diagnosis spell, if barely.  She quickly replaced the spell battery in its slot and traced the runes in the air in front of her.

Emberglow’s spell let her see every single break, every single injury that her eyes could rest on.  This meant she couldn’t check on any head injuries, but she could look back at her wing.  There were plenty of broken feathers, but the bone itself was intact (thank the Diarchs!).  The sprain was fairly bad, and she figured it would be at best a few days, maybe even weeks, before she was flying at her full speed again.  She looked at her other injuries.  Minor nicks and bruises from the fight with the Knights Discordant from before, nothing too severe.  There was a lot of blood on her armor though…

Don’t think about the blood don’t think about whose blood her blood her blood oh no Gadget please no…

Emberglow choked back a desperate sob as her concentration failed and the spell faded, the motes of magic twinkling in the darkness as they dissipated.  The last bit of the glow from her spell battery was surely gone by now, so Emberglow didn’t bother to look.  

Breathing deeply and purposefully, she took a moment to stretch each of her legs, one at a time, checking the normal way for other sprains or strains.  While stiff, none of her legs were injured.  She closed her eyes, taking a calming breath, before letting her emergency training take over.  The first thing she needed to check was her equipment. Her armor.

In the darkness, she could pretend that the red splotches covering her otherwise white armor were merely paint, or maybe mud.  There was mud on the floor, right?  She checked around with one hoof; indeed there was mud.  With her heart rate going down somewhat, she inspected each joint and plate by hoof, making sure nothing was damaged.  The canister for her spell battery was clearly intact, as was the rune quill built into her right hoof.  The smaller spell battery powering the armor’s wing shields, located at her back between her wings, was bent; she tried to reach back with her (mostly) uninjured right wing to trigger the release, but the battery was jammed inside.  She tried to activate her wing shield; nothing happened.  She tried not to be too disappointed; it was not like she would be doing any aerial maneuvers anytime soon anyways.  

Her saddlebags were still attached to the outside of her armor, and a quick, cursory rummage through them showed that while most of the contents had been jostled about, there wasn’t much damage.  She was a little surprised that whoever had treated her wing hadn’t bothered to look inside her bag; she had much better bandages there than whatever cloth her secret doctor had made her bandages from.

Emberglow froze suddenly as a voice echoed off the cavern walls.  Outside of the room she was in, the faint light source continued to shift and bob, but it was now accompanied by singing.  Bad singing.  The words he was singing were complete nonsense, something about a ‘winter wrap up’ that made no sense, but she recognized the voice.  Even with the distortions of the cave, the echoing walls, she could hear the strangely theatrical tones of the heretic with the mismatched eyes.  

Adrenaline shot through her, and she forced her body into motion.  She looked around her for a weapon; she couldn’t see her spear, and there was nothing else in the room except rocks, moss, bricks, and one incredibly frightened Knight.  Oh well; her hooves would work well enough if she could get the drop on him.

“You awake yet, Sister?” the heretic called out, stopping his song as he got closer.  Emberglow said nothing, trying to be as silent as possible as she moved around the moss-overgrown pile of rubble that served as a wall next to the door into the room.  “I must say, I don’t do the nursemaid thing very well.  That might be more your thing.”  Emberglow tried to hold back her shock.  The heretic had tried to tend to her wounded wing?  The unicorn heretic? 

She winced as she knocked a few loose stones or bricks about in her attempt to get ready to ambush the monster. She was trying to gain just a little bit of a height advantage by climbing on top of one of the larger piles of bricks. He seemed to be unaware of her presence, continuing to babble his mouth off. 

“But what do I know?”  The Knight Discordant had moved around the corner; his horn was lit, glowing with a yellow light.  She saw a brown burlap sack, surrounded in a yellow glow, floating in the air next to him.  It was full of something.  “Maybe you’re the one Knight Radiant that doesn’t get all aflutter over the chance to tend to some wounded creature.  Maybe it’s different if you’re wounded yourself… hey!”

As soon as he saw she wasn’t where he’d left her, he spun, just a little too slow.   She pounced down upon the unsuspecting unicorn, her armored front hooves extended towards his head.  Though the heretic looked shocked, he made no move to dodge.  

Her hooves impacted something hard, but then were suddenly shunted away, a flash of yellow light appearing in a spherical shield around the heretic.  The yellow shield spell pulsed when she struck it, and she bounced away. She flapped her wings by instinct to try and gain her bearings in midair before tumbling to the stone floor with a gasp of pain, landing hard on her side.

“You know what’s wrong with your generation?  No gratitude,” the heretic knight said casually, making his voice sound like an old grandpa pony.  He tittered at his own joke.  “I go to all this trouble to patch up your wing and make sure the cave monsters don’t nibble on your supple ponybird flesh, and you decide to jump on me.  No gratitude at all.”

“You’re speaking nonsense,” Emberglow rasped back, her dry throat burning with the words.  “We’re enemies.  Why would I be grateful to you?”  She rose unsteadily to her hooves, trying desperately not to shake with soreness and weariness as she did so.

“For saving your life, maybe?  I’m not kidding about cave monsters.  I’m sure there’s hundreds of them waiting, right in the shadows, for the merest chance to chew on you.”  The heretic laughed again, a grating hoot that immediately got on Emberglow’s nerves.  She stared at him, a hundred questions rushing through her dazed, aching brain.  She felt dizzy.  

“Why?” Emberglow asked.

“How should I know?  I’ve never tasted you.  I’m sure you’re delicious, but…”

“Not what I meant!” Emberglow snapped.  The heretic giggled, waving a hoof at her.

“Relax, Sister, I…”

“Don’t call me sister!  We’re not… I mean, you’re not…” She wasn’t being very coherent, she realized.  Probably a concussion, her inner doctor noted.  The heretic waved a hoof again, in a placating gesture.

“Calm down.  I was just kidding.  I know what you meant.”  The heretic sighed, some of the mirth leaving his voice.  “Honestly?  I don’t know much about the Caves, but from what I’ve heard, we could be stuck down here for days.  And I might have been exaggerating a bit about the creepy crawlies down here, but there are creatures that live here.  And they may or may not have a taste for pony flesh.”

“You’re proposing a truce?” Emberglow asked incredulously.

“Why not?” the unicorn shot back.  “We’re much more likely to find a way out of the Caves if we at least aren’t trying to kill each other.  And I for one don’t wanna die by starvation or exposure or some other such indignity,” he practically spat the last word.  “At the very least, let’s agree not to fight each other.”

“How do I know it’s not a trick?  Get me to drop my defenses so you can ambush me?”

“Oh please,” the unicorn said, his voice dripping with contempt.  “Oh no, you’ve stumbled upon my master plan.  Step one; bandage and clean your wounds to the best of my ability.  Step two; find food and water for the both of us, offer it to you for free.  Step three; murder you after having gone to all the trouble of keeping you alive.  C’mon, Sis… ahem… uh, whatsyername, you look smarter than that.”  

“Maybe you want something other than to kill me,” Emberglow argued back.  “Heretics are vicious brutes.  You could be out to… to take advantage of me!”

“You… I… but…” the heretic sputtered, laughing.  “You think what?  You’re incredible.  First of all, you’re cute, but I don’t go for girls in armor.  Not my thing.  Secondly, I’m involved in a stable, long term monogamous relationship, and I’m only interested in consensual sex.  And despite my numerous hints in that direction, my partner seems completely uninterested in bedroom shenanigans involving three or more players.” She flinched at his casual sexual references, and he rolled his eyes.  “By all the alicorns, are you really that repressed?  Hunger and thirst must be making you loopy.”

  For a second, she wondered what an ‘alicorn’ was that he had sworn by.  Perhaps some sort of made-up heretic nonsense?

His horn ignited with its yellow glow again, gathering up his sack from where it had fallen when she tried and failed to tackle him.  He levitated the sack over to her, depositing it silently at her feet.

He made sense, she realized as she opened the sack carefully with her hoof.  She really wasn’t thinking quite straight.  Inside the sack was a canteen, sloshing with liquid when she nudged it.  There were also about a dozen fungi.

“Those are safe,” the unicorn said, his voice losing the sarcasm.  “The water came from an underground stream, not one of the fetid pools that gather around here.  Moving water, fed from beneath us somewhere.  The mushrooms are safe to eat.  Or at least, I hope, if I identified them right.  If not, I’m gonna have a bad night.  I don’t suppose you have a remedy for extreme gastrointestinal distress in that doctor bag of yours?” Emberglow stared at him, uncomprehending.  His shifts in subject matter were a little too quick for her sleepy, injured brain to keep up with.  

“No matter,” he continued with barely a pause, lifting one of the mushrooms with his magic and floating it over to his mouth.  She flinched back from his blatant use of forbidden magic, but he didn’t react.  “They don’t taste like much,” he mumbled through a full mouth, chewing on the fungus.  “But they’re food.  Eat.  Drink.  I promise I didn’t poison anything.”

Warily, she looked at the canteen.  It looked like standard Diarchy Army issue, probably stolen in a raid of some kind.   The army’s decal had been scraped off the canteen with a knife, leaving small gouges in the metal surface of the canteen.  She slowly pulled the cap off the canteen, gently inhaling at the opening, smelling the liquid inside.

“Oh for Celestia’s sake, would you get on with it?  You’re boring me to tears,” the heretic moaned.

“I’ll thank you not to blaspheme in my presence,” she said primly.  He groaned.  “If there is going to be a truce, you can at least try to be civil.”  He rolled his eyes, but said nothing.  Sensing and smelling nothing amiss in the water, she raised the canteen and trickled the first bit into her mouth.

The small splash of water that she allowed to slip onto her tongue was nearly icy, and it felt like heaven.  Emberglow forced herself to be patient, rolling the mouthful of water around, wetting her tongue, cheeks, and the roof of her mouth before finally letting it slip down her parched throat.  She didn’t know how long she’d been out, but she didn’t want to guzzle the liquid down and make herself sick.  The heretic appeared to be waiting patiently, though one of his front hooves was tapping against the stone floor of the room.  Slowly, carefully, she drank the water in tiny sips.

“I’ll agree to a truce,” Emberglow said cautiously after she finished drinking.  “With some conditions.”

“Number one.  No blasphemy?” he asked snarkily.  She nodded, ignoring his attitude.

“More importantly, what happens when we get out of the Caves?” she asked.  “Do we go back to trying to kill each other?”

“I’d say we separate.  You go one way, I go the other.  We don’t look back and pretend this never happened.”

“That easy?” Emberglow narrowed her eyes suspiciously.  She couldn’t believe she was actually considering this.  Better to die, her old instructors and mentors would say, than to make even a temporary truce with evil.  But she remembered the way he’d waited behind, while his comrade had died in her arms.  She remembered the look in his eyes, when she’d brought his comrade’s body back. She remembered the gentleness in the heretic’s own eyes when he had lifted his friend out of her hooves, carrying him away into the trees.  Nobody could act that well.

“That easy.  I’m willing to extend you a little trust,” he said, seriously, and with a start, she realized he must be as worried about her ambushing him as she was worried about him attacking her.  Emberglow decided to show a little trust herself.  She lifted up one of the mushrooms, putting it on her tongue for a moment before chewing.  

It was one of the most flavorless things she’d ever tasted.  She wondered how much nutritional value a tasteless cave fungus could really have.  Oh well.  If things became truly desperate, she was sure there was some other sort of plant life in this cave she and her erstwhile ally could stomach.  

“See?  Nopony’s dead yet.  No weird hallucinations, either.  I hope.  You’re still there, right?” the unicorn asked, peering intently at her face.

“While many fungi are known to have hallucinogenic or psychotropic effects, no species I’ve encountered takes effect that quickly.  It will likely be several minutes before we feel significant psychotropic effects, if any at all,” Emberglow said flatly.  The heretic grinned.

“You have a lecture voice, too?  Heh, you sound just like…” he cleared his throat.  “Never mind.  So, let’s come up with a plan for exploring this place and finding an exit.  First off, how are you feeling?”

“Sore.  Injured.  Thank you for trying to splint my wing, by the way.”

“Trying?” the heretic asked, sounding offended.

“You did your best, I’m sure,” Emberglow said.  “I’ll let you redo it, and give you some pointers if you like.” She knew he’d go on to use that knowledge to help her enemies, but for now, she couldn’t really immobilize her own wing.  “Also, I don’t know what to call you.”

“Oh my!” the unicorn exclaimed.  “Just a few hours in a dark cave, and already I’m acting like a savage cave pony.  Where are my manners?”  His voice became quite dramatic again, reminding her of a circus ringleader at a performance her parents had once taken her to as a filly.  The heretic extended a hoof with a flourish and a small bow.  “My name is Heartwing, of the Knights Discordant.”  He said it simply, with no rank or further title.  She wondered what that meant.

“I am Knight Private Emberglow, of the Knights Radiant,” she said.  She knew it would be a bit rude, but she didn’t bother to shake his hoof.  This wasn’t that kind of introduction.  “Now, a plan?” she reminded him.  He pouted a bit as he withdrew his hoof. The childish expression looked strange on his face, but he otherwise said nothing about her snub.

“Ah, yes.  Well, I don’t recognize where we are, but I know of at least two entrances to the Caves situated about four or five miles to the west from where we were above ground, before my… hrm… somewhat ill-fated teleportation malfunction.  I can keep us moving in the right direction with some simple pathfinding spells, and we can work together to forage for food and fight off any unwanted animal attention.”

“What should we expect?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” Heartwing said cheerfully.  “Ever since the city was destroyed after the Siege of Manehatten, there have been all sorts of magically enhanced and mutated creatures wandering around town.  I’ve heard that many of them take to the Caves to hide, to hunt, and to make their homes.”

“Ever since you ponies destroyed the city, you mean,” Emberglow corrected.

“You ponies?  Whatever do you mean by that?” Heartwing said innocently.  She scowled at him.

“You know what I mean.  Unicorns.  You did this.  You destroyed Manehatten, and now you have to suffer from the consequences of your ancestor’s irresponsibility.”

“Oh my,” Heartwing said with a shocked look, casually picking up another mushroom.  He began chewing on the fungus, speaking while chewing.  “I’m being held responsible for a war that took place seven hundred years ago.  I feel so chastised.  I’ll have you know, missy, that I wasn’t even there.  Completely absent from that fight.”

“Well, yes,” Emberglow sighed, growing annoyed at his obtuseness.  “But your kind still bears responsibility…”

“I wouldn’t talk about responsibility for past actions, if I were you,” Heartwing snarled, his voice lowering dangerously, and she cringed away from his sudden mood swing.  His grey tail began to lash back and forth angrily as he glared at her.  “You’re an ignorant little filly, and you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Prove me wrong, then,” she huffed back challengingly.  “Are you going to deny that unicorns destroyed Manehatten?  Destroyed all of Equestria?  We’re still recovering, centuries later!”  

Heartwing opened his mouth to argue back, then closed it with a sigh.

“There’s no point,” he said, his voice resigned as his ears flattened.  “Tell me, if we did have ourselves a little religious debate, would you be open to anything at all I had to say?”

The first thing that popped into Emberglow’s head was a scripture.  ‘Beware the heretic’s bite; his teeth are hidden behind a sweet smile, but drip with lies and venom.’  A personal favorite of Sir Steadfast’s.  There was another: ‘Let not yourself be led adrift by every current, but hold fast to the rudder and steer your own ship’.

“There’s nothing you could say that would sway me,” she said.  Heartwing nodded.  “Is that why you proposed the truce?  For a chance to corrupt me?”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Heartwing said.

“Horseapples.  You’re just boasting.  Knights are stronger than that.”

“Is that what they’re telling young Knights these days, hmm?  Interesting.”

“I’m not listening to this,” Emberglow said, standing.  Her stomach growled, but she refused to share a meal, even a scant one of mushrooms, with a liar.  “Let’s start scouting for a way out.”

“Just tell me one thing, then I’ll leave it alone,” the heretic said, his voice earnest.  He waited for her reluctant nod.  “Be honest.  If you were wrong, would you want to know?”

“I…” she said, beginning her answer before her mind had even fully registered his question.  Would she? If she were wrong?  But she wasn’t wrong, so the point was moot, right?  “It doesn’t matter.  I’m not wrong.  Hundreds of years of history are on my side.”

“But hypothetically.  If you were wrong, if you were lied to, even though you know you haven’t been, would you want to know about it?”

“Of course I would!” Emberglow cried angrily.  “That’s such a stupid question!  Who would want to stay ignorant of the truth?!”

“Who indeed?” Heartwing asked cryptically.  “You done with the mushrooms?  I can hear your tummy growling from here.”  

Wordlessly, she picked up one more of the mushrooms, putting it in her mouth and deliberately chewing it politely, with her mouth closed.  It was a little passive aggressive in response to his earlier bad table manners, but she didn’t really care about the feelings of a heretic.  

“I’ll show you where I found the moving stream.  You can wash off your armor a bit there, if you’d like.”  She nodded, and the two of them left the small room, picking their way through the uneven rubble and stalagmites.

A narrow cave, not even wide enough for the two of them to walk side by side, connected Emberglow’s little cave to a much larger cavern.  Much like the smaller one she had woken up in, this one had clearly been made by pony hoof, with crumbling and destroyed bricks everywhere.  The room was vaguely square shaped, ending in a slight valley, like a dry riverbed, only clearly pony made.  Running down the center of the dry riverbed was the remains of a rail; it took Emberglow a moment to realize she was probably looking at the remains of some sort of underground train system.  She could see the rails extending off in two directions, but both pathways ended in collapsed tunnel walls. 

Heartwing led, his horn lit up to illuminate the much darker room.  The shadows it cast were strange, moving and dancing across the rubble and the short limestone columns.  Emberglow tried not to think too hard about the fact that it was a unicorn creating that light.

“Emberglow,” Heartwing began suddenly, coming to a halt.  His voice was serious, and he turned to look at her in the eye.  “I will never lie to you.”

“Um, okay?” she replied, a little confused at the non-sequitur.

“I promise.  I swear, on my honor as a Knight, that I will never lie to you.”

“Your honor as a Knight?  That means nothing,” her response was automatic.  But suddenly she wasn’t so sure.  They had kept the truce when Emberglow retrieved her fallen, after all. “Your kind aren’t true Knights, you’re monsters.”

“Still, even if it’s worth nothing to you,” he said quietly.  “I still swear.”  He began to walk again, and she followed, her mind spinning.  What did he mean?  What kind of trick was this?  Why bring it up now?  And why did he have to sound so sincere?

“Why is it so important to you?” she asked.  He was silent for a long time.  The two of them reached the broken rail, and he turned to watch her descend into the pit that held it, a critical eye on her wounded wing.  Was he making sure she didn’t fly down and injure herself more?  Odd.  She ignored his extended hoof as they climbed out the other side.

Now on the opposite side of the rail, she could see where the wall had collapsed outward into a more natural looking cave.  She could hear the gurgling of water, probably from a stream somewhere in the darkness up ahead.  

“I made a promise.  A long time ago, in another life, practically.  I broke that promise, and hurt some ponies I loved in the process.  I thought I had good reasons for doing so at the time, but when I saw the results…” he trailed off and let out a sigh.  “It wasn’t worth it.” His eyes looked distant; though he seemed to be scanning the cave ahead for obstacles and threats, she could tell his focus was miles away.  “I considered myself a pretty honest pony before that, but afterwards, the whole concept of promises and honesty started to mean something different to me.  I take my word seriously now, and I never knowingly speak a lie.”

It was just annoyingly vague enough of an answer to make her curious.  Emberglow wondered if it would make sense to ask him about it later, but then dismissed the thought.  He was a Knight Discordant, after all.  She'd always been told they were mysterious, sneaky, deceptive, and not to be trusted.  But still, she was starting to see him as a real pony, and not just a monster.  That might be dangerous, but she had more important things to focus on for now.

The natural cavern was wide, and the stalactites were much shorter than in the pony-built rooms.  There were more of the same mushrooms they had eaten before spread across the floor, which was covered in a thin, dusty soil.  Emberglow could see Heartwing’s hoof prints from the last time he had passed this way.  The stream was becoming louder,and as they turned a corner, and Emberglow could see the twinkling of light from Hearthwing’s horn reflecting off the moving water in the narrow stream.  It looked like molten gold in the light from his horn.  

The stream intersected with the cave they were in, carving its own path as it flowed slightly downhill, nearly perpendicular to the cave.  It was flowing into a small cavern of its own, nearly deep enough for a pony to stand without crouching.  There was even a tiny pool, where the water swirled into a small cubbyhole.  It would work nicely as a bath, though she was fully unwilling to remove her armor and clothing in front of Heartwing, even to wash it.  

“I already used this to wash off my own armor, as much as I could.” The stallion reached back into his own saddlebags, removing a damp cloth.  “I tried to clean it, but it’s not perfect.”

“It will do.  Thank you,” she said, reaching out to take the cloth.  She stepped into the eddy in the icy stream, gasping and jumping back in shock as the frigid water swirled around her hooves.  She scowled back at Heartwing when he chuckled.  “You could have warned me.”  She noticed he had turned around, facing away from her.  It was an oddly affecting gesture both of trust and decency.  

“Yeah, but it was funnier this way.  Tell me, Emberglow.  What does Saint Rarity teach about something like this?”

“You mean making ill-conceived alliances with mortal enemies?” she asked, dipping the rag into the water.  She wasn’t usually sarcastic, but it was helpful to not have to think too hard about what she was doing.  About whose blood she was washing off of her…

“No, I mean taking the time to keep your armor shiny and spotless.  To look beautiful.  You know, fashion and beauty and glamorousness.”

“’Do not be overly concerned about your outward appearance,’” Emberglow quoted, scrubbing the wet rag against the glossy metal of her armor.  It was still dark, and with Heartwing turned away, she couldn’t see the vivid red of the blood.  The mud, she corrected. It was mud.  “’Beauty is superficial, actions and thoughts are real.  Do not be concerned about what you wear; clothing is ephemeral, beauty fades.’”

“That’s a quote?  From Rarity’s scriptures?” Heartwing asked.

“Yes, from Saint Rarity’s scriptures,” she corrected icily.  “You sound like you don’t believe me.  Haven’t you even read the Book of the Saints?”

“Not all the way through, really,” he replied, sounding oddly sheepish.  “I wasn’t really exposed to it growing up.  I wasn’t raised in your faith.”

“But everypony in the Diarchy is raised in the faith!”

“Is that so? Hmm…” he replied, nodding his head slowly.  She snorted angrily.

“Stop that.  That’s such a condescending thing to say, and now it’s the third time you’ve said something like that.  If you disagree with something I’ve said, you can either keep your mouth shut or say something.  None of this passive aggressive stuff.”  

“Very well then,” Heartwing said, and went silent.  This wasn’t exactly what Emberglow wanted; a good angry argument, with plenty of screaming and shouting, would have been perfect to distract her from her task.  She scrubbed at the armor, restoring as much of the white sheen as she could in the dark cave.  She wished she had a mirror; there was sure to be blood on her face, as well.  

No, no, it wasn’t blood, it wasn’t—

She scrubbed the cloth at her cheeks and muzzle, rubbing as hard as she could.  Now that the thought had taken hold, she was sure she could still feel the blood.  Hot blood, life blood, splashing on her face, dripping over her muzzle, her eyes, her mane…

“Are you okay, Emberglow?” she heard Heartwing ask, and she realized she was hyperventilating.  She threw the rag to the shore and ducked down, dashing her entire face into the icy water.  She ignored the pain of the cold, scrubbing desperately with her hooves at the blood she knew was there, she was sure.  She could practically taste it.  Eyes closed, she could see Gadget there in front of her.  Gadget’s smile, her ears twitching with curiosity when she asked Emberglow questions, her eyes full of love when she talked about her father Gearsmith, her lips moving gently against Emberglow’s.

The kiss.  The forbidden kiss.  The taste of the mare’s lips, her tongue.  The electricity shooting down Emberglow’s spine, the growing heat in her...  The all-too-brief moment of peace and beauty and fantasy when she pretended that everything was as it should be.  The lies they both told themselves, the lust she saw in Gadget’s eyes.

The way the flesh of her neck had parted before the enemy’s blade, showering them both with blood.  The happy, dancing eyes lifeless and glassy.  The lips, those sweet lips, spattered with blood, moving silently, wordlessly, then still.  The panic in her face…

	There was noise in the cave.  Somepony was screaming.  Emberglow was screaming.  Sobbing.  Tears flowed down her face, mixing with the cold water on her matted fur.  Somepony was calling her name.  Heartwing was calling her name.  Him.  The heretic.  There was no way.  She couldn’t do this.  This alliance with the monsters that had killed Gadget was too much.  

She sobbed, her throat raw and burning.  Her face hurt from how hard she had been scrubbing it with her hooves.  She spun around, splashing water about her as she rounded on the heretic, muscles tensing to pounce on him again.  Heartwing’s horn was still lit, though he had turned around, surveying her with a calm, pitying expression.  It made her hesitate, but her anger raged.  She snorted.

“It was you,” she said, her voice cold and hard.  “Her blood, her life.  It’s your fault.”  She knew she was being incoherent again, but given the look on his face, he understood.

“I know,” he said.  “Her, and hundreds others like her, heretic and faithful alike.  I’m so sorry.”  He sounded resigned, as if he had been expecting this outburst.  Emberglow didn’t care.

“Don’t you dare!” she shrieked, her voice shooting through octaves.  “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry!  You can’t possibly be sorry!”

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, too calmly.  “But can I ask you a question?  Before you try to kill me, that is.”

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

“It’s not for you, it’s for me.  I saw, from a distance, you cradling Night Star’s head as he passed.  He was speaking.  What did he say?”  

The question seemed out of place, and it took the legs out from underneath Emberglow’s rage.

“What?” she asked, her brain temporarily short circuiting.  Heartwing watched her patiently.

“I want to know what the last thing he said was.  If we are going to fight, to break our truce, right now, this will be my last chance to know.  I want to be able to tell Night Star’s father what his last words were.”

“He didn’t say much,” Emberglow stammered, shaken by the conversation.  “He was asking for his mother.  Over and over.  I… I held him while he cried for his mother.”  

Night Star. A name to the face. She burned with guilt.  How dare he tell her what Night Star’s name was?  It had been so easy, setting her spear against the nameless unicorn’s charge, aiming it just right for the gap in his armor, feeling the resistance as the sharp end pierced and penetrated pony flesh.  Now his name burned in her mind.  “I killed him, then held him while he cried for his mother.”  She didn’t realize she’d said the last part out loud until she saw Heartwing nod.

“What was her name?” Heartwing asked.

“Gadget,” she replied simply.  Now he could burn with guilt, like she was.

“Would you like to tell me about her?”

“No.”

“Would you like to hear about Night Star?”

NO! 

“…yes.”  Why did she say that?  She stepped out of the water, her fury cooled by the conversation, and the slight breeze of air through the tunnel.  Heartwing handed her another cloth, this one dry, and she began to wipe at the water on her face and muzzle.

“He hated me,” Heartwing began.  “Took many opportunities to tell me so.  More than I’m comfortable with.”

“Weren’t you on the same side?”

“Oh, sure.  But just because we shared the same philosophy, didn’t mean he had to like me.  We both agreed on the importance of what we do, he just had a pretty good reason to despise me, though he was trying hard not to.  You see, I got his sister killed.  His little sister.  Now I’ve killed him too.”  Heartwing wiped at his eyes.

“How did she die?”

“She joined the Knights pretty young, before he did.  He protested, argued with her, begged and pleaded, but she wouldn’t listen.  She was good, too; trained harder than any I’ve seen in years.  She was a unicorn, and her special talent was healing spells.  We put it to good use; lots of raids were only successful because she was there.  

"But then a raid went sideways.  The squad got split up, and she got separated from the rest of her team.  She was caught out and torn apart by three Mystics.”  He eyed her.  “I didn’t even bother asking them politely to return the body.”  There was a cold finality in his voice, and Emberglow knew she wouldn’t need to ask him what had happened to the three Mystics.

“Night Star blamed me, as he was right to.  It was my mission.  But he joined up anyways, right after.  He was never as good as Sunrise, his sister.  But what he lacked in natural talent, he made up for in determination and guts,” Heartwing sighed.  “He told me once, that he wanted to make them all pay.  Every Mystic he killed, he would say, was another pony’s sister that got to keep drawing breath.  Now I have to go tell their father that he’s outlived both his foals.”

“What about his mother?” Emberglow asked.

“Night hadn’t seen his mother since he was a foal.  She disowned him years ago.  Their father told me she was faithful, living back in one of your cities.”

“Oh,” Emberglow said dumbly.  She didn’t know what else to say.  She didn’t even know if there was anything else she could say.  The silence dragged, and Emberglow couldn’t meet his eyes.  She didn’t want to see the pain there.  “Why?  Why fight, if it hurts you so much?” Emberglow asked before she could censor herself.  Heartwing looked away.

“Because it would hurt more to not fight.  Something has gone horribly wrong in this world, and fighting this battle is the only way I see to fix it.” His posture softened a little suddenly, and his eyes drifted into a melancholy gaze.  “If I don’t try, how could I ever look her in the eye again?”  That last was whispered; Emberglow got the feeling she wasn’t supposed to hear that bit.  

“Her?  You said earlier you had a special somepony,” Emberglow said.  The moment for violence had passed; now she wanted to distract both of them, and maybe move on and salvage their truce.  It wasn’t that she had forgiven him, not by a long shot.  But she felt like she didn’t have enough energy to even be mad anymore.  

“Huh?” Heartwing looked up, then laughed bitterly.  “Oh no, ‘her’ is somepony who died a long time ago.  If you must know, my special somepony is a stallion, not a ‘her’.”

“You’re… homosexual?” she asked, surprised, and quite displeased at the sudden sense of kinship and sympathy she felt for him.

“Pansexual, actually,” he replied, snickering at her look of confusion.  “I don’t imagine it’s a term you’ve ever heard before.  It fell out of vogue a few hundred years ago, and I don’t really see your church being too encouraging of sex-positive identity terms.”

Emberglow had no idea what he was talking about, and was somewhat suspicious that she was being mocked somehow, so she didn’t respond.  Wordlessly, she picked up the cloth she had discarded before her… whatever it was her outburst could be called.  In silence, she finished washing her armor as best she could.

Gadget, I’m so sorry.

	The silence was not helpful.  After a few minutes of working on her grim task, her vision had already become blurry.  She thought of her own mother, at home in New Canterlot.  What was she doing right now? Emberglow couldn’t even tell what time of day it was; perhaps Needle Point was working in the shop, running the front counter.  Maybe she was in the back doing custom alterations, or perhaps it was evening, and she was at home with Textile sharing a meal at their small wooden kitchen table. Her throat tightened as she thought of her parents, wanting nothing more than to collapse into her mother’s hooves and cry until she couldn’t any longer.

“Did you love her?” Heartwing asked.  She glared at him.  She didn’t want to talk about Gadget.  Not now, not with him, not ever.  But who else was there?  If she died down here, in these goddess-forsaken caves, who else would care what she and Gadget had shared, however brief?

“No.  I couldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t, you mean.”

“No, couldn’t.  It’s a sin.”

“Only cuz your made-up cult says so.  I’m pretty sure I’ve never had one of the magical sky goddesses strike me with lightning while getting hot and heavy with my stallionfriend.”

“Sin isn’t about immediate punishment or vengeance,” she intoned, shoving her own fury at his flippancy deep beneath a calm facade.  She somehow managed to keep her voice steady.  “It’s about damage to your soul.”

“I’m gonna call that voice the Sparklevoice,” he laughed.  Emberglow opened her mouth to protest, but then stopped.

“I don’t even know why I’m bothering,” she muttered.  “Let’s go.  Didn’t you tell me you have a... pathfinding spell?” She could feel the bile rising in her throat at the thought, but it wasn’t like she had any other choice.

“Of course,” his horn began to glow, forming a glowing yellow arrow in the air in front of his muzzle.  The arrow spun around a few times, before pointing away in a direction that moved past the spring, and slightly up.  “That’s west.  Hmm, we must have lost more depth than I thought.  I suppose this path will be better than any other.  If you like, we can continue our discussion while we walk.”

“Our argument, you mean?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Heartwing said.  “What if I only ask questions?”  He pointed with a hoof past the stream, down the cavern, and she looked at him skeptically until he shrugged and stepped across the stream, in front of her.  She wasn’t quite ready to have him behind her yet.  Especially not while he was casting spells.

“That still feels like a trap,” she replied, following behind him.  The glowing golden arrow disappeared, but his glowing horn remained to shed light on the tunnel ahead.

“If you have the truth, it will stand up to challenge.  If you don’t…”

“Ask your questions, heretic.”`
> Chapter 22
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 22


Confidential Knights Mystic Memo, dated 790 AF.  Accessible only by Knights of Inquisitor rank and higher.


RADIANTS AND THE DAY OF HOPE


	It has come to my attention that more and more Knights Radiant have been quietly discussing the Day of Hope, the mythical moment when the Knights Discordant will be redeemed and returned to the fold.  This hope stems from vaguely worded prophecies that the Radiants receive upon their initiation.  These visions come from the strange device that they keep hidden away in Old Canterlot, in the Shrine of the Generous.  Several Inquisitors have spoken or written to me, asking for our official policy regarding this heresy. 

	The details are these.  At some point just before performing the ritual to become a Knight, the aspiring Radiant is exposed to a glass orb that supposedly contains the horn of Sweetie Belle, the unicorn sister of Lady Rarity.  The orb grants the Radiant two visions, one that is consistent, the other that changes for each aspirant.  The second vision appears to foretell the Knight’s future, though more objective study is needed to determine how accurate this is.  Regardless, all Radiants seem to believe and accept the visions as fact.

	The first vision is the same among all Radiants, and contains the following imagery:



Six multicolored crystal lights shining in the darkness

One crystal light disappears, while another glows brighter with light described as ‘threatening, baleful, sinister’ or other such adjectives

A voice, often described in multiple accounts as whispering or sibilant, speaks to the pony


	The quote is always the same.  “Six there were, now five remains. One rules from the shadows, the others follow blindly. Hope is lost, but the lost can be found. The Sleeper will awaken at the hooves of her children. The Generous will find the lost and restore Hope to Equestria.”

	The Radiants themselves have no idea what all of this means.  There is much disagreement as to each point of symbolism.  The general consensus, though, is that the light that disappears represents the Knights Angelic, and that the spoken prophecy itself refers to the Radiants’ role in bringing the Angelic back into the fold.

	Now, as for the Mystic’s official stance: technically, these things are a secret known only to the Radiant.  Since the ‘Day of Hope’ heresy is largely toothless, our stance is to simply pretend not to know anything about the orb, the prophecy, or the Radiants’ foolhardy dreams.  However, we have observed before that this hope can sometimes lead a Radiant to make foolish decisions regarding heretics themselves, treating them with more mercy and patience than is safe.  Inquisitors should be aware of Radiants they are working with, and always watch closely for any signs that they may be behaving too familiarly with heretic Knights in some foolhardy attempt to ‘reform’ them.  

Manehatten Caves, 1112 AF

“You mentioned sin earlier.  What is sin?” Heartwing asked as he walked in front of her.  He didn’t turn as he spoke, the light of his horn casting slowly swaying shadows off the limestone formations around them.

“You don’t know what sin is?” Emberglow replied.  The cave was slowly widening, and she felt like it was angling upwards.

“I know what I think of when I hear the word, but I want to know what you consider the word to mean.”

Emberglow’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Sin is going against the will of the Diarchs.”

“Going against the will of the Diarchs?  Okay.  How do you know what the will of the Diarchs is?”

“Is this a joke?” Emberglow asked, perturbed.  Heartwing made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter, but when Emberglow glared at him, his face was blankly polite. “Any foal can answer these questions.”

“I’ve found that in order to have any sort of productive conversation about faith, a pony has to start by defining terms.  That way the discussion doesn’t get bogged down in an argument about semantics.” Heartwing’s voice was calmly cheerful.  He stopped walking briefly.  “Watch out, the floor here is mostly loose gravel.”  

“The will of the Diarchs is brought to us through the six Saints, as taught in the Book of the Saints,” Emberglow said with a sigh, carefully stepping on the loose floor so as not to trip.

“You believe the Book of the Saints to be completely true and factual?”  Emberglow could practically hear the suppressed smirk in his voice, and it made her all the more determined to hold strong to her faith.

“Of course I do,” she said instantly.

“How confident are you that the Book of the Saints, from beginning to end, is completely literal.  That is, that the events written therein occurred exactly as written?  On a scale of one to ten, say,” Heartwing asked, his voice stuttering for a moment as he nearly slipped himself on the uneven floor.

“Ten,” Emberglow replied confidently. 

Really?  Then why did you let her kiss you?

	“That’s pretty confident,” Heartwing said, as Emberglow stumbled herself.  It was just because of the unstable floor.  Not because she was distracted by dark, shameful thoughts. “May I ask why?”

“Why what?”

“Sorry, poorly worded question.  What is it that gives you such confidence?”

“Everypony knows the Book of the Saints is true,” she replied, but the answer was unsatisfying, even to her.  “I mean, it’s been the entire foundation of pony society for almost a millennia.  Millions of us have lived and died by its teachings.  The Book, and the faith, have helped to keep us safe from a half-dozen hostile nations, and from enemies within.  Like unicorns.”

“There’s lots of reasons there.  But what about you personally?  What is it that gives you confidence in the Book of the Saints?” he asked.  The question made her think; her earlier answer had felt rote, and Emberglow knew that if she were going to defeat the heretic’s logic, she’d need something better.  Something deeper.

Emberglow’s mind floated back to all of her experiences with her faith.  Her earliest memories of worship were with her parents, when Needle Point had still been pregnant with Emberglow’s little brother.  She’d been so excited back then, unable to wait for a new little playmate to join in her make believe games.  No matter how often her parents explained to her he would need months to grow before he could do much more than eat, sleep, cry, and fill his diapers, her enthusiasm would not be stopped.  She would sit in front of the statue of Saint Pinkamena, praying every day for her brother’s safe arrival.  

That was, of course, until he had been born, and she had seen the horn.  Still, those days of visiting the Cathedral, hours spent in front of the kind, maternal gazes of the six Saints, had brought her the strength she had needed when Sir Steadfast had come to take her brother away.  The peace she had felt, the profound, unfailing serenity as she had knelt before those stone figures was a memory that had kept her through some of her darkest times.

Not this one, though.  Were you thinking about Lady Rarity, or Lady Twilight, or any of the others when you were kissing Gadget?

Emberglow was so lost in her thoughts that she tripped on the scrabble herself.  Her right front hoof slid out from under her, twisting slightly as it struck the floor.  A slight stab of pain shot up her muscle.

“You okay?” Heartwing glanced at her..  She tested the limb briefly and nodded.

“I’m fine.  Just got distracted for a second, and I didn’t watch where I was going,” she said, before thinking how he might respond to, or use the knowledge that his questions were getting to her.  He didn’t say anything, but nodded.  Emberglow reminded herself to be more careful with what she said in the future.  “I haven’t really answered your question yet.  Sorry, I’m thinking.  Can I… can I ask you a question?”

“Of course you may,” Heartwing said.  “Careful, there’s a pothole here.”  Emberglow stepped carefully around the pothole.

“The Arch Heretic.  I’m sure you Discordant have stories about him,” she began cautiously.

“Yes, we do.  We keep detailed histories of that time.  I’ve read his journals,” Heartwing replied matter-of-factly.  Emberglow nearly gasped; she was suddenly quite curious, and felt ashamed for it.

“How did he… do what he did?” she asked, silently cursing herself for being so inarticulate.  “Was it by asking questions, like you are?  Or is that a secret?”

“Not really a secret, no,” Heartwing said.  “I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.  I might not believe, but I’ll listen anyway.”

“You know each order of Knights has their own unique rituals, their own secret books of scripture, right?  I’m sure the Radiant have something like that.  They’re kept from the uninitiated, and can only be accessed by that order, or by one of the Mystics.”

“I will not speak of such things with somepony who is  uninitiated,” Emberglow said.

“You don’t need to,” Heartwing replied cryptically.  “I’ve heard it from members of each of the orders I’ve brought over into the Discordant.  So yes, I know all about the oracle locked in the basement of the Shrine of the Generous.” Emberglow gaped at him. “That’s not even Sweetie Belle’s horn, by the way, it’s Starlight Glimmer’s.”  

“Who’s—”

“But that’s beside the point,” he continued on heedlessly.  “The Knights of Kindness had their own secret prophecies and rituals.  One of these prophecies involved a great sacrifice, something all Knights Angelic would have to give up in order to accomplish a tremendous and profound kindness.  The Arch-heretic, as you call him, knew of this prophecy, and joined the ranks of the Angelic in order to place himself at its center.”

“He manipulated a sacred prophecy in order to subvert the entire order?” she asked, horrified.  

“Yes.  Or perhaps his actions were the real fulfillment of the prophecy.  Who can say?  But it wasn’t just the prophecy on the Arch Heretic’s side.  He offered the Angelic more.”

“What?” she asked, not wanting to hear the answer.  She felt sick.

“A personal witness of the events supposedly written in the Book of the Saints, and living proof that they are false.  The Arch Heretic, you see, was an immortal creature, personally acquainted with all six of the Saints.  And he proved to the Angelic, to all of us, that we had been misled.”

“You’re mad.” Emberglow recoiled, her mind instantly raging against the lies she was hearing.  She felt ill. “This is pure fiction.”

“Is it?” Heartwing asked.  “You stated that you had complete confidence in the events of the Book of the Saints.  And yet you weren’t there to observe the events written in the book.  Is it so hard to accept the possibility that the redemption of the Angelic happened just as I said?  After all, you weren’t there, either.”

“But to believe that a creature could have survived hundreds of years, thousands even, is insanity.”

“Not so, Emberglow.  Dragons are known for their longevity.  Have you ever spoken to one?”

“But a thousand years…”

“I can personally witness to you that there are at least two ancient drakes, alive right now, who were friends with your Saint Twilight.  I have spoken with them both.”

“So the Arch Heretic was a dragon?” Emberglow scoffed.

“No, I merely used dragons as an example of creatures whose lives last much, much longer than a pony’s.  The Arch Heretic was something else, entirely.  A draconequus, though the term probably means nothing to you.”

“I thought you said you would never lie to me.  If you are so determined to prove your honesty, why make such outlandish claims?”

“You asked, I answered.  I told you that you might not like the answer I would give.  I can guarantee one thing though; when the ‘Arch Heretic’ presented his evidence to the Angelic Grand Master, the Knight immediately abdicated his position in favor of the Arch Heretic himself, becoming his second-in-command.”

“There’s no way this happened without the other orders, the other Grand Masters knowing,” Emberglow protested.

“They knew.  The old Grand Master, before giving up his position to the Arch Heretic, contacted each and every one of the other Grand Masters in private, begging them to see his evidence and judge for themselves.  Not a pony among them would even listen.  Not even his twin sister, of the Radiant.”

“I… I can’t believe you,” Emberglow said.  “You’re lying.  There’s no way you can prove any of this.”

“I can offer the same proof as the Arch Heretic.  Or rather, he can.  He still lives.”

Emberglow stopped dead in her tracks.  This wasn’t possible.  This was horrible.  The Day of Hope was the secret dream of all Radiant.  But if the Arch Heretic was still alive, did that mean the Day of Hope was a foalish wish?

What proof do you have that he’s not telling the truth?  

Besides, there was the prophecy that each Radiant received from the oracle, back at the Shrine of the Generous.  ‘The Generous will restore Hope to Equestria’.  That meant her order would bring about the Day of Hope, right?

“Emberglow?  We shouldn’t stop,” Heartwing said.  She blinked, looking up at him, then away.  Reluctantly, she forced her hooves into motion, watching him suspiciously for any sign that he was going to say any more.  But except for a significant glance with raised eyebrows, he turned and continued down the gently sloping cave floor.

Was Heartwing simply going to pretend he hadn’t said what he did?  Emberglow had known this was going to happen the moment he had proposed the truce, after all.  Why choose not to kill her, unless he thought there might be a chance to turn her against her faith?  Maybe Sir Brightblade had been right; nothing good could come from playing nice with the heretics.  Well, it wasn’t as if she had a choice now, if she wanted to live…

If she wanted to live. Was this the sacrifice Lady Rarity demanded of her?  To die, lost, starving and afraid in this cursed darkness, if only to keep herself from listening to such corruption?  Was this the storm she had seen in her vision?  Emberglow shuddered at the thought. 

For hours, they trekked through the Caves, looping, circling, exploring.  They found dead ends, and caverns that turned around on themselves.  There were natural caves, and more of the pony-made underground rail system.  These chambers were filled with strange artifacts; mostly bits of twisted metal and infrastructure left behind by the ancient Manehatten ponies.  It would normally have piqued Emberglow’s curiosity, but she was simply too soul-weary to muster much interest.  

Throughout it all, Heartwing continued his silence, only speaking to let her know that they were still heading in the right direction.  Here and there he stopped, gathering mushrooms or tiny edible plants.  

After who knew how long of walking in the darkness, her head began to ache again, the dull pulse of pain reminding Emberglow she would need to rest soon.  Her muscles were screaming with pain, and her back was sore.  The weight of her armor, usually feather light from the enchantments forged into the metal, felt like an anvil pressing on her tortured form.  She stole a glance at Heartwing; he had been plodding along steadily for hours seemingly without difficulty, but now she could detect a small limp in his gait as he walked.

“We should find a place to rest,” Emberglow said, finally.  Heartwing paused, turning his gaze back to her, his horn glowing in the darkness.

“I’d prefer not to stop, myself,” he sighed, his eyes searching the shadows.  “There’s no telling what we could encounter down here.”

“You’re limping, sir, and I’m still recovering from numerous injuries.  If we damage ourselves without thinking, it could be just as dangerous as if we encounter some strange beast.”

“Still…”

“Sir!” Emberglow interrupted loudly, and felt herself trying not to think too hard about what she was about to say.  She was possibly delirious.  “Have you forgotten the Regulation Book entry on chain of command as it relates to the relationship between commanding officers and their medical ponies?”

“What?” he said, stopping and turning around fully to face her.

“On page fifty-nine.  ‘In cases of severe injury, incapacitation, or extreme danger to life and limb, the highest ranking medical officer of any unit may take command over his or her superior officer, should said officer be deemed medically or mentally unfit for his or her command.’  I order you to stop and rest.”  Emberglow had no idea why she said it that way; her mind felt fuzzy, like it was stuffed with wool. Exhaustion-induced delirium, the analytical part of her mind noted.

“You’re… ordering me?” Heartwing said, laughing incredulously.

“To disobey could lead to numerous consequences, up to and including court martial.  When I make my full report to your superior officers, of course.”

Heartwing couldn’t help himself; he burst into laughter, reaching out a hoof to lean against the cave wall as he doubled over.  The laughter lasted a few minutes, and Emberglow began to worry she had broken him somehow.

“I don’t know what’s more insane,” Heartwing said finally, catching his breath and wiping at the tears in his eyes.  “The fact that you have the balls to give me orders, or the fact that you actually have a sense of humor.  Okay, you win.  Let’s find a cave like the one you woke up in, and we’ll rest for a few hours.”

It proved more difficult to find a safe cave to sleep in than either of them had thought.  

The first time they found a promising little room, Emberglow had spotted some tracks in the dusty soil at the floor of the cave.  The tracks themselves were slightly smaller than a pony’s, but each hoof or paw print contained what looked like a wicked set of claws.  Both ponies had shared a look, before turning and heading in the opposite direction.

The second one they found was full of the stench of bat guano.  Excited for a moment, because the presence of so many bats hanging in bunches from the ceiling potentially meant an escape route, both were profoundly disappointed when they found the bats’ exit; a tiny tunnel in the ceiling, more than twenty feet above them, and barely six inches in diameter.  Emberglow was a little disappointed, but Heartwing was undaunted, even giving the sleeping creatures a cheerful wave as they left the bat cave.

The third room they found was, finally, acceptable.  Another pony-made door opened into what used to be a narrow staircase.  The cement stairs went nowhere, going up only a few feet until being blocked off by another cave in.  The pillars of stalagmite, however, suggested that this particular room hadn’t shifted in several hundred years, so they were most likely safe from a cave in.

“I could start a fire, but we have no fuel,” Heartwing offered.  He could start a fire with his unicorn magic, he meant. Emberglow tried not to flinch at the thought.  “Would you relax?  My magic is no different than yours, just easier.”

“That’s hardly the point, is it?” she said softly.  “I’d rather be cold than rely on unicorn magic.” He shrugged, but didn’t argue further.  It was cold, however.  A fire would have been nice, and he had been gracious to offer, so she decided to extend a bit of an olive branch.  “Um, do you trust me?”

“Of course not, Emberglow,” Heartwing said.  “But that doesn’t mean much in our situation.  Why do you ask?”

She reached for her saddlebags and retrieved her first aid kit. “You were limping earlier.  Is your leg injured?  I could look at it, if you want.”

“Look at it? Your spell battery is empty.  There’s no way you could cast any healing runes right now,” Heartwing replied, squinting at her suspiciously.  “It’ll be days before your battery has enough motes.”

“There’s more to healing than spells.  I went to medical school for three years before entering the Ivy Seminary.  They don’t teach magical healing in civilian medical school; most ponies can’t afford magic like that anyways.”

“You went to medical school for three years before your Knight training?” Heartwing eyed her critically for a moment.  “Last I knew, Knight training in New Canterlot still took three years.  You can’t be more than twenty five.”

“I’m only eighteen, actually,” Emberglow said.  “I started civilian med school when I was twelve.”

“Celestia’s sake.  I’m trapped in a cave with a baby genius,” Heartwing gasped, his tone managing to be both disbelieving and amused.

“Please, watch the blasphemy.  And yes, I was… advanced for my age.  But that means I can still diagnose and treat injuries without magic.  I think it’s a pretty useful skill.”  She thought about the battles with the pirates, and the way her first aid had certainly come in handy there.  He nodded, impressed.

“Well then, doctor, your patient is ready,” he said with a smile.

“Okay, I’ll need you to take your armor off,” Emberglow said.  That killed the smile on Heartwing’s muzzle.

“I see.  That’s why you asked if I could trust you.  Well, you’ve got a busted wing and no magic.  I’m pretty sure I could take you even without Knight Armor, so we’ll see how this works.”  She wanted to get upset about the casual way he put that, but it was probably an honest assessment.  The one time they had fought, before the cave-in, she had sensed that she would be no match for him in an honest, one on one fight.

Watching Heartwing take off his armor, Emberglow realized a few things.  First, that unicorns had a significant advantage when donning and removing armor; his horn glowed, and a slight yellow outline appeared around each buckle and strap, undoing it quickly and removing it.  

Second, that she was about to be alone in a room with a naked stallion!  It wasn’t a sexual awkwardness; she had never been interested in stallions that way, but nudity had always made her uncomfortable.  She took a deep breath to put on her professional face, hoping he hadn’t seen the surprise of her realization in her expression.

He had.  With a smirk, he began swaying his tail and his hips, humming a saucy tune as if he were dancing in a burlesque show rather than removing dirty, sweaty armor in a cold smelly cave.  She felt her cheeks fill with blood, her embarrassment coloring her face as quickly as she realized what he was doing.

“Stop it,” she demanded harshly, and he giggled, but he stopped his teasing sway.  

The gambeson underneath his Knight Armor was filthy, stained with blood, sweat, cave soil, and who knew what else.  Emberglow was sure hers was just as bad.  With a glow of telekinesis, he removed the padded gambeson as well; Emberglow caught a glimpse of a few spots where it had been snagged or cut, maybe from her own attacks, or her team’s.   She couldn’t see any marks on his fur.  It hurt her pride a bit that she hadn’t even been able to touch him.

With his gambeson removed, she was able to take a look at Heartwing’s cutie mark.  It was a butterfly in profile, with yellow wings, standing on top of a purple hyacinth.  Emberglow stared for a moment; it looked oddly feminine on the stallion.  He noticed her staring, and wiggled his rump a little like before.

“Taking a mental photograph, are we?  I’ll remind you, I’m involved in a committed monogamous relationship.  Though if you’re interested, I’m sure I can ask Terminus Flash if he’s into sharing.  It’s been a few years since my last threesome.”

“Nope!” she spat.  Emberglow knew he was kidding.  She knew it.  But he still flustered her.  It was oddly comforting, however.  This teasing, mockingly flirtatious behavior was closer to what she had expected from a heretic.  Not the quiet, logical, reasoned questioning.

His questions are making you far too uncomfortable, aren’t they?

	Emberglow distracted herself by assuming a professional mien.  She approached the offending leg, looking at the joints and the muscles.

“May I touch you?” she asked gently.  Heartwing opened his mouth, probably to say something rude, if the smirk on his face was any indication, then thought better of it and nodded.  She reached out to him with her front hooves, lowering herself to the floor next to him so she could more closely inspect the damage.  

There was some mild swelling along his knee, and she could tell it was bruised.  “Pick up your leg.”  He did as she asked, and she carefully bent it slowly at the knee.  “Any pain?”

“A bit.  I’ve been walking on it for a long time, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” Emberglow said.  Her own muscles were still protesting their long walk.  She let him place his hoof down again, gently massaging the swollen muscle.  “You should be fine, but you’re going to have to rest for a while.  Maybe a minor sprain.  It will help to wrap it; I’ve got some decent bandages in my saddlebags.  While we’re at it, you can re-splint my wing.”

“I did my best,” Heartwing whined.  Emberglow smiled gently.

“Yes, and I never thanked you for that, did I?  You did fine, for someone without medical training.”  She undid the buckle on her saddlebags, sliding them off her back so she could access her supplies.  She removed a clean pressure bandage from among her first aid kit and began to wind it around his swollen knee.

“I studied basic field first aid!” he protested.

“I’ll give you some pointers when I’m done here,” she said diplomatically.  “Now, does this feel too tight?  You can still move the limb?  The bandage should give support, but not restrict movement.  You can get dressed, but be careful not to undo the bandage.”

“It feels fine, thank you,” he said.  She turned around so he could get dressed with a little privacy.  She could hear him donning his baldric again, and felt the slight hum of magic in the air as he reassembled his armor.  “Can I help you?”  Emberglow only hesitated a moment before nodding.  “I do have some experience with wings, you know.  Termie is a pegasus.”

“Termie?” Emberglow asked as she collected a fresh wing splint and another bandage from her bag.

“Terminus Flash.  My partner,” Heartwing answered.  His voice was sweet.  Twitterpated, her mother would have said.  “Though if I’m being honest, my experience with wings is more… erm… sensual than medicinal.  Massages, sexy preening, putting feathers in interesting places, that sort of thing.”

“I think we can skip that aspect of wing care,” Emberglow mumbled, flushing hotly.  “Now please listen carefully, here’s what I need you to do…”

With Emberglow’s mostly patient instructions, Heartwing was able to re-splint Emberglow’s sprained wing.  True to his word, Heartwing’s hooves were indeed gentle, at least.  A pegasus’ wings were sensitive at the best of times, and it was certainly helpful not to have them roughly treated.  

Maybe you need to find somepony that will treat your wings right?  A mare, perhaps?

Quickly she silenced her inner thoughts before they could go any further.  What was it about recently?  She’d never struggled with her own lusts before, like she was now.  It was all the heretic’s fault.

You know that’s a lie.  Did she really mean nothing to you?

	No, Gadget hadn’t meant nothing to her, and that was the problem.  She silently implored the Saints to strengthen her faith for these trials.

Because faith and prayers have clearly been enough so far.  Remember the stallion in the stockades?  The zebra captain?  Oak Chips?  Faith and prayers haven’t exactly solved any of your issues in the past, have they?

Were the words of a heretic to be trusted?  She’d never felt this much doubt before.  And now she was arguing with herself, while a heretic bound her wing in a splint.  ‘Hold fast to the rudder and steer your own ship’ said the scripture, but she was letting a heretic and some dead ponies steer her ship for her.

“Done!  I hope it feels okay,” Heartwing said, breaking Emberglow out of her inner tempest.

She gave it a quick look over, and nodded. “Thank you, you’ve done well.  We should eat next.”

“Yes, doctor,” Heartwing said with a smirk, one that Emberglow didn’t feel like returning.  “We have mushrooms with roots, mushrooms without roots, or roots without mushrooms.”  He glanced at her expression, and a bit of the light of humor went out of his demeanor.  “What would you like?”

“Give me both, I suppose.”  She wasn’t looking forward to the meal.  “Do you mind if I ask a prayer over the food?” she asked him.  He nodded his assent.

“Lady Pinkamina, sanctify this meal to bring fullness to our bellies and joy to our hearts.  Lady Rainbow, keep us safe in our trials,” she prayed.  Emberglow paused for a moment.  Would he be offended if she prayed for his soul?  She pressed forward anyways.  “Lady Twilight, help us lost souls with clarity and faith.  All Saints keep us,” she finished.  He was smirking that smug, amused look she was used to by now, but he didn’t repeat the prayer’s end with her.  But why would he?

“I hope I didn’t offend you,” Emberglow said, trying to sound sincere.

“There is only one prayer that would offend me,” Heartwing replied.  “As long as you don’t pray to the Element of Kindness where I can hear you, I won’t begrudge you praying to the others.  Even if you’re praying to save my soul.”

The mushrooms were just as boring as before, but the roots were sweet, if a little bitter and tough to chew.  Emberglow idly wondered what they were, and how Heartwing knew they were safe to eat, but she didn’t quite feel up to speaking with him at the moment.  But what was it about praying to Lady Fluttershy that would bother him?  Did the Discordant still consider themselves hers, somehow?  She sensed it might be a difficult topic to breach.

“Take some rest, I’ll keep watch,” Heartwing offered.  She glanced at him.  “Unless you think I’m going to do something in your sleep.”

“No,” Emberglow said softly.  “If you were going to strike against me, you had plenty of better opportunities to do so before now.  Thank you.”  She had been doing that a lot, recently.  Thanking a heretic.  Who could have predicted she would be in this position?  

She wondered what things would be like when she got back to the capital.  She was sure there was going to be a court martial.  Could she even tell them what had happened?  The idea of lying to her fellow Knights was repulsive to her, but how could she admit to having spoken with a heretic?  Making a truce with a heretic?  Sharing first aid, even a meal, with a heretic?  She suspected she might be in for a few long, uncomfortable conversations with the Knights Mystic when she returned to New Canterlot City.

It wasn’t something she could fix right now, though.  She moved to the far end of the room, underneath the stairway that led to nowhere, and carefully removed her armor, though she left her gambeson on.  She was sure it was just as filthy as Heartwing’s, but there was nothing she could do about it here.  There was no chance she was going to remove it while he was here, that was certain.  

Once her armor was removed, and stacked carefully against the wall, she bowed her head slightly and prayed again. “Lady Rarity, intercede on my behalf,” she began, sotto voce.  She didn’t really want Heartwing to overhear; a glance his way showed he had turned his back to her, moving towards the doorway.  “I… I am beset by doubt and confusion.  I have questions without good answers, and I am afraid that more faith will not be enough.  I am in this situation because I thought I was following in your hoofsteps.  Please guide me.  All Saints keep us.”

When she was done, she curled up carefully on the floor, with her saddlebags as a pillow.  The floor was harsh and unyielding, but her sore limbs were grateful to be still.  Her last sight before she closed her eyes was Heartwing, staring away from her out of the exit to their room, with his horn glowing faintly for light.


*   *   *   *   *


Emberglow…

Emberglow!

Emberglow are you there?  come and see me come and touch me kiss me

	She heard a ringing noise.  A tinkling, like the bell hung over the door to her parents’ shop.  No, it wasn’t like that sound… it was that exact same sound, a familiar, safe sound.

Emberglow  sweetie I want you come hold me don’t you remember our kisses?  they were the best kisses

	There was Gadget, standing right in front of her.  Gadget, with her light blue fur, and sunshine yellow hair, always just a little too long and unruly…

she shifted her blonde hair out of her eyes just like always just like the last time you saw her do it Emberglow sweetie come stay with me come lie with me be with me

	Gadget was naked.  Emberglow knew she should look away.  She didn’t.  Couldn’t.  Wouldn’t, not this time.  The bell dinged again.  Somepony called out something Emberglow couldn’t hear.

look at the fur the tail the flanks the curves touch me be mine Emberglow taste my lips my tongue my everything

	She saw a hoof reach out.  Her hoof.  She touched the phantom before her.  The bell dinged.  Somepony called out, desperately.  Words of protest, words that made no sense.

soft fur silky fur touch it stroke it love it make love blood there’s the blood it’s flowing it’s pouring all over it’s all over me all over us gushing out spurting it’s on me all over me I’ll never be clean never get it off get it off GET IT OFF!

	Somepony was screaming.  Emberglow was screaming.  The phantom leaned forward, pressing her lips against Emberglow’s.  She tasted iron, and a rush of hot liquid filled her mouth.

Emberglow I’m cold its cold where did you go why is there blood please help me please make it stop please love me please 

	“My little pony!  Wake up!  You need to wake up!” The bell rang more, six more times, each time louder and louder.


*   *   *   *   *


“Emberglow!  You need to wake up!” Heartwing was whispering harshly.  She felt his hoof on her shoulder, shaking her.  “Please!  Stop screaming!  You need to stop screaming!”

“Wha…huh…?  You’re not the same…” Emberglow said blearily, blinking, her thoughts incoherent.  Heartwing was peering into her eyes, his red and yellow oddly paired irises focused intently on her own.  She reached up with a hoof to push him away gently, rubbing at her eyes in the process.  They were wet; matted fur around her cheeks and face attested to the tears.

“Shh!  You were screaming in your sleep.  Nightmare.”  He glanced about, and his normal teasing lilt was gone.  “There are creatures about, I’m sure of it; I heard something moving around in one of the larger caverns outside after one of your cries.  Maybe your screaming scared them away, or maybe it’s going to lure them closer.”

“But… what… oh.  What about you?” she asked, her mind finally grasping the situation.  A crisis was good; it would help to not have to think about her dream.  The disturbing combination of eroticism and horror would haunt her forever.  “You need a turn to rest too.”

“Get your armor on, and we’ll see if we have to fight or flee.  If nothing comes to bother us, I might shut my eyes for a while, after we move and find a different cave.  I don’t wanna be in the same place where we were making too much noise before.”

“How long was I out?” Emberglow asked.

“About three hours.  Don’t worry, I maybe didn’t sleep, but I was sitting and resting most of the time.”  Even in the dim light of his horn glow, she could see the bags under his eyes.  He still needed at least a little sleep, and she barely felt rested at all.  She did as he asked, careful about her wing as she replaced her armor, then her bags.  

The two ponies sat as quietly as they could for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the Caves around them.  Emberglow could only hear the omnipresent dripping of liquid, and the beating of her own heart.  She realized she was terrified.  What if something did come looking for them?  It would be all her fault.  She was chilled; the mild breeze flowing through the cave was cooling her down as it brushed across her sweat-soaked hide.

“Okay.  Let’s find another spot to rest,” Heartwing said finally.  The two of them left the stairwell room, their hooves moving as quietly as possible.  Each step was deliberate and paranoid, with both Knights making sure not to step on anything that might make even the slightest noise.  Emberglow barely dared to breathe, terrified that whatever might be following them could hear every sound she made.

Suddenly Heartwing stopped, pointing with a hoof at one of the walls of the natural cavern they were in.  There was moss and moisture, of course, but also a foul stench.  Emberglow looked where he was pointing; there were scratch marks on the wall; deep furrows carved by two sets of claws, over and over again.  The scratches began about twice the height of a pony, and traveled down to eye level.  A dark stain on the wall just underneath the gouges in the stone wall explained the stench; whatever had marked the wall with its claws had also marked the wall in other ways.  

Heartwing held a hoof up to his lips, indicating silence, his eyes searching Emberglow’s face for understanding.  She nodded, shivering.  Some sort of creature called this area its home, and they would have to be on their guard.  She wished she still had her spear, or even some charge in her spell battery.  Emberglow wasn’t the best at offensive spells, but even a little bit of power would help.

She glanced down to her hoof,  where her spell battery was kept.  Heartwing motioned towards it with a hoof.  Eyeing him suspiciously, she triggered the switch that would open the canister, releasing the battery.  It had only been a few hours since she had drained the last motes, so the red gem was still dull and lifeless.  It would be at least a month before the ambient magical energy that filled the world refilled it.  

Heartwing held out a hoof towards the battery.  She shrugged, handing it to him; it was useless to her now, whatever he wanted it for couldn’t hurt.

Heartwing set the cylindrical device down on the cave floor and leaned forward, his glowing horn nearly touching the battery.  The yellow light of his magic reached out, like a pseudopod, surrounding the battery with its waving outline.  Emberglow nearly gasped when she saw the battery’s red gem light up, representing about two days’ worth of charge.  Heartwing grunted with effort, and the magical aura grew brighter.  He poured more magic into the battery; a few seconds later, the yellow gem lit up as well.  By the time Heartwing’s magical aura retreated just to his glowing horn, the yellow and red lights on the battery were still glowing, and the first of the green gems was flashing fitfully.  

“I…“ Emberglow began, but was silenced by a harsh glance and a hoof to her lips from Heartwing.  She nodded nervously at him, and picked up the battery to replace it in its home.  Would this mean the battery was corrupted, somehow?  Tainted or unholy?  She had no idea, but the thought left her unsettled.  Should she refrain from writing runes?  Could she?  She slipped the spell battery back into the canister in her armor, and Heartwing turned around silently.  She followed him, wondering.

Spell batteries usually took weeks to regain as much charge as Heartwing had added in mere seconds.  Clearly it wasn’t without cost; the unicorn heretic looked even more tired than he had before, and there was a noticeable slump in his gait.  

The attack came with no fanfare, no monstrous growling or shriek of rage.  Emberglow had the merest fraction of a heartbeat to react when she heard the claws scrabbling against the rock floor.  She acted on instinct, sensing the lunge before she could even see what was attacking.

“Look out!” she cried out, shoving against Heartwing’s flank with both front hooves.  The unicorn was clearly tired, his reflexes suffering, and Emberglow was barely able to shove him out of the way in time.  Their attacker landed right where the two of them had been, with Emberglow on one side and Heartwing on the other.  Both ponies spun to see what had been stalking them.

The creature was a nightmare of gangly limbs and patchy, pale white fur.  It resembled a dog, but it was much larger than a pony, with four paws tipped with sharp claws that scratched gouges in the ground underneath it.  Two slavering heads thrashed about violently. One of the heads was clearly blind, with milky white eyes, while the other was deformed, a large cavernous piece of its snout missing.  She could see into its sinus cavity.  

The blind head sniffed the air, its hot breath coming out in loud puffs.  The second head eyed the two of them, its open maw full of sharp fangs.  Emberglow nearly gagged when the stench of its breath washed over her; it smelled of meat and rotten things.  

Emberglow was no combat veteran, but she was long past her first battle onboard Zuberi’s pirate ship, when she had frozen up in combat. Her mind raced to analyze the situation and prepare her next move.  The hideous creature was between the two of them, cutting her off from Heartwing.  For a split second, she considered trying to go under the thing’s legs.

Its maw was fast.  Before she could start moving, the sighted head had lashed out, its jaws gaping for her throat.  Emberglow threw up a hoof to ward off the gnashing fangs, but the creature bit down on her armored leg.  The monster’s teeth scraped against her armor, but the fangs didn’t pierce through to her flesh.  She let out a yelp when the creature yanked with its maw, pulling her off her balance and nearly into the waiting clutches of its other toothy muzzle.

With her right hoof immobilized by the creature’s jaw, Emberglow was unable to cast any rune spells.  She reared back her left hoof, prepared to strike the blind dog head that was about to bite her.  She flailed at it with her hoof, but the creature dodged instinctively, moving its free face away from her questing hoof while keeping her off balance with its other.

“Emberglow!  Close your eyes!” Heartwing shouted.  She clenched her eyes shut.  Even through her eyelids, she could see the intense, bright flash of magical light.  There was a sound of impact and a growl of fury as the creature was struck by something, and suddenly her hoof was free.

“Can you cast runes on the run?” Heartwing reached out with a hoof to yank her away from the monster.

“Y-yeah,” she stuttered.  The blind head was thrashing around, while the other had its eyes clenched shut, howling in pain.  Emberglow could see a patch of burned fur just behind its left ear.

“Good.  Let’s run,” he said.  “Ready any sort of shield spell you have.”

The two ponies took off running away from the monster.  Emberglow began tracing the first of the runes she would need, her gait awkward and a little slow because she was using only three of her hooves.

“Wait for my signal to finish the spell!” Heartwing called.  She held the charged energy, feeling the magic coursing from her battery up her leg.  She began to turn to look behind them.  “No!  Eyes forward, hold the spell, and run.  I’ll tell you when to finish it.  Trust me.”

Emberglow didn’t have a choice.  She could hear the bellowing barks of the creature, two different pitches as both heads angrily called out to them.  The claws clicked and scraped against the floor.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” she panted.

“Away from that thing.  Other than that?  Nope,” he said.  “Now no more talking.  Hold it…”

Emberglow was certain she could feel the hot, smelly breath of the creature behind her.  Spittle from its frothing maws flicked out and spattered on the back of her ears and mane, and she nearly tripped and fell.  The pressure of the held spell pushed against her mind, and she held on for dear life, until…

“Now!” Heartwing yelled.  She finished the last rune, releasing the charged motes and bringing her shield spell to life.  The glowing purple sphere came into being right as the creature was mid lunge.  Its own momentum slammed it into the solid magical wall, and Emberglow heard a loud crunch of bone.

“It’s not over.  Prepare another and keep an eye on the creature, now.  It won’t be so quick to leap without looking, and I need some time to cast our pathfinding spell.”  He was running out of breath.  “Not that it’s doing us any good.”

It was a little strange to Emberglow how easy it was to follow his orders.  Technically he was a senior Knight, and she had made the joke earlier about them being in a chain of command, but still, he was a heretic.  She should be hesitating at least a little.  

It was probably far too late to worry about that now.  She began weaving the runes of another shield spell.  She was glad she’d practiced these so often; they came so much more naturally to her than any sort of attack spells.

“This way!” Heartwing called out, as the tunnel they were in suddenly expanded outwards into a large cavern the size of a soccer field.  Several dozen ancient, broken rails crisscrossed the room.  “Don’t trip!”  He rushed along one of the rails, and Emberglow followed as carefully as she could at the speed they were going.  She could see up ahead that the tunnel the rail led down was mostly intact. 

Emberglow turned to look at the monster right as it burst into the large cavern itself.  Tensing its hind legs for a lunge, it made use of the greater space to leap across the room, landing right in front of the two.  She had just enough time to finish her second shield spell as its claws lashed out at her, while the sighted maw dove at Heartwing.  She could see blood on the blind head’s snout, which was twisted a bit from its impact with her first shield.

“Damn creature,” Heartwing swore.  His horn glowed brightly, and a lance of light burst from the tip, striking at the thing’s chest.  It singed the fur a bit, and the monster howled, but other than that, it seemed to have little effect.  “I seem to be running low on juice, so to speak.  Ideas?”

“More… running,” Emberglow panted.  “Pick a… different tunnel.”

“Very well… uh… this way,” Heartwing chose at random.  They spun around and split off the rail they had been following to dash down another.  This one was narrower, Emberglow noticed.  The wall had partially collapsed, leaving an opening only slightly large enough to admit ponies.  They would have to go in single file.  Heartwing ducked under the low hanging stone, and she followed quickly, picking up her hind legs at the last second to dodge the creature’s snapping teeth.

“Can he follow?” she asked as they pushed through the claustrophobic tunnel.  She could barely turn her head to see behind her, but suddenly the view from behind was filled with violently snapping teeth and a questing tongue.  The narrow dog-like head tried to nose its way into the tunnel after them, yelping with pain when the other head tried to enter as well and smashed against the outside wall.  The creature’s thrashing made the tunnel shake, sand and loose pebbles raining down on the two ponies.

“He’s sure going to try.  Move quickly so he doesn’t bring the whole ceiling down on us,” Heartwing said.  The walls were close, too close.  Sharp rocks along the sides scraped against her armor, making a screech on occasion as stone ground against metal.  Emberglow spared a slightly mournful thought at all the beating, scratching, and general mayhem that had been visited on her beautiful armor, but only for a moment.

“Saints guide us,” she said softly, and heard Heartwing laugh.

“If you wanted to pray to Fluttershy now, I wouldn’t be too offended.  She used to own one of those, you know.  For about an hour.”

“Own one of… those?  What in the name of the holy Diarchs was that?”  And what did he mean, Lady Fluttershy had owned one for just an hour?  She knew that each holy Knight order had their own unique scriptures and teachings of their patron saint, but she had always assumed that the Knights Angelic had cast aside all of the scriptures and teachings when they had fallen to heresy.

“An orthos.  They used to be as sweet as any dog.  Now the only ones I’ve run into are vicious and starving, or mutated monsters like this one.  It’s sad, really,” Heartwing said.  “From what I’ve heard, the one Fluttershy owned was a real sweetie.  So if you wanted to say a prayer to her…”

“Saint Fluttershy, please keep us safe from that creature,” Emberglow said without hesitation.  As long as he didn’t mind, she was willing.  She’d never felt quite comfortable praying to Saint Fluttershy out loud; it was often seen as ill-omened, because of the fall of her Knights.  There was something haunting about her statues in the temples of the Church; her kind gaze always covered with a white cloth to hide her eyes from seeing the shame of her followers.  “In your infinite Kindness, keep its claws and teeth from us.”

“You should probably look after the orthos too, Fluttershy,” Heartwing said, joining Emberglow in her prayer.  “I know he’s a vicious bloodthirsty monster, but you always had a place in your heart for those.  Especially… you know who.  Sorry we had to hurt it.”

Emberglow was stunned.  A heretic had just prayed with her.  Sure, his words were disrespectful while doing so, but his voice seemed sincere.  She nearly forgot to end her prayer, and was shocked again when Heartwing joined her for the final words.  “All Saints keep us.”

They could barely hear the orthos any longer.  The narrow cave was dark, too small to allow much light to fill it.  Emberglow focused on Heartwing’s grey tail in front of her, hoping that the cavern would neither end in a dead end nor collapse on top of them.  She could still feel the walls and ground shaking from the furious monster behind them.  

As they weaved through the narrow cave, though, they began to hear something else.  A slight humming noise that Emberglow couldn’t quite identify was coming from somewhere ahead.

“What is that?” she asked cautiously.  She saw Heartwing shrug.

“I don’t know, but… there’s strange magic up ahead.  It’s the same motic signature that…” he trailed off, with a distrustful look at Emberglow, before sighing.  “It’s the signature that brought us all here.  I can feel it in my horn.”

“That seems way too coincidental,” Emberglow muttered.  “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.  Let’s find out!”

Much to their dismay, though, the cave didn’t widen.  In fact, it began to shrink.  With each yard, the ceiling became lower and lower.  With the light ahead blocked mostly by Heartwing’s body, Emberglow began straining to see at all.  Both of them had to duck down, crouching uncomfortably as they tried to shimmy through the passage.

“The ceiling above us isn’t stone anymore,” Heartwing said, his voice wondering.  “It’s wood.  No, a root.  A tree root.  What is…” he fell silent.  “There’s light up ahead.”

“Sunlight?” Emberglow asked hopefully, looking up at the ceiling.  She couldn’t tell what kind of wood it was, but she could see it definitely wasn’t stone any more.  The floor was slightly damp, as if water had recently passed through.

“Sadly, no,” he replied.  “But it’s not the glowing fungi from earlier.  It’s magical, that’s for sure.”

Emberglow followed him in silence, her fear like a pit of lead in her stomach.  She could hear the enthusiasm in his voice; he was curious about whatever magical oddity lay ahead.  But she couldn’t share his enthusiasm.  Given the disaster they had just escaped from, she wasn’t quite sure she wanted to see whatever abomination lay ahead.

“Can you see if the cave widens up ahead?” she asked instead.

“I’m not sure,” he called back.  “But be careful, the floor is wet.  This rock is smooth, it might be… ARGH!”  Emberglow heard the sliding and the thump as suddenly Heartwing disappeared in front of her.  His light went out, and he was no longer blocking the strange blue glow that came from the room up ahead.  She couldn’t see its source.

“Heartwing!  What happened?” she called out, freezing in place.

“Ow!  I slipped.  The floor is slippery, be care… oh… oh wow.”  The unicorn went silent.

“Heartwing?  Are you okay?” she asked, only Heartwing was silent.  She inched forward, feeling her way on the slippery floor.  She could tell why he lost his balance; the floor sloped dramatically downwards, and with the faint blue light she could see that the pathway did in fact open wider.  Emberglow tried her best to nudge herself forward as carefully as possible, but the slope was too steep, and she slid into the next room, falling unceremoniously onto the floor with a hiss of pain as the impact aggravated the myriad of aches and injuries throughout her body.

The floor was not stone.  It was tree root, as Heartwing had said.  But Emberglow had never seen tree roots like this.  They were a gray-blue color, and their structure was clearly organic, but somehow oddly crystalline as well.  They covered the entire floor, most of the walls and the ceiling as well, in a tight weave.  The roots grew lighter the closer they came to the center of the room, where they wrapped around and around themselves to form a round, cocoon-like structure in the center of the round cavern.  

The roots around the cocoon were glowing faintly with a whitish-blue light.  The hum she had heard earlier was coming from the cocoon, growing louder as she grew closer to it.  It was a pleasant sound, similar to the sound made by running a wet hoof along the rim of a crystal goblet.

Underneath her hooves, the roots felt warm.  There was a pulse to them, a living energy that reminded Emberglow of the feeling of holding a charged spell.  It wasn’t just that, though; the entire room felt alive.  It wasn’t a sinister sensation; Emberglow felt like they could lay down and rest here, and sleep for weeks.  It was peaceful, restful.  Her aches were fading, disappearing into memory.  Even the constant pain of her sprained wing was no more.  She took a deep breath, inhaling the air.  It was clean, free of the omnipresent smell of dank cave water and rotting things that had filled the caves up to this point.

“This is not possible,” Heartwing whispered softly.  She looked over at him; the unicorn had moved further into the room, closer to the cocoon.  “This is… complete madness.  It can’t be here.  It was never here.  It was in Ponyville.  In the Everfree.”

Emberglow had no idea what he was talking about, but the words were familiar.  In some of their oldest records, Ponyville was the name of the town where the earliest stories of the Saints came from.  It was where Lady Rarity had first embarked on her great ambition; to clothe all of the poor and destitute ponies of the world with her generous creations.  It was the place where New Canterlot City had been built, after the old capitol had been abandoned.  Everfree was the name of the park district.

“What can’t be here?” she asked, and he started, as if he had forgotten she was there.

“These roots; they come from the Tree of Harmony,” Heartwing answered, running a hoof gently along the surface.  “But there was only ever one tree, and it was beneath the Everfree Forest.”

“Tree of Harmony?  There’s no mention of that in the Book.”

“Of course not.  Anything that might remotely challenge their whitewashed version of history was excised from your mythology centuries ago,” he said idly, and she bristled at the insult to her faith.  He ignored her reaction.  “It’s where the Elements of Harmony came from.”

“The Elements of Harmony were a gift to Saint Twilight from the holy goddesses of the Diarchy,” Emberglow argued.  “The histories are clear.”

“The histories are lies.  Everything and everypony that doesn’t fit the church’s narrative is either twisted or disappears.  Ever heard of Discord?  Starlight Glimmer?  Cozy Glow?  The Great and Powerful Trixie?  Spike the Dragon? The School of Friendship?” he listed, watching her non-reaction to each name.  “The Tree of Harmony is the same way.  The Tree grew the Elements, and gave them first to Celestia and Luna.  When those two lost their connection to the Elements, the six you call Saints were chosen by the Tree to carry them.”  He ran his hoof gently along the cocoon, and Emberglow could tell the magic was reacting to him.

“More blasphemy,” Emberglow countered.  “Besides, this place is clearly sacred.  Can’t you feel it?  You profane it with your presence.”

“Of course this place is sacred.  The Tree is sacred.  I have no idea how its roots have grown here, but it has.  I wonder what it is protecting…”

“Stop touching it,” Emberglow snapped, moving along the roots to join him next to the cocoon.  “We don’t know—” She reached out to grab his hoof, to pull him away from the sphere of roots, when her own hoof brushed against the crystalline wood.  There was a pulse of white light from the roots, and the hum grew louder.  Both ponies backed away from the cocoon.

“What was—?” Emberglow asked, but fell silent as the roots began to move, swirling about, untangling, like a thousand tendrils of yarn all unraveling of their own accord.  They made a hissing, slithering noise as they rubbed against each other, much like wind through a fully dressed tree.  

Both ponies stared, open mouthed, as the roots parted to reveal a floating, glowing transparent orb.  It was suspended on a platform of roots, and it pulsed slightly, as if breathing in and out.  There was a mare inside.

She was gorgeous.  Breathtaking.  Emberglow’s breathing literally stopped as she gazed up at the magically suspended pony.  Her white fur was pristine, as was her perfect purple mane.  Her eyes were closed, and her lips were curled up slightly, as if in the midst of a pleasant dream.  Emberglow’s gaze drifted to the mare’s cutie mark.  Her triangle of blue diamonds, arranged just like they always were in her statues and paintings.  Nothing Emberglow had ever seen prepared her for the sight of Lady Rarity, her Lady Rarity, floating before her in the flesh.

And then Emberglow’s eyes found Rarity’s horn.

The light faded to black as Emberglow slumped onto the ground in an immediate faint.
> Chapter 23
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 23


Letter sent from Knight Private Emberglow to disgraced former Knight Lofty Tale.  Confiscated by Knight Mystic censors, on suspicion of possible heresy.

	Dear Lofty,

	I received your letter today, and have just a few moments to sit down and write a response.  Things are hectic right now; I’m writing to you from an outpost outside of Manehattan.  In just a few hours we’re going to be airdropped into the center of the city.  Our objective is classified, but I imagine the mission might take several weeks.  If you don’t hear from me, please don’t think I’ve forgotten about you or am ignoring you.

	It is such an honor to be asked to be your son’s goddess-mother.  Of course I accept.  As soon as I get back I’ll be right by to visit you and meet your foal.  Regardless of how he came to be, he is innocent, and deserves all the love and beauty in his life that he can get.

	I won’t say I’m not disappointed in the choices that led you to this point, but I understand them, and I still love you.  You are one of my only friends in the world, and you could never do anything to lose my love.  I pray to the Saints on your behalf daily.  I’m sure Saint Applejack understands the difficult choice you had to make.

	Keep strong.  The path you are walking on will be a difficult one.  Don’t lose hope, and don’t lose faith.

	Your dear friend,

	Emberglow

1112 AF, Manehattan Caves

“Wake up, sister.  Need you running on full batteries for a bit,” an aggravating voice interrupted her unconsciousness.  Something wet and cold splashed against her face.  “Wake up, or I’ll start blaspheming until you do.  Hey, did you hear the one about Celestia and the big, ribbed, pink rubber…”

“Shut up!” Emberglow muttered, her eyes fluttering as she tried to come to her senses.  What had just happened?  Where was she?  The room was spinning.  “I told you not to call me sister.”

“Oh, good, you’re waking up,” Heartwing's voice said.  “Be quick about it.  We need to figure out what’s going on.”

Suddenly Emberglow remembered.  Her eyes shot open. 

She was still in the room with the glowing crystalline roots.  With the fake unicorn Lady Rarity.  Her eyes darted to the central collection of roots, where she had seen the gorgeous mare.  Lady Rarity was gone, the glowing orb of force that had been holding her having disappeared. 

“Where is…” Emberglow began.  Her searching eyes found Heartwing.  He was standing between her and a prone figure, covered by a rough brown blanket, resting on the floor.  “Is that…”

“Rarity, in the flesh.  Quite literally.  She is alive, I checked, but still asleep.”  Heartwing declared.

“What kind of trick is this?” Emberglow hissed.  “If you think, for a second, that I’ll believe whatever asinine deception you have planned, you’re an idiot.”

“Emberglow, I promised I’d never lie to you,” Heartwing said.  “This is… completely unexpected.  I had no idea she was here.”  He snorted with disbelief.  “I was even starting to wonder if this was some sort of plot you cooked up to deceive me.”

“What was… but why would I… that makes no sense!” Emberglow floundered.  

Heartwing shrugged. “Well, I promise you this isn’t part of some heretic plot.  I corrupt Knights through teaching them critical thinking skills and allowing them to come to their own better conclusions as to the truth or falsehoods of their own epistemological assumptions, not through planting mystery mares disguised as ancient Saints in caves I’ve never seen before for reasons that make no sense.”

The statement certainly helped her understand their earlier conversations.  Setting that aside for now, she glanced back at the white unicorn.

“Who is she?” Emberglow asked.

“She’s Rarity.”

“No, really,” Emberglow said.

“No, really!” Heartwing shot back.  “I know enough dispelling magic to undo any illusions or see through any shapeshifting magic.  And as you know, cutie marks are never repeated.  This mare is really your Lady Rarity.  I’ll let you check yourself, if  you promise not to hurt her.”  She scowled at the implication, but he pointed at her threateningly with a hoof.  “I’m serious, Emberglow.  I swear to you, if you even harm a hair, or horn, on her head, I’m going to atomize you.  No hesitation.”  There was something about the threat that made Emberglow shudder.

“I won’t hurt her,” Emberglow said.  “I am a healer; I can probably tell more with a single spell than you can with hours of observation.”  She said it without pride; it was a matter of fact.

“Very well.  But be careful,” Heartwing said.  He stepped back, allowing Emberglow access to the mystery unicorn.  He stopped only a few steps away, however, his legs tensed for action, his brown ears tracking her.  His horn was lit, already glowing with a golden aura.  

Emberglow stepped up to the white mare slowly, cautious and afraid.  Slowly, so that Heartwing could see everything she was doing, she began writing the runes for a diagnosis spell in the air over the sleeping mare.  Heartwing’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Emberglow’s spell revealed… nothing.  This mare was completely normal in every way, except for being a unicorn.  She was perfectly healthy, and perfectly beautiful.  

Was that thought really medically necessary?  

“I just cast a basic diagnosis spell,” Emberglow explained.  She needed more information.  “She’s perfectly healthy, that’s all I can tell.  I’ll need to do more.  I know a spell that will allow me to read the ambient levels of motic energy infused into her bones and organs.  It will give me an idea about where she might be from.”

“How so?” Heartwing asked.

“Every pony in Equestria is exposed to different levels of magical radiation based on where they live.  Those who live near New Canterlot City have more than, say, ponies that grew up in Rainbow Falls.  A pony that lived near Manehattan would have even more.  It will also tell me if she’s been infused, like a Knight, or if she’s experienced anything similar.  It won’t hurt her.”

“Proceed,” Heartwing said warily.  Emberglow cast the spell, looking around the mare’s body for the telltale glow that would give her at least a little more information about where this mare was from.  

She saw… nothing.

“That’s impossible,” Emberglow muttered.

“What is?” Heartwing asked.

“Nothing.  No motic radiation.  That’s completely impossible.  Everypony has at least a little.”

“This motic radiation, where does it come from?” Heartwing asked.

“Motic radiation is a side effect of rune magic.  Ever since the Saints gave it to us, it has been harmless, but detectable, in everypony in Equestria, at some level or another.”

“It began with rune magic, then?  So if she has none…” Heartwing trailed off.  Emberglow scowled at him.

“I know what you’re implying, but it makes no sense.  How could this mare possibly be over a thousand years old?”

“Magical stasis?  Miracles of the Saints?  Direct intervention from a godlike, meddling tree?  I have as little idea as you do,” Heartwing shrugged.  “I didn’t put the evidence there.”

“Didn’t you?” Emberglow asked.

“No, I didn’t!” Heartwing insisted.  “…and you’re right, it’s really annoying to answer questions with questions that way.  I’m sorry.”

Emberglow didn’t want to believe him.  She couldn’t believe him.  But cutie marks didn’t lie.  And neither did motic resonance detection spells.  She reached out a hoof to push back the blanket that covered the white mare’s form.  She needed to be sure it wasn’t a trick.  She slid the rough blanket back, slowly exposing the mare’s body, deliberately not admiring her pristine, immaculately kept fur, her slender graceful limbs, her perfectly kept mane that begged to have a hoof run through it, maybe Emberglow’s hoof...

“What are you doing?”  

It took all of her willpower not to yelp in shock when Heartwing spoke; she had nearly forgotten he was even there.

“I...I need to see her cutie mark again.  Make sure it’s not a trick.  Makeup, paint, a tattoo…”

“Go ahead,” Heartwing said cautiously, though he did step a bit closer.  Nodding, she continued pulling back the blanket to expose the mare’s flank, and her cutie mark.

There it was.  Three blue diamonds, arranged in a triangle.  Just like she had seen a thousand thousand times, just like the symbol painted on her very own armor, and emblazoned on the cover of the copy of the Book of the Saints she had sitting in her saddlebag right now.  

She stared, her eyes taking in every detail.  Reaching out with a hoof, she gently touched at the mark, though this close she was sure it wasn’t paint or makeup.  The mark was real.

And the fur is just as silky as it looks…

“If you’re done molesting the unconscious mare’s flank, could we perhaps discuss what to do next?” Heartwing asked suddenly.

“What!” Emberglow shrieked, jumping back from the sleeping form, spinning away from the mystery mare to face her adversary.  “I wasn’t… I couldn’t… how dare you insinuate…”

“It wasn’t an insinuation, it was a direct statement,” Heartwing said matter-of-factly.  “And I know she’s cute, but drooling?”

“I am not…!” Emberglow protested, raising a hoof to her lips.  She hadn’t been drooling, but she saw Heartwing’s smirk, and realized she’d fallen into his trap.  She took a deep breath, and tried to collect herself.  She wasn’t losing control, or being consumed by lust, she was just flustered by the situation.

Maybe not lust, but would attraction be the right word?

	No.  Just because she couldn’t see how this was a deception, didn’t mean it wasn’t.  She knew the truth.  Lady Rarity was an earth pony.  This unicorn, though she didn’t understand how, was nothing more than a trap to manipulate her.  She found it slightly odd that Heartwing seemed just as confused as she was, but maybe it was a deception from some unknown third party?

“Huh… wha…?” came a sweet voice from behind her, and Emberglow spun again to face the mare. 

Sparkling blue eyes, half-lidded with sleep, with long, fluttering eyelashes and just enough subtle makeup to…

If you don’t want to start drooling, you’re going to need to put the brakes on these little mental tangents.

	“Rarity?  Is that really you?” Heartwing asked, moving up beside Emberglow and bumping her out of the way a bit.  The mare’s eyes narrowed in confusion, and she blinked several times, looking around the cave.

“Where… where am I?” she asked.

“That’s going to take a bit of an explanation.”  Heartwing rubbed the back of his head with one hoof, looking overwhelmed.  “What is the last thing you remember?”

“Remember?  I…” her forehead scrunched as she considered.  “I was at the Manehattan Institute of Magitechnology.  Not my usual scene, mind you, but Twilight had just begged me to go observe some sort of experiment for her, as she was tied up in matters of state with Princess Cadence up in the Empire.  Starlight would have gone, but she was...” Rarity trailed off, her voice suspicious.  “Who are you two?  You look like ruffians, with all that martial looking attire.  And so soiled.  If you have kidnapped me for some nefarious purpose, I’ll have you know that while I may look like a delicate flower, I am more than capable of defending myself!”

“Please relax, Rarity,” Heartwing kept his voice even.  “Nopony’s going to hurt you.  We’re not ruffians, we’ve just been… roughing it for a few days.”

“Your voice,” Rarity said, her eyes narrowing in anger as she rose on her hooves, stamping one of them in a show of prissy anger.  “You think a little dirty armor and a poor disguise will make me forget who you are?  Discord, if this is one of your silly pranks, I’ll have you know that I am not amused!”

“Rarity, please calm down.  This is not a trick, this is not a prank, and I… I don’t even go by that name any longer.  Please sit down, I have a lot to tell you about, and you’re not going to like it.  If you ever saw me as a friend, please hear me out.”

“Well,” Rarity said, her anger drifting away into confusion at the sincerity in Heartwing’s voice.  “I suppose I can…”

“I knew that you both knew each other before!” Emberglow interrupted angrily.  Clearly the mare was confused, angry, and maybe even frightened.  She had to defend the poor unicorn from whatever manipulation the heretic had her caught up in.

“Emberglow, I like you, and I respect you a little bit.  But for the love of Celestia, I need you to SHUT THE BUCK UP RIGHT NOW and let me talk to Rarity.  For her sake,” Heartwing growled.  He lowered his horn, glowing with a yellow light, and Emberglow could see the intent in his odd colored eyes.  She took a step back, without thinking.  “Now, please, Rarity, you’re going to want to be seated for a moment.”

Slowly, with a look of incomprehension clear on her face, Rarity sank back on her haunches and sat on the floor.

“I remember that trip you took to Manehattan.  There was an explosion at MIMT, and nopony could ever find any of the scientists, wizards, or members of the press who had been there.  Twilight was beside herself with guilt when she told us all she’d asked you there to observe and take notes, since she was at that summit with Princess Cadence.  We never found you.  We looked for years; Twilight never gave up looking for clues as to where you disappeared to.  She nearly missed Rainbow Dash’s… um…”

“Go on, darling,” Rarity prodded him.

“Nearly missed Rainbow Dash’s funeral, because she was following up on a lead.”

Rarity blinked, and shook her head.

“I—I’m sorry, but did you say, funeral?  You can’t possibly mean…”

“I wish I didn’t have to be the one to give you this news, Rarity.”

“Rainbow Dash is…”

“Not just Rainbow Dash, Rarity,” Heartwing took a deep breath, and clenched his eyes shut.  “It has been over a thousand years since you disappeared.  Everypony you knew, barring a few exceptions such as myself, has passed on centuries ago.”

“You can’t be serious,” Rarity deadpanned.  “I must say, Discord, of all your silly little jokes in the past, this one seems to be in the poorest taste.  I had quite thought you were over these immature pranks.  Now please, snap your claw and bring me back to my boutique.  I’m sure the orders are piling up as usual.”

“Rarity, I told you, this is not a prank!” Heartwing said earnestly, his ears pinned back as he stomped an angry hoof.  “I can’t ‘fix’ this.  Time has passed.  Centuries.  We didn’t know where you were.  I just happened to stumble upon you in this cave, surrounded by the roots of the Tree of Harmony and some sort of magical stasis bubble.”

“But… but you said everypony died.  That can’t be true; Twilight was an alicorn!”

“Princess Twilight’s gone too, Rarity,” Heartwing said, his voice going small.  “After… after Fluttershy passed, she needed to use the Elements to stop a grave threat, even though there was nopony to bear them except herself.  It was too much…”

“You’re lying, Discord!” Rarity stamped her hoof against the floor with fury. “You’ve always been a scoundrel, but this is too low, even for you!”

“I told you, I don’t go by that name any longer.  I’m not even… anything close to what I used to be.  I’ve lost everything I was; I’m just a pony now.  You can call me Heartwing.”

Emberglow was lost.  She had no idea what either one was talking about, but from what she could glean from the conversation, the two of them had been… adversaries of some sort?  They certainly didn’t seem on friendly terms.

“Well, ‘Heartwing’, why don’t you just let this whole ‘non-prank’ play itself out, hmm?” There was a stretched sort of quality to her voice, a strain of barely controlled anxiety.  “Tell me whatever crazy story you want, so we can all move on with our lives.”

“Very well, Rarity, but it’s not a story." Heartwing took a deep breath. "After you disappeared, we all looked.  Twilight looked for decades, whenever she had free time from her princess duties.  Starlight looked too; she became so obsessed with finding you that it tore apart her friendships.  But after so many years and so many dead ends…” Heartwing shrugged.  “Lives move on. 

"Rainbow Dash was the first to pass; it was an accident, she died saving ponies from a mudslide.  After that, we all realized the others had lost their connection to the Elements of Harmony.  It made everypony believe that you had to be alive, somewhere.  But still, nothing.  Then old age happened.  First Applejack, then Pinkie Pie.  Finally Fluttershy passed.”  Heartwing clenched his eyes shut, his face twisted with pain.  “After that, I kinda… checked out for a bit.  Spent some more time as stone.  When I finally woke up, nearly all my power was gone, drained away.  And the world?  Equestria?” Heartwing shuddered.  “This place is a nightmare.”

“Whatever do you mean, darling?”  Emberglow could hear the hint of fear in her voice.

“This mare here,” he said, gesturing with a hoof.  “…is part of a church that rules everything Celestia and Luna used to.  They call it the Holy Equestrian Diarchy.  They’re fearmongers and bigots, and they’ve been holding Equestria in their hooves for longer than I’ve been in stone.  When I woke up three centuries ago, I’ve been trying to undo everything they’ve wrecked, but they’ve got a bit of a head start.”

“It’s you!” Emberglow said, realizing just then who Heartwing was claiming to be. Her stomach roiled with disgust as she thought about all the time she’d spent with him, fighting with him, talking with him, even trusting him, just a little. “You’re the Arch Heretic!”  She shoved her way in between Heartwing and Rarity, facing off against the heretic knight.  “I don’t know who you really are, miss, or what lies this creature has told you, but he’s dangerous.  Stay behind me, I’ll get you out of whatever mess he’s tricked you into.”

“I know he’s dangerous, miss, but maybe we should…”

“You want some proof of what I’m saying?” Heartwing interrupted Rarity.  “Ask this young lady what her offered protection means for a unicorn.”

“What is he talking about?” Rarity asked from behind Emberglow.

“He’s just parroting heretic propaganda.  Unicorns are treated quite well in the Diarchy.  Once your horn is safely removed, you’ll be taken to a relocation colony, where you can live out the rest of your life in peace, with other safe unicorns.”

“Remove my… horn?” Rarity hissed.  The horror and disgust in the mare’s voice made Emberglow turn to look at her.  Rarity’s face was suffused with revulsion.  She raised a white hoof to her horn, protectively, her terrified blue eyes wide on Emberglow’s.

“It’s quite a safe and painless process,” Emberglow said, her voice reassuring.  “It really is the best way…”

“You… you threaten me with murder, and try and tell me it’s painless?  The best way?!” Rarity shrieked, backing away from Emberglow so quickly she tripped against one of the roots.  “What kind of monster are you?”

“Murder?  No, just horn removal,” Emberglow replied, confused.

“She has no idea,” Heartwing whispered mournfully.  “Very few of them do.”

“Darling, a unicorn can’t live without their horn.  Literally.” Rarity shivered with disgust.  “Some can go as long as a few months after a full amputation, but losing a horn is… terminal!”

“What?" Emberglow looked at Rarity in shock for a few moments before shaking her head. "No.  You’re wrong.  There’s whole colonies of unicorns, living safe and peaceful lives.”

“Have you ever seen one?” Heartwing countered angrilly.  “Or better yet, have you ever spoken with a hornless unicorn?  Rarity’s right about the time frame. An adult can last as long as three or four months.  Foals about half that.  Most unicorns are mutilated as babies, however.  They don’t usually last a week.” His voice slipped at the end, cracking just slightly.

Emberglow looked back and forth between the two unicorns.  There was no lie in their faces, only horror in Rarity’s, and sadness in Heartwing’s.

“But… the colonies...” Emberglow heard the blood pounding in her ears.

“Are fiction.  There are processing facilities to harvest the horns, then an unmarked mass grave.  If you need proof, I’ll take you to one.”

No.

“But that would mean…”

No.

	“If something like this were happening, somepony would know!”

No. 

“Everypony would know!”

No.

	“No!  I don’t believe you!”

Not him.

	“I don’t believe you!”

That would mean…

“You’re a liar!”

That would mean my brother  is…

	“Liar!  Heretic!”

Lucky Break is…

	“You’re lying!  Liar!”

Lucky Break is…

	“Dead!” Emberglow shrieked, sobbing.  She was trembling; no, she was shaking, her entire body tremoring as she collapsed to the root floor.  “He’s not dead!  Not dead, he can’t be dead you’re lying you’re a liar!”  

She felt like she’d been stabbed.  A wrenching, twisting pain shot through her core, and the contents of her last meal, that scanty snack of mushrooms, flowed violently out of her esophagus as she vomited onto the floor.  Choking and gasping, she vomited again, and a third time, dry heaving as she shook and sobbed.

Slowly, after an eternity, her retching subsided. There was a ringing silence in her ears — she could still faintly hear conversation, but it was just background noise against the roaring of her mind. 

Her thoughts were a maelstrom.  Horror mostly; a crushing, expansive emptiness large enough to drown her.  But there was guilt as well, for the things she’d done in the name of lies.

And how could it not be lies?  Rarity was here.  Living proof.  Emberglow’s spells, Rarity’s cutie mark; even the sad, confused sort of shock Rarity was reacting to everything with.   She tried to think, but her mind was like a sieve; she couldn’t hold onto a single complete thought.

The world spun around her, and she screwed her eyes shut.  Her mind was buzzing with thoughts that swirled and spun out in dizzying circles, skipping through memories of her life. 

Her life. What had that all meant, in the end? Her constant, undivided devotion to the Saints? The sacrifices she had made, and those that others had made? How many lives she ruined in her unthinking service to her Saints?

Lucky Break. Bubblegum and her husband and the griffon. Captain Zuberi and his daughter and his crew.

	“But they were… they were…”

Night Star.  He had a father who loved him.

“I can’t…”

...Gadget.

A loud wail echoed off of the walls of the cave.  Somepony was screaming.  Emberglow was screaming.  And in between the screams came the dry heaving, the cramping, clenching, wrenching pain of it all.  Her mouth tasted of bile again.

“This is too much.  There has to be something we can do for the poor mare.”  Rarity speaking.  Emberglow curled up in on herself.

The words continued, but Emberglow barely heard the conversation; it certainly didn’t register in her comprehension at all. She could barely hear anything at all over the buzzing in her ears.  

But as she sobbed, her throat rasping with each breath, the air like hot embers shoved down the naked tissue, she suddenly felt a gentle hoof stroking her mane.  Slowly, ever so slowly, she was pulled gently into a soft embrace; one hoof going around her, another gently stroking her hair.  The angelic voice of her comforter was singing something, Emberglow realized with surprise.  From the words, it sounded like a foal’s lullaby.  A little nonsensical, given the situation, but she found her sobs slowly becoming whimpers, then merely breaths.

“How are you feeling, darling?” the angelic voice above her asked.  Emberglow finally opened her eyes to look at Lady Rarity.  The unicorn was holding a white cloth she had found somewhere in the cerulean glow of her magic, and with a little surprise Emberglow recognized one of her bandages from her saddlebag.  Gently, Rarity used the cloth to wipe away the tears around Emberglow’s eyes, then passed the cloth to the pegasus, who managed to do some of her own cleaning.

“I’m so sorry,” Emberglow muttered, realizing how this must look.  An adult pony being snuggled like a foal in the hooves of a near complete stranger.

A very attractive, naked stranger.

She shot out of Rarity’s hooves so fast she nearly fell over.  She yelped in panic. “I’m so sorry!” she repeated.  “I’m such a wreck, you’re probably confused and traumatized and here you are having to deal with all of my issues and comforting me and I’m so embarrassed please don’t be mad…” Suddenly there was a white hoof at her lips, and Rarity was smiling gently.

“I can’t begin to understand what’s going on, darling, but I understand distress when I see it.  You needed a hug.  I was more than happy to provide.”

“I… um… but…” Emberglow stated.  Rarity continued to smile, but when Emberglow looked back at Heartwing, he had a knowing smirk on his face.  A too knowing smirk.  “Whatever you’re thinking…”

“What?” Heartwing said innocently.  “I just think you’re adorable when you’re infatuated.”

Blood flooded the vessels in Emberglow’s face, and she could see even Lady Rarity blushing a bit at Heartwing’s comment.  Emberglow made the best possible decision she could given her capacity for information processing at the moment; she hid her face in her hooves.

“Don’t tease the poor dear, Discord.  Or rather, Heartwing.  She’s going through enough as it is.”

“I was just trying to lighten the mood by changing the subject,” Heartwing said petulantly.  “Besides, you’re probably embarrassing her more than I am.”

“However do you mean, darling?” Rarity asked.

“As you are well aware, fashion changes based on fickle trends and impulses, shifting every month, sometimes every week.  Imagine, for a moment, how much fashion has changed in centuries?  Now, imagine that your own opinions on clothing and couture have been manipulated and twisted over hundreds of years to become a sort of nudity taboo.  It is now completely unacceptable to parade about in the buff, even though it was the norm back in your day.”

“Oh.  OH!”  Rarity said, sounding scandalized.  Emberglow didn’t dare look.

“Are you more upset because you’re naked, or because you’re out of fashion?” Heartwing teased.

“Nudity never really bothered me, Heartwing,” Rarity replied.  “But to commit a fashion faux pas, without even knowing the rules…” She shuddered with disgust.  “Give me that blanket.  I shall have to perform some triage, as it were.  Darling, do you mind if I borrow some of your tools from your first aid kit here?”  Emberglow didn’t trust her voice, so she just nodded.

“We might need that for survival purposes, you know…” Heartwing said.Emberglow heard a ripping noise.  “Never mind.”  There was a lot of rustling, and a few more tears, before Emberglow dared to open her eyes again.

Lady Rarity was just doing the finishing touches on a dress made entirely out of the brown wool blanket.  It was cinched about her barrel by one of Emberglow’s bandages, which had been tied in a wide bow on one side.  Holes ripped on either end for her front hooves gave the impression of a sleeveless summer dress, while the unicorn had somehow managed to use a needle and thread from Emberglow’s first aid kit to sew the front together.  She’d even taken a strip of the blanket and made it into a scarf.

“Great.  You killed my survival blanket,” Heartwing grumped.

“I didn’t kill it, darling.  I’ve given it a glorious second life,” Rarity said triumphantly, but then looked back at her handiwork.  “Well, maybe not a glorious second life, per se, but certainly much more fashionable than it was before.  I suppose it will have to do.  Miss… Emberglow, are you okay?”

“Fine, thank you.  And you didn’t have to… for me, I mean…”

“You were uncomfortable, dear.  I am more than happy to adapt,” Rarity said, her eyes twinkling as she smiled.  Emberglow could stare into those sapphires for weeks.  She shook her head violently.

“Well, now that that’s been taken care of,” Heartwing began with an eye roll.  “We have more important things to worry about.”

“Indeed.  Such as, where are we?” Rarity asked.

“The ruins of Manehattan,” Heartwing said.

“Ruins of…” Rarity gasped.

“Yeah, Manehattan.  It’s been rubble for centuries, Rarity.”

“Oh,” she replied, looking away.  There was a sadness in her gaze, and suddenly Emberglow wanted to reach out to comfort her, instead of the other way around.  She couldn’t bring herself to lift her hooves, though.  “What happened?”

“It’s a long story,” Heartwing sighed, then flinched.  “That’s a horrible cliche, isn’t it?  The short version is, things got worse.  Without--”

He cut off suddenly when he saw the stricken look that slid over Rarity’s face.  Emberglow got the feeling that Rarity was on the edge of her own meltdown.  Rarity shook her head quickly, her voice strained.  “Continue, please.  I’ll be fine.”

“Without your friends around, the situation deteriorated.  Manehatten became ground zero in  the conflict between the Diarchy, and a group of rebel unicorns.  It didn’t go well for the rebels.”  Heartwing glanced away.  

“So if the city is in ruins, why were you two here?  I get the idea that you both weren’t exactly on the same side.”

“We’re not.  As soon as I woke up from my stony prison, I discovered that my magic had been… erm… drastically depleted.  I couldn’t even snap myself a glass of lukewarm upside-down chocolate milk.  So I took the form of a unicorn and made my way about, trying to get a feel for things.  What I saw…” Heartwing shivered, and he looked angry.  “What ponies were doing to each other, and in her name…”

“Fluttershy was very dear to you,” Rarity stated softly.  Heartwing nodded, his heart in his eyes.

“I couldn’t handle it.  I had to hurt them.  How dare they torture and maim and oppress, all in Fluttershy’s name?  It was the worst blasphemy I could imagine.  At first, I wanted nothing more than to destroy them all.  I might have tried, too, if Princess Flurry hadn’t stopped me.”

“Flurry Heart is still alive?” Rarity gasped.  “That’s… at least that’s good news.”  She sounded like a drowning pony, grasping whatever desperate bright side she could.

“Of a sort,” Heartwing said, nervously rubbing one hoof against another.  “Empress Cadence is still alive as well, I think.  We don’t get along.  Flurry… reminded me that I bear some responsibility for how things turned out, and that my energies might be better spent trying to fix them.  I may have burned some bridges, metaphorically and literally, in my not-so-well-reasoned response to her reminder.  We haven’t spoken in a few centuries.  She was right, though.  I wasn’t around to stop what happened, so it’s up to me to try and fix things.  So I infiltrated the order of Holy Knights dedicated to Fluttershy, and co-opted the lot of them.  Now they work for me, and we try to undermine the Diarchy from within and without, saving as many unicorns and outcast ponies as we can.”

“You and I will have to have a longer conversation about history later,” Rarity said.  “I’d like to see more of this ruined city myself.  How do we get out of this cave?”

“There is an exit tunnel over there,” Emberglow said, grateful for the change in subject.  She didn’t want to think too hard about any of those things, just yet.  “But the problem is, there’s an angry whatsit on the other end.”

“An angry…?”

“Orthos,” Heartwing supplied.

“Oh, you mean like one of those adorable but… hrm… moist two headed puppies like Fluttershy owned for a few hours?”  Rarity asked.  Emberglow stared at her in mild surprise.  It was the same thing Heartwing had said.

“Imagine that, but twice as big, horribly mutated, and mean,” Heartwing replied.  Rarity shuddered. 

“I’d rather not, darling.  Is there any other way out?”

“I haven’t seen one,” Heartwing said.

“Have you tried asking the Tree of Harmony?” Rarity said.

“Asking the…” Heartwing began, sounding surprised.  “Rarity, it’s a tree.”

“A magical tree that apparently spoke to our students once, remember?  It claimed to evolve and grow over time.”  Rarity cleared her throat.  “Ahem, miss Tree of Harmony?  Darling, if you can hear me, I would like a word.”

“There’s no way it’s that easy,” Heartwing muttered, before a pony-shaped glow began to appear in front of them.  “Of course it’s that easy.”  

The glow was lavender, and began to take shape, with wings, a horn, and a golden crown with a red six-pointed star on top.  Its fur was lavender, and its mane purple with magenta and darker purple streaks.

“Princess Twilight!” Rarity gasped, but the figure shook its head sadly.  “Oh, that’s right.  When you spoke to our students, you took her form that time, as well.”  The figure nodded, looking sympathetic at the disappointment in Rarity’s voice.

“Time… passed… brought you back… you were needed…” the slightly glowing figure whispered softly.  All three ponies strained to hear; the translucent figure sounded weak.  “Saved you… for now.”

“You were the one who sealed me away?  Why?”

“Need… to find… the elements.  Find Elements… and new bearers.  Bring back… Harmony.  Bring back… alicorns.”

“We need to find the Elements of Harmony?  And their bearers?  Where shall we look?”

“Here,” the pseudo-Twilight said, gesturing at the three of them.  “And elsewhere.  Discord knows… where to start.”

“I do?” Heartwing mused thoughtfully.  The figure nodded.

“We need to get out of this cave, too,” Rarity said.  The Tree nodded, and its horn lit up.  A wall, made entirely of Tree roots, parted with a thousand creaks of moving wood to create an archway, revealing a path sloping upwards.  “And, darling, is there anything we can do for you?”

“You were always… my friend,” the Tree smiled.  “Didn’t… talk to you much, but… always, all of you.  Miss all of you…” a crystalline tear leaked down the Tree’s eye.  “Be safe… be happy… so proud…”  The image didn’t fade, it flickered, and then disappeared entirely.

“Oh,” Rarity said, a little sadly.  “I didn’t really ever know that she felt that way.  I suppose I did carry one of the Elements for years, off and on…”

“I think just the fact that you spoke to her personally touched her,” Emberglow said, still awed by whatever had happened.  “At least that’s the impression I got.”

“It was a kind thing she said, at least,” Rarity said.  “But what do you think she meant, that Heartwing knows where to start?  And to look ‘here’?”

“She must have known I have this,” Heartwing said, extracting a small pouch from around his neck.  Emberglow hadn’t noticed it before; he had apparently removed it surreptitiously when he removed his gambeson earlier.  With his magic, he upended the pouch into Rarity’s waiting hooves.  Out spilled a small gem, the shape of a butterfly.  It was pink.  “It… might have been a bit petty, but I couldn’t stand to let them keep it.  The idea of those monsters with their bloody hooves on Fluttershy’s element...”  Heartwing took an angry breath, then snorted.  “I stole it.”

“So we need to find a way to get the others from them, as well,” Rarity stated, as she stared at the pink butterfly gem.  Emberglow was gaping at it.  It was an Element of Harmony.  A sacred artifact straight out of scripture.  Something that Saint Fluttershy had touched.  She yearned to reach out, to touch it herself, but it didn’t feel like she belonged in this moment. 

“I think they only have two more,” Heartwing said thoughtfully.  “I have spies in the capitol, and I don’t think the Diarchy has the Elements of Loyalty or Generosity.  Last I heard, Flurry Heart had gotten ahold of Laughter.”

“But they might still have Magic and Honesty,” Rarity mused.  Heartwing shrugged, taking the Element of Kindness back with his magic and levitating it back into his pouch.  “And… who even will bear the Elements?  You said that our friends had lost their connection when… when Rainbow Dash died.”

Emberglow could see the sudden stab of pain in Rarity’s face as she stumbled over the sentence.  For a moment, she could think of nothing but sympathy and concern.  Here she was, wallowing in her own grief and misery, while this poor unicorn had just been told that everybody she ever knew and loved had passed away centuries ago.  She wondered how Rarity was managing to handle things so well.

“So we try to make contact with Flurry Heart,” Rarity said confidently.  “If that’s what we need to do to restore harmony to this world of yours, I’ll help you track down whoever the new Elements are.”  She turned to look at Emberglow.  “And you, darling?  How are you holding up?”

That was the ten-thousand-bit question, wasn’t it?  Emberglow honestly didn’t know how to answer.  Her mind was a wreck, pure scrambled eggs.  She had always been so certain, so set in her faith, and now it was a wreck around her.

“I’ve seen that look before,” Heartwing said.  “The solution is, take each day one at a time.”

“What?” Emberglow asked, confused.

“I’ve helped pick up the pieces after dozens, maybe hundreds of ponies have lost their faith.  Each pony is different, but the trick is, don’t try to take on too much at once.  Don’t try to answer every question, don’t try to think too hard about could haves, should haves, or might have beens.  Just try to answer one question at a time, take one day at a time, and eventually you’ll figure out where you fit into the world without your faith.  And for the love of Celestia, find somepony you can talk to about all this.  I’d be happy to introduce you to several dozen ponies who have gone through the exact same process you have.  The tunnel is long and dark, but there’s light on the other end.  I promise.”

It sounded like reasonable advice.  In fact, it felt like something she’d heard from Mercy Song after her issues in the Ivy Seminary.  But it was hard to hear wisdom from a heretic. Just a few days ago they’d been trying to kill one another.

If he’s right, does that mean I was on the wrong side?  Of a war?

She didn’t want it to be true. But wanting wasn’t enough.  Not any more.

One day at a time.  One step at a time.

“Darling?  Are you okay?”

She’d been breathing heavily again.

“Yeah, I…” She stopped the polite lie she was about to speak.  “No, I’m not.  But I’m trying.  Let’s get out of this cave.  I need to see the sunshine again.”  Emberglow felt more guilt.  Rarity was looking out for her.  Again.  She took initiative, making sure her saddlebag was situated on her back before moving through the archway created by the Tree of Harmony’s roots.  

“Just a moment, darlings,” Rarity said, walking over to where the Tree’s Twilight figure had been standing.  There, hidden between two roots, was the crystalline tear that the phantom had shed.  It was solid, not a projection or an image, but a real gemstone, bright blue and sparkling.  Rarity picked it up with her magic and levitated it over to Heartwing.  “Can you store this in your pouch, please?”  He nodded, and Rarity placed the gem in the pouch with the Element of Kindness.  Then she trotted off after Emberglow, the three of them moving up the uphill path out of the cave.

“I feel like I must mention how much more pleasant this cave is than the last one we were in,” Heartwing began, his tone jaunty.

“That’s a low bar to set,” Emberglow glanced at the tiny, claustrophobic cave they’d fallen out of.  

“Yes, that cave,” Heartwing said.  “This one is so much nicer.  I’ll have to thank the Tree next time we speak with her.”

“I have been meaning to ask, why were there roots of the Tree here?  In Manehattan?” Rarity asked.  “Wasn’t the tree in Ponyville?  And what’s Ponyville like now?”

“Ponyville was… um… destroyed,” Heartwing said nervously.  “All the ponies moved away, mostly to Canterlot or Manehattan.  A few years later, the folks who would eventually become the leaders of the Diarchy started building their city on top of what was left of the castle.  It’s called New Canterlot City, now.”

“Nothing survived of the original town?” Rarity asked, her voice shaking.  Heartwing shook his head.  “Oh.  I had hoped, maybe my boutique…”

“Boutique?” Emberglow asked.

“Yes, back in my day, — Rarity shuddered at the phrase — “I was quite the accomplished fashion designer.  I had shops open in Canterlot, Manehattan, and of course my home in Ponyville.  Carousel Boutique, it was called.”

“You designed and sewed dresses?” Emberglow asked.

“Yes, darling.  I wonder, what did your strange scriptures say about me?”

“Saint Rarity was the paragon of generosity.  She saw ignorant ponies going about their lives, completely naked, and dedicated her life to clothing the world.  She made dresses and gave them away to any and all who needed clothing.”

“I call that the Sparklevoice,” Heartwing said, giggling.

“Don’t be rude, Heartwing,” Rarity chided, though she was smirking slightly when Emberglow looked back at them.

“What?” she asked.

“Well, when you were giving your little… erm… expositional statement, you did sound a bit like my friend, Twilight Sparkle.  She liked to educate us rather frequently, and she had a particular tone of voice…”

“She liked to lecture,” Heartwing said, cackling.  “You can stop trying to sugar coat it.”

“Yes, well, it’s not a bad thing,” Rarity said.  Emberglow thought about it for a moment.

“So I remind you of Saint Twilight?” she asked.  “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“As you should,” Rarity stated firmly, with a quelling glare at Heartwing, who only giggled more.

The floor of the cave was flat, and the ceiling arched.  There were no more roots lining the floors or walls, but unlike the other cave rooms there was no stalactite growth or fungi.  The air was fresher, as well, without the stench of stagnant water or rotting things.  And there was certainly no sign of any orthos.  It wasn’t long before the three ponies could hear the sounds of outdoor insect life.  Finally the ponies rounded a corner in the cave and saw the starry night sky; a midnight blue blanket scattered with twinkling lights and a glowing half-moon.

“It’s… nighttime,” Heartwing stated dumbly.  “I guess I really lost track of my days in there.”

“Where are we, exactly?” Rarity asked.  Heartwing looked around at the broken, moss covered ruins, not a single one standing more than a story tall.  They were in an intersection of the streets, and Heartwing spotted a street sign on a rusted metal post, leaning at a forty-five degree angle into the intersection.

“110th and Bridleway, looks like,” Heartwing said, scraping some dirt off the sign.  Rarity gasped, spinning around in a circle, looking at the ancient decay around her.

“110th and Bridleway…” she repeated.  “My… shop, Rarity For You, was just a few blocks that direction,” she pointed towards a pile of moss-covered concrete.  “Miss Pommel  lived just a few streets that way… I stayed at a hotel with my friends, just over…” She trailed off vaguely, her hoof waving at an intact, vine draped ruin with crumbling walls.  “Oh.  Oh my!”  The unicorn plopped down in the middle of the street, weeping silently.

Emberglow understood.  Rarity had been pushing off this reaction nearly since she learned she was in the future.  Seeing the ruins of a city she was familiar with, however, had suddenly made things much more real.  All her friends were dead.  She moved towards the unicorn, but hesitated.  She was a complete stranger.  How could…

“Now would be an opportune time for hugs,” Heartwing muttered to her softly.  

Emberglow nodded, walking awkwardly over to the mare.  She reached out a shaking hoof to the purple mane, wondering if Rarity even needed comfort the way she had.  She almost stopped, preparing to back away, when a gentle shove from behind pushed her into the unicorn, her hoof going around the weeping mare’s head just like Rarity’s had for her earlier.  Emberglow stroked the silky hair, suppressing an unconscious flinch at the horn.  

“Sorry, I don’t know any lullabies,” Emberglow said softly.  “And I don’t think my voice is…” she cut off in surprise as Rarity wrapped her hooves around Emberglow’s barrel, crushing her face against Emberglow’s chest and sobbing.  The two mares held each other tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Lady Rarity.  I’m so selfish.  All that time in the cave, and I was only thinking about me, what I’ve lost, how I’ve hurt.  I didn’t even take a second to think about what you might be going through.”  Rarity shook her head, her nose rubbing against Emberglow’s fur.

“Thank you, darling,” the unicorn whispered.  “It was just… too much.  All my friends…”

“Not all of them,” Emberglow reasoned.  “You were friends with Heartwing before, right?”

“We were never as close as we should have been,” Heartwing said, standing aside to give the mares some room, but close enough to join in the conversation.  “I… I’m a different creature than I was before, Rarity, and you should know I regret how antagonistic and annoying I could be some times.”

“I just feel so hollow…” Rarity cried.  “Everything I was, everything I stood for, everypony I influenced, I loved, all for nothing.”  Emberglow tapped her gently on the head, and Rarity looked up at her, their eyes meeting.

“One day at a time, remember?” Emberglow said, and Rarity smiled tremulously.

“Those days might be much easier to deal with if one can still find a source of chocolate ice cream,” Rarity managed with a weak giggle.  She squeezed Emberglow one more time before backing away.  “Thank you, darling.  I needed that.”

“I think Emberglow was just looking for an excuse to touch you again,” Heartwing teased, and Emberglow shot him a glare before she looked at Rarity’s face, which was… speculative.  Curious.  Emberglow’s heart beat faster.

“And thank you, you lout, for ruining such a tender moment,” Rarity said, also glaring at the other unicorn.  But the speculative look remained when she glanced back at Emberglow.  Emberglow’s stomach felt fluttery.

“S-so now that we’re out, what do we do?” Emberglow stuttered.  Nice smooth subject change, there, genius.  You’ve known this mare for all of two hours, and you’re already crushing this hard?  She shook her head to clear it. 

“I’ll signal for my people to come find us,” Heartwing hesitated.  “Emberglow… there’s a place for you among my people.  If you want it.” Emberglow froze.  

Did she want to?  Leave her family, her faith, and her people behind to follow a heretic?  She was fairly certain she was a heretic now, as well, but... still.

“There are ponies I care about, back in New Canterlot City. And questions I need answers to.  I want to stay with you,” with Rarity… “…but I have some things I want to know first.”

“You’re going back?  Emberglow, you know they’ll arrest you if you start asking the wrong questions,” Heartwing said.  “I doubt we can rescue you if they arrest you for heresy, then it’s a black bag over your head as you disappear into a Knights Mystic facility forever.”

“I know how to be subtle,” Emberglow said, then glared at Heartwing when he snorted.  “I know what questions not to ask.  But I can’t just leave.  My friends and family are there; I need to figure some things out.  How do I… find you and your people when I’m done?”

“Our agents use dead drops in New Canterlot City.  I’ll give you the location of a few of them.  When you know you want to get out, and come find me again, leave a note at one of my dead drops, and you will be contacted.”

“What if I’m being followed?”

“Then whoever’s following you will report you to the Mystics, and you’ll probably be arrested for heresy,” Heartwing said bluntly.  “This is a bad idea.”  Emberglow said nothing, and Heartwing sighed.  “How are you even going to get back to your people?”

“Wings, remember?  I can’t fly at full capacity, but I’ll be able to get into the air, at least.”  She flapped her wings experimentally.  Surprisingly, there was no pain, only a bit of stiffness.  “Send your signal; I’ll wait with the two of you until your people come to pick you up.”

“Already did.  While you two were snuggling, I sent up an infrared signal with my horn.  I have a few spotters out there watching with the proper enchantments to see.  It’s only a matter of seconds before…”

“Heartwing!” came a baritone voice from the sky.  A dark figure landed next to the three ponies, and the two mares yelped in surprise.  Heartwing looked chagrined, sheepishly glancing at the pegasus who had just touched down in their midst.  “You’re safe!  You’re alive!”

The pegasus was nearly impossible to see in the dark; his fur was black, with a silver mane and tail.  He wore Knight armor just like Heartwing’s, with Fluttershy’s cutie mark painted on the flank.  A large barreled firearm was strapped across his back.  He paused, looking at the two mares warily.

“They’re safe, Termie,” Heartwing said.  With a nod, the pegasus stallion stepped over to Heartwing, and with one quick motion had wrapped his hooves around the other in a tight hug, complete with a joint nuzzle so tender Emberglow nearly blushed and turned away.

“I told you so, sir,” the pegasus said, burying his face in Heartwing’s mane.  He was about three inches taller than the unicorn.  “I said you shouldn’t go, that it was too dangerous.”  The relieved sounding stallion kissed his slightly smaller coltfriend, running his lips down the other’s ear and kissing at his cheeks, his lips, and his chin, with the franticness of snapped tension.  Heartwing put up with the attention patiently, his lips sliding up in a soft smile that Emberglow had never seen before.  “You worried me to death, sir.”

“I told you, you don’t have to call me sir,” Heartwing muttered, slightly embarrassed, though the gentle smile stayed.  He kissed the new stallion back on the nose, before pushing away.  “I want you to meet some ponies, Termie.”

“This is Lady Emberglow, Knight Radiant,” he said, pointing with a hoof.  “She’s experiencing a bit of a crisis of faith right now, so I wouldn’t expect her to try to kill you.”  Emberglow rolled her eyes.  “And this is Rarity.  Rarity, Emberglow, meet Terminus Flash.  He’s very special to me.”

“Rarity?” Terminus said, his mouth open in shock.  “You mean, Rarity?  THE Rarity?”

“The readings of Harmony magic  we were getting on the spectrometers?  Probably the stasis spell that was keeping her alive all these years,” Heartwing said.  Terminus stared.

“Oh please,” Rarity said, blushing and fluttering her eyelashes as she stepped forward to shake Terminus’ hoof in greeting.  “I’m not as special as all that.”

“I know I’ve come to expect the strange and supernatural when Heartwing is around, but…” Terminus said, trailing off.  “I’m shaking a Saint’s hoof.  I stopped believing in you twelve years ago, you know.  Should I apologize for that?”

“If it helps, I had no idea about all this ‘saint’ nonsense until about two hours ago,” Rarity said.  “So, you and Mr. Heartwing…?” she asked, her voice raising inquisitively with a twinkle in her eye.  

“We’ll have time for gossip later,” Heartwing rolled his eyes.  “Termie, you have a bus on the way?”

“Yes, sir, I radioed it in as soon as I saw the signal.  Wasn’t expecting more than one pony, so it might be cramped if Miss Emberglow can’t fly.”

“Emberglow won’t be joining us, unfortunately,” Heartwing said, and Terminus eyed the pegasus mare, his gaze turning hostile in a heartbeat.

“Going back?” he asked dangerously.

“Nothing like that, I hope,” Heartwing said.  Emberglow nodded.

“I just have some questions I need to ask,” Emberglow said, and Terminus’ hostile look became a skeptical one.

“Well, it was nice knowing you, I guess,” he said.

“Bus?” Rarity asked.

“Pegasus-pulled chariot,” Heartwing asked.  “Good for transporting us non-winged ponies.”  He turned to Emberglow.  “You’re sure I can’t convince you to come with us?  I’m sure I wouldn’t be the only pony who’d appreciate your presence.”  He eyed Rarity significantly, who was scanning the sky, watching for the approaching ‘bus’.  

“I need to sort some things out,” Emberglow told him.  “I promise I will try to leave a message at one of your dead drops.”

“Where do you plan on going?”

“I have a friend, a noble pony who lives in a manor outside of New Canterlot City.  I have to confirm something with my old mentor.  I have to know how much he knew…” she trailed off.  “I’m sure my friend will let me stay with him while I find Sir Steadfast.”

“Are you familiar with the Tirek’s Fall monument outside of the city?” Heartwing asked, and Emberglow nodded.  “In the park around the monument, there’s a bench next to two willow trees that grew up tangled next to each other.  There’s a public trash can next to the bench.  Put a note for me in the little hollow underneath the trash can.  Somepony will find it, and we’ll find a way to contact you.”

“I will.  Thank you, Heartwing.  I’ll wait with you ponies until your ride gets here, then I’ll start to make my way back to New Canterlot City.”

It took only a couple more minutes for the chariot to show up.  Drawn by two pegasi, it was an open carriage, with benches on two sides.  The pegasi, not Knights, were harnessed to the front.  They came to a gentle landing in front of the four ponies.

“Glad you’re alive, sir,” one of them said, saluting Heartwing.  “All aboard, we’d like to get out of here as quick as possible.  There’s still Diarchy forces about.”

“Sounds good.  Everybody who’s going, board up.”

“Um, Rarity?  Before you go, I have a favor to ask,” Emberglow asked nervously.  “I need to borrow your dress.”
> Epilogue for Part One: Stealing Laughter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Epilogue to Part One: Stealing Laughter


The hallway was a familiar one, but Topaz Glitter walked down it with trepidation, each hooffall echoing an uncomfortable amount of noise through the crystalline hallways of the Crystal Palace.  She was jumpy.  Really jumpy.  Every time one of her hoofsteps echoed across the hallway, she flinched, forcibly restraining herself from glancing behind her to look for guards.  It wasn’t as if she was doing anything wrong…

Okay, that was a lie.  She knew that even though Princess Flurry hadn’t technically banished her from the palace, it was what the princess had meant.  But she really desperately needed advice, and there was only one pony she felt like she could confess her deepest crimes to.  

She really hoped that Escher was on duty.  Her roommate hadn't been at home, but she also didn’t memorize his schedule.  He could be out on a date, or bar hopping, or any number of places.  She really hoped he wasn’t.

Nopony came to toss Topaz out of the palace as she made her way to the Empress’ Vault.  She passed a few servants, but either they didn’t know of her recent altercation with the alicorn monarch, or they didn’t care to get involved. She’d been hoping that she could have gotten away with a little trip through the palace without being noticed, but that had clearly been a foolish hope. There were lots of bedrooms and guest rooms on the way to the Vault, after all.  

She rounded the final turn that led to the Vault and breathed a silent sigh of relief.  Escher was on duty.  His red and black carapace stood out against the purple and blue crystal of the palace walls.  When he saw her coming, his orange insect-like eyes narrowed dangerously.  He glanced at his fellow guard, a crystal pony wearing the silver armor typical of the Palace Guard.  The crystal pony shifted his stance and readied his spear, preparing to bar her way.

“Topaz…” Escher began with a resigned sigh, turning back to her.  “What are you doing here?”

“You heard what she said, Escher!” Topaz said quickly, wishing she didn’t sound so panicked.  “She never said I was banned from the castle!”

“Yes, yes, Princess Flurry Heart only banished you from her sight,” the changeling guard replied, rolling his eyes.  “I was there, remember?  But you know what she meant, Topaz.  She would not be happy to find you here.”

“Good thing she’s not here then,” Topaz said cheerfully.  “C’mon, Escher.  You know I’m harmless.  I need to go through.  Escher, it’s important.”

“I can’t do it, Topaz.  I have my orders.”

“You were ordered, specifically, to disallow me entry to the Vault?” Topaz asked.  Escher hesitated.  “Exactly.  She probably forgot all about it after she banished me.  In fact, I’m guessing the princess didn’t leave any standing orders about me at all, did she?”

“Only that we were supposed to toss you in a cell if you broke your banishment,” the crystal pony chimed in.  Escher glared at him.

“Thanks, Tigerseye.  I was really hoping to not have to throw my best friend and roommate in a cell tonight.”

“No, that’s perfect,” Topaz coaxed the two of them.  “Since the technical wording of her banishment was that I couldn’t enter her sight, and she’s not here, I haven’t broken any rules.  Please?”  She tried to open her eyes as wide as she could, going full puppy-dog treatment on her closest and dearest friend.  She could even see the exact moment he caved.

“It’s on your head, Topaz Glitter.  And I’m going to clarify things with my commander so you can’t use this loophole again, hear?  I won’t have you risking getting thrown in jail just because you can’t let go of your arguments with the princess.”

“Thank you thank you THANK YOU!” Topaz gushed, dashing forward to hug the changeling so quickly that his guard partner nearly leveled his spear towards her.  Escher rolled his bug eyes and pushed her away so he could open the heavy stone door that led inside the Vault.

“Don’t be long.  I’m not bailing you out of jail if you get yourself caught, okay?  You can pay your own bail money, you silly filly.”

“You’re the best ‘ling ever!” Topaz sang as she slipped inside the room.  Escher just shook his head.

“Knock when you want out, okay?” he said as he closed the door behind her.  

Topaz looked ahead at the long, familiar hallway and immediately relaxed, feeling instantly at home.  She loved this well-lit hallway, with its soft, inviting purple carpet and the glowing crystal torches on the wall.  She trotted down the hallway, her gait lightening with every step.  

The end of the hallway opened into a vast throne room.   On the west end of the room was a shrine to the Prince of the Empire, the revered Shining Armor.  Eternally burning candles surrounded a bronze bust of the stallion, his gaze both kind and stern.  On the east end was a second shrine, complete with its own bust of the legendary Princess Twilight Sparkle, Prince Armor’s sister.  Topaz ignored them as she approached the platform, where a single figure slumped on a raised platform, covered with beautiful satin pillows.

“Hey, great grandma,” Topaz said, giggling at her own joke.  It was only an accurate title if you added about a hundred ‘greats’ to great grandma.  The figure on the pillowed platform didn’t stir.  She almost never did.

The Empress Mi Amore Cadenza was wraith-thin, with sunken cheeks and visible ribs.  Large dark blotchy bags sat under each closed eye, showing a thousand years’ worth of exhaustion.  Her forehooves were clutched around Ocellus’ Apparatus, the magical artifact that served as both a power source and a willing prison for the Empress.  It allowed her to feed off the love of her willing subjects, while in turn feeding that power into the colossal shield that blocked the Crystal Empire off from the rest of the world.

As foals, everypony got to take turns coming before the powerful alicorn mare.  It was one of the greatest privileges to serve the Empress, at that age.  The walls around the shrines, and behind the platform, were covered, plastered in hoof drawn pictures made by the foals of the Empire, as well as the changeling nymphs, Diamond Dog puppies, and yak calves who came to meet the Empress and bathe her in their love and adoration.  Everypony, and everyling and every pup and yak, loved the Empress for the sacrifice she made for them all.    

Most foals grew out of the experience as they aged, however, and few of the adults visited except on rare occasions.  Topaz Glitter was one of the few who bothered to keep visiting the Empress once they graduated from elementary school.

“I argued with your daughter again, Empress,” Topaz confessed as she knelt below the platform.  The withered pink alicorn did not stir.  “I think I went too far this time.  I’m sorry, I just can’t help myself.  She’s wrong.  She’s wrong and she won’t see it.”  

The Empress didn’t move or speak, and Topaz sighed.  “I’m sorry.  I know it’s a little rude to rehash the argument in front of you, but I have to vent.”  Topaz rubbed at her eyes with her hooves.  “She still won’t intervene.  Things are getting worse for the poor ponies down south.  We’ve been locked away for a thousand years, and we’ve been doing nothing.  I just feel like we should be doing more.  Like, I feel it in my cutie mark, if that makes sense.”

It didn’t, but since the Empress never spoke back, it didn’t matter.  Some ponies said she didn’t hear when others spoke.  Topaz knew differently.  She knew that the Empress heard every word, because once, when she was a tiny foal, Empress Cadenza had spoken to her.  Nopony believed her, but she knew.  She would remember that moment till the day she died.

“It doesn’t really matter why we argued, I guess,” Topaz said.  “In the end, Princess Flurry became so angry she banished me from her presence.  I don’t blame her, not really.  I crossed a line.  I was rude, in front of her entire court.  I called her a coward.”  Topaz flinched.  She still felt horrible about that.  “It was a mistake.  I’ll apologize the very next chance I get.  I know what kind of burdens she carries.  She looks so worn some days.  I wish there was something more I could do.

“So this is probably the last time I’ll be coming to visit for a while,” Topaz confessed.  “I don’t think the guards will let me back in so easily next time.  Even Escher.  You remember me telling you about him?  He’s one of the guards outside your door.  He’s a changeling, and he’s amazing.  My very best friend and roommate.”  She was getting off topic, she knew, but a nagging voice inside her head said that maybe she should just run.  Leave.  After what she was about to confess, maybe even Empress Cadenza would hate her.

“So after we argued, I was angry.  Furious.  I was madder than I’d ever been before, so I think I might have done something stupid.  Colossally stupid.  I mean, imagine the stupidest thing you could think of, and then quadruple that.  It was because of something Princess Flurry said.  Well, maybe not what she’d said, but something she hinted at.  She told me I was a fool, and immature, and if I possessed the information she did, I wouldn’t believe the way I did.  It struck me as so arrogant, so heavy-hoofed, that I was convinced in that moment she was hiding something from me.  I don’t know why.  So, uh, I broke into Shining Armor’s room.”

There was a twitch.  The Empress’ ears perked towards her, and Topaz nearly panicked.  Well, at least she had the Empress’ attention.

“I was going to break into her office! But uh, I’ve never been inside either room, so I got the two confused.  When I got inside, there was a chest.  On the dresser.  The room hasn’t been touched in centuries, Empress.  Maids go in to clean it, but nothing else.  I nearly turned to flee when I realized I was in the wrong room.  But the chest… called to me.  Something inside was glowing.  It was blue.  I might have maybe walked over and opened the little chest.”

A second ear twitch.  Topaz’ breath caught in her throat.

“I saw the letter inside.  I didn’t read it!” Topaz insisted.  “I did see who it was from, though.  And who it was to.  And then I saw what was glowing beneath it.  A gem, a perfect, beautiful, blue gemstone shaped like a balloon.  I… Empress, please forgive me.  I touched it with my hoof.  I couldn’t help myself.”  She reached back to her saddlebags, extracting a small blue gem.  Only this one wasn’t shaped like a balloon.

“As soon as I touched it, I saw a vision.  I don’t know if it was real or not, Empress.  I don’t know what to believe.  But I think it was real.”

“I was on a pathway made of stars.” Topaz’s voice filled with wonder as she remembered the images from her vision, the sheer incalculable vastness that had surrounded her.  “There was an earth pony there.  Light pink, with a dark pink mane, and balloons for a cutie mark.  She said her name was Pinkie Pie, and she was passing the gem on to me.  She said she’d been watching me, that ‘I was gonna do a great job’, and to be sure to turn every frown upside down that I possibly could.  She said I was worthy.  When I woke up, the gem looked like this.”  She held out the blue gem.  It was now shaped like a half-sunburst, a mirror image of Topaz Glitter’s half-sunburst cutie mark.

“I’ll give it to you, if you want,” Topaz said, trying not to hyperventilate.  “I didn’t quite understand what Pinkie was talking about, but I think she meant great things for me.  I’m scared, Empress. I don’t know what all this means.  You’re the only pony I can talk to.  Please?  I know you barely speak to anypony, but just this once if you could help me with this, I’ll be forever grateful.”

That got the biggest reaction of all.  No mere ear twitch this time.  Instead, to Topaz’ utter shock, the emaciated royal’s eyes slid open, her lips pulling back in the first smile she’d probably smiled in centuries.  It was a radiant smile, full of joy and hope.

“My little pony,” whispered her raspy voice, hoarse from centuries of unuse.  “Things are about to get very interesting for you.”
> Chapter 24
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Part Two: Flickering Flames Become the Bonfire that Rewrites History



Chapter 24


Interdepartmental Memos between Sir Steadfast Word and Lady Speculum Shine, High Inquisitors

            Hey Specs-

            I need access to the file of one Oak Chips.  He was arrested a few months ago, I think.  A friend of mine is doing me a favor, and she asked me about him. I promised her I’d look into it.

            Steadfast





            Steadfast-

            You have no idea what you’re asking for.  You’re going to have to disappoint your friend, there’s no way this could get out.  At all.  Are you familiar with the Jabbernote document?  The secret journal that Knights Vigilant read just after taking their oaths?  I’ll copy the relevant passage to you, but the here’s the summary.  Whatever Sir Jabbernote is talking about, your ‘Oak Chips’ was one of those things.  What Jabbernote calls a ‘face stealer’.  And whatever it was, it escaped.  There’s no way I can justify letting this get out of our control.  Sorry.  You’ll have to come up with some other favor for your friend.

            Specs





            Dear Specs-

            Thanks for the heads up, but don’t worry about it.  My friend, Lady Emberglow of the Radiant, has been declared missing in action during combat against heretics during the Manehatten mission.  Looks like I won’t need that file at all.

            Steadfast

Excerpt from the ‘Jabbernote Document’, holy secret of the Knights Vigilant

            We lost seven Knights trying to take Sunset Shimmer.  The mare was a demon, fighting off a dozen Knights at a time.  I’m amazed I even survived.  At first I was worried she was something else.  Some sort of horrific creature taking pony form, hiding among us.  Once we had her under control, and her horn subdued by those artifacts the Mystics provided for us, we did every test we could, every spell, every investigation, to make sure she was a pony.  Sir Microview even looked at the structure of her blood.  When we arrived in New Canterlot City, we were absolutely sure we had the pony Sunset Shimmer in our custody, ready for execution.  Our magic alone should have revealed an imposter using illusion magic, or a creature that could change its shape.  It revealed nothing more than an angry, bitter unicorn mare.

            I was tasked, alongside four of my brothers, to bring Sunset Shimmer to the place of her execution.  Her cell was secure; the spell I placed on the door had not been broken.  There was no window.  Nopony had entered the cell, or exited the cell.  Yet when I opened the door to retrieve the prisoner, something was wrong.  It wasn’t the same pony.  I cast the spell again, designed to reveal illusion magic.  Nothing.  I cast the spell that would reveal a shapeshifted creature.  That’s when the prisoner changed.  It wasn’t Sunset Shimmer any longer.  It was something else.

            The creature was insectoid in nature, though still shaped conventionally like a pony, with a long muzzle and four hooves.  Rather than skin or fur, it was covered in a carapace, brightly colored red and black.  It’s eyes lacked pupils, appearing almost like the compound eyes of an insect.  It had a horn, though it was curved and forked, not like a unicorn’s.  It laughed at us when we entered.

            “I win, ponies.  Sunset lives,” it said, then lunged at me.  It’s carapace in the back split wide to reveal thin, delicate wings like a dragonfly’s.  I’m afraid to say that we were unable to take the creature alive.  It fought to the death, and we were forced to destroy it.  I have no idea how it got into that cell, or how Sunset got out.  But the Mystic can never know, at least not until I’m dead.  My failure won’t matter; the Mystics can’t torture a corpse.

            We still needed somepony to publicly execute, but that was a simple matter.  A dumb back alley prostitute, drugged and fitted with the right illusion, provided the frothing crowd with all the scapegoat they needed for the beheading.  I found out later there was a loose end, a foal, but the Mystics would never notice one more earth pony foal’s corpse in the piles of de-horned unicorns they mass buried after our victory in Manehatten.  No great loss.

            Whatever ‘face stealer’ replaced Sunset Shimmer, we have to be vigilant for.  I scoured the records, the secret versions of the Saint’s histories, everything we had from that time period.  There was nothing I could find.  History was far too clean of references to creatures that could steal a pony’s form with magic.  I suspect something infiltrated our numbers with the express intent of scrubbing these things from history.  Ponies will call me paranoid for that, but this has been my obsession in the decades following the execution of ‘Sunset Shimmer’.  I find no evidence that there are any remaining, but we have to watch for these things.  Someday, they’ll decide to come back.

1112 AF, Ruins of Manehatten

             Rarity and Heartwing watched Emberglow fly away, wearing Rarity’s brand new blanket-turned-dress creation.  Not one of her better pieces, to be sure, but she had the excuse of working under pressure with nearly no materials.  Even genius required decent materials.

“Will she be okay?” she worried, her eyes tracing after the strange mare.  Rarity didn’t even have the beginnings of a handle on the whole situation herself, but she felt quite sorry for Emberglow.  The poor girl was clearly going through a difficult time.

            “Normally I’d say no,” Heartwing replied.  The two of them rode in the back of the pegasus drawn chariot.  Heartwing’s coltfriend, Terminus, flew nearby, prepared to guard the bus from any attacks or danger.  “The Diarchy’s inquisitors are quite perceptive and persistent.  Our new friend is flying into a veritable lion’s den.”

            “But there's something different about Emberglow?” Rarity prompted.

            “There’s something special about that mare.  I feel the stirrings of destiny about her,” he said.  Rarity gave a sharp snort of laughter.  “What?”

            “That sounds so bizarre, coming in your voice.  The Discord I know never would have said anything about the 'stirrings of destiny',” Rarity said, eyeing him uncomfortably.  It was disconcerting, she realized, to be having such a serious discussion with a pony using Discord’s voice.  It was a voice more suited to the lightning-fast flashes of absurd costume changes and gratingly out of place prop summoning than the thoughtful, serious unicorn who stood in front of her.

            “Would it sound better if I say I think she has a role to play in all this?” he waved a hoof vaguely, and Rarity pursed her lips.  “The Tree said we should start our search for new Element Bearers right in that cave.  So unless there was a fourth pony hidden where I couldn’t see…” he trailed off.

            “You think Miss Emberglow may be one?” Rarity asked.  Heartwing shrugged.

            “I don’t know her well enough to say,” Heartwing said carefully.  Rarity sensed an evasion.

            “Oh?” she shot back casually.  “Surely you have some idea.  You spent quite some time with her in that cave, didn’t you?”

“Some idea? Perhaps. Or perhaps not,” Heartwing hemmed, his mouth curled with scepticism. There was a little bit of hesitation in his voice.

“You don’t like her?” Rarity guessed.

            “That’s not it.” Heartwing shook his head.  “I just don’t know where she stands.  What she’s loyal to, now that her faith has been shaken.  I don’t know her, and knowing I might have to rely on her for something as big as wielding an Element of Harmony makes me nervous.”

“I… suppose so.” Rarity could certainly see where he was coming from — it was difficult to trust a pony on the enemy’s side, no matter how good she seemed. Still… “She’ll come around. She has a good heart, that one. It’s just a little confused at the moment, the poor dear.”

“I hope so,” Heartwing said doubtfully. “You can never really tell, truthfully. Some ponies turn to us after losing their faith, while others — well.” He paused, shaking his head. “Anyway, no point speculating about it now. At the very least, we have a bearer of Generosity on our side.” He smiled slightly at her.

She didn’t respond for a long moment. Heartwing’s comment hit upon something that had been weighing on her mind since he had told her about what had happened in her absence, and now it gnawed at her with an insistent dread upon her heart.

“Actually,” she said, finally, stutteringly, “That was something — I mean, do you really think that I —  after all this time, that is — do you really think that the Element will still... “ she trailed off.  The Element of Generosity didn’t define her, not really.  But it had played such a huge part of her life.  The idea that it might no longer be hers to bear was unsettling.

            Heartwing gazed at her, then sighed softly, before letting his gaze drift away. “...let’s worry about that when we come to it.”  The evasion wasn’t subtle.  Rarity glanced at him sharply, but he refused to meet her eyes.  There was something inscrutable in his own look, something distant and worried.  His lips were pursed tightly.  It was as blatant as a closed door.  With nothing better to do, she followed his gaze, looking out over the ruins bathed in moonlight.

The silence around them was deafening, now that the sounds of conversation had faded. An awful stillness hung in the air, so much unlike the busy city the place had once been. A memory stirred, of Twilight describing an alternate timeline of grey skies and empty deserts and cold, lifeless wind.

            “It’s so…dead,” Rarity whispered.  She remembered the city when it had produced enough electric light to outshine the moon and stars.  She imagined she could hear the bustling of ponies going about their business, the laughter of friends and customers alike in her shop...

She felt herself teetering on the edge of a deep, dark pit as her throat clenched with the beginnings of a sob. Gone.  It was all gone.  They were all gone.  The thousands of ponies who had lived here, worked here, shopped and played and loved here.  She felt herself trembling, and wrapped her hooves around herself against the cold of the wind blowing past them.

“Are you okay?” Heartwing asked solicitously.  “I could—”

“I’m fine,” Rarity said reflexively. “Just, it’s a little cold out here isn’t it?”

 Heartwing was looking at her with obvious concern in his eyes, but she turned away, staring defiantly out into the ruins.  Shaking her head, she took a deep breath. Not now. She couldn't deal all with this now.

She shoved it all deep.  Whatever was happening, she could handle it.  She was strong.  She was Rarity!  She’d owned and managed three boutiques at once, all while saving the world multiple times and more-or-less raising her sister.  She could handle a little shake-up in her circumstances.  As long as she buried it away deep enough.

“You know, Rarity,” he began, slowly, like he was considering every word, “you seem like you’re taking all this very well.”

“Why thank you, Discord—”

“Heartwing.”

“—Heartwing,” she said primly. “But a proper lady is always unflappable.”

“Yes, unflappable indeed,” he mused. “A little bit too unflappable, in fact.” His tone was casual, almost offhanded, but his sharp eyes betrayed a glint of understanding. “Are you sure you—”

“I’m fine!” Rarity snapped back, before biting her tongue.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

She turned with a deep breath and a winning smile on Heartwing, which he returned with a worried frown. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be short with you. I’ll manage.”

            “Rarity, I’m worried about you,” he said abruptly.  Rarity frowned, surprised at the sudden frankness in his tone.  “You’re not acting like yourself.”

            “Whatever do you mean, darling?” Rarity asked him.

            “Well,” he began, “you’re not whining about how dirty you are, you haven’t yet complained about a lack of access to fine dining, your mane and tail are a mess and you haven’t said a word.  You’re not lamenting the lack of a bath or a mirror.” Rarity flinched with every addition to the list.

            “W-well, all of that may be true, b-but…”

            “Rarity, wait, please.  I’m worried about you, really,” Heartwing said again.  His tone was more serious than she’d ever heard before.  It was odd and alien to hear that voice so solemn, and it made her pause and really consider what he was saying.  “I know it’s going to take time, but for now, I think it might be best if you sleep.”

            “Sleep?  Here?” Rarity asked incredulously.

            “I’ll cast a spell on you that will put you to sleep,” Heartwing explained.	

            “But darling, I just slept.  For nearly a thousand years, if what you say is true.”

            “Your brain needs time to catch up to this.  I’d really like it if you took some time to rest.”  Heartwing smiled humorlessly.  “I won’t be convinced you’re back to your old self until I hear at least one decent hissy fit about the state of your mane.”

            “Are you suggesting a lady can’t change?  Mature?  Grow beyond her bad habits?” Rarity asked archly.  Heartwing simply raised an eyebrow and looked at her silently, his expression blank with disbelief.  They held their little staring contest for a few pregnant seconds before Rarity blushed and dipped her head.  “Very well.  Cast your spell.”

            Rarity knew he was right.  She wasn’t feeling herself.  Oh, she’d cried before, sobbed her eyes out when she'd seen the absolute ruin that was Manehatten.  But overall, she just felt a bit… numb.

            Heartwing’s horn lit with a gentle yellow light, and Rarity felt the magic slip over her.  It was like a liquid blanket, covering her in softness from nose to tail.  She felt her eyelids and ears droop instantly, and Heartwing caught her in gentle hooves and lowered her to the floor of the chariot.

            “Rest well, Rarity,” Heartwing whispered as Rarity slipped off into slumber.  “We’ll talk more in a few hours.”

            Though perhaps restful, Rarity’s sleep was not dreamless.  Some part of her mind had expected some sort of nightmare.  Instead she dreamt of a pleasant afternoon at a classic Canterlot café, sipping tea with Princess Celestia.  The Princess kept trying to say something, but every time she opened her mouth she would be interrupted by the sound of a bell.  It was both rather frustrating and oddly relaxing at the same time, especially when a pony-sized Opalescence pranced up to bus their empty teacups.


*   *   *   *   *


            Rarity woke with a shiver as a cold breeze tickled her fur, wondering if perhaps she’d left her window open.  Or perhaps it was another of Rainbow Dash’s ill-conceived pranks.  She ought to give the pegasus a piece of her mind.  Maybe…

            A second inhale brought the scent of sea air, which confused her for a second.  Ponyville wasn’t anywhere near an ocean.  How could she be…?

            Oh. Rarity opened her eyes with a jolt.  She was still in the chariot, though the sun was up.  Heartwing still sat next to her in the chariot, his gaze fixed somewhere in front of her.  She sat up, expecting the groggy sensation of waking after a long rest.  Instead, she felt rested, if rather famished.

            “You’re awake.  Good.  We’re almost home,” Heartwing said.  She glanced at the two creatures pulling the chariot.  At some point while she’d been asleep, the two pegasus drivers had switched out and were flying alongside the chariot to rest. Now the vehicle was being pulled by the stallion named Terminus, and a griffon in polished silver armor, of all things.  “You’ve met Terminus,” Heartwing said.  “The griffon is Cobalt.  He’s my second in command, and a good friend.”

            “Good morning, Lady Rarity,” the griffon in question called back.  Rarity was impressed at the politeness in his greeting, considering that he was currently driving their chariot.  “I hope you are well rested.”

            “Despite the accommodations, yes,” Rarity said.  “But I don’t suppose we have anything for breakfast?”

            “We’ll be home within a half hour,” Heartwing said.  “There will be food.”

            “Now I don’t want to come off as too particular, Heartwing,” Rarity began hesitantly.  “But what kind of food?”  

Heartwing laughed. “Now I know you’re feeling better,” he said.  “Don’t worry.  Our fare is simple, but we have some amazing cooks.  And before you ask, we have baths, combs and brushes to your heart’s content, and definitely shampoo.”

            “Lovely,” Rarity said with a blush.  She had been about to ask.  “So where is home?”

            “Don’t you recognize where we are?” Heartwing teased.  Rarity nervously looked out over the edge of the chariot.  Ever since certain incidents involving conjured wings that didn’t bear remembering or thinking about, Rarity had been a bit hesitant about heights.

            “Sorry, I didn’t take much time to look,” she said back at him, a bit of perturbed heat in her voice.  They were on a coastline somewhere.  To their right was a rocky beach, and to the left was a vast ocean.  The beach did look familiar; the shape of it had changed significantly, but she recognised the sharply pointed mountain jutting out of the shoreline.  She stared at the familiar landmark approaching.  “Mount Aris?  That’s where you live?  What about the hippogriffs?”

            “While I was stone, and things started to get really bad with the Diarchy, the hippogriff queen decided to take a page out of Novo’s book.  She used the pearl to transform them all into seaponies again.  They’ve relocated to an ocean grotto on the other side of the Zebrican continent.  When I started my little rebellion, I asked permission to turn their abandoned city into my headquarters.  They had no use for it, so they agreed.  I still exchange letters with the current hippogriff queen on occasion.  They are isolated, but at peace.”  There was a heartbreaking sort of longing in his voice that caught Rarity’s attention.

“Heartwing.”  She laid a hoof on his shoulder.  “What is it?”

He sighed. “Tell me something, Rarity.  When you had to go off with your friends for the umpteenth time, carrying the Elements of Harmony into another impossible battle that you were all totally unequipped to handle with the weight of the whole world on your shoulders, did you ever want to give up and go take a nap?  Like a really long one?”

“Every time, darling,” she breathed.  “But it didn’t matter.  Why?”

“I’ve been at war for centuries now, Rarity.  I’m not sure I remember what peace feels like.”  The far off look in his face carried the weight of years.  Years, Rarity realized, that she’d been asleep for.

            “I’ve missed so much,” she whispered out loud, so softly she was sure the passing wind would steal away the words before Heartwing could hear.  His sympathetic look, however, told her otherwise.

            “I’ll answer all the questions you have, tell you everything you want to know.  But please be patient,” Heartwing said.  “It’s going to take time to come to terms with everything that has changed.  And… as soon as we get back, I won’t be able to help you right away.  I have some business I have to attend to.”

            “You’re talking about the list, aren’t you, sir?” Terminus Flash asked from the front of the chariot.  His voice was disapproving.  “Sir, you don’t have to…”

            “No.  It’s my responsibility.”

            “But sir, I’m sure you’d like to spend some time with your friend.  Just this once I could…

            “No, Terminus!” Heartwing barked, sounding annoyed.  “I’m not having this argument with you again.  I’ll handle the list.  Would you give Miss Rarity the grand tour?”

            “What is this list?” Rarity asked.  Everypony went silent.

            “The casualty list," Terminus finally said. "Our esteemed leader thinks it’s his personal responsibility to inform the family of everypony killed in battle.”

            “Because it is,” Heartwing insisted.  Terminus flicked his tail angrily, but didn’t argue further.

            “...s-so,” Rarity stammered.  “There’s a tour?”  It wasn’t the most graceful of subject changes, but it was the best she could come up with under pressure.

            “Terminus is the best at helping ponies who are dealing with the emotional trauma of losing their faith,” Heartwing explained.  “Part of that process is spending the first few days helping the pony get acclimated to our way of life.  We call it ‘the tour’.  He’ll be your main point of contact for whatever you need over the next few weeks.”

            “And then what?” Rarity asked.

            “That’s the first piece of advice I have for new ponies,” Terminus called back over the rushing wind.  “Sometimes it’s too much to think about the future.  Sometimes we need to just take one day at a time.  Sometimes just one hour, or one minute.”

            It was good advice, but rather difficult for a pony that had always looked far into the future, to her future plans, her future goals, and her future designs.  Did this world even have room for a fashion designer?  She shuddered at the thought.

            After a while more, the chariot finally reached Mount Aris.  The ruins of the city looked much like they had when Rarity and her friends had first arrived.  It was abandoned and broken.  She remembered what it had been like when the hippogriffs had moved back to the surface.  Mount Aris had been a joy to behold, full of creatures just rediscovering their own lives after years under water.

            “I thought you said you lived here,” Rarity said.  Heartwing just grinned as the chariot dipped towards the ruins of the hippogriff city.  “Unless…” Once again she thought back to her first visit here with her friends, how the ruins had concealed the true entrance to the seapony city.

            “Queen Novo was brilliant.  Why not use her ideas?” Heartwing said.  “Only I don’t have the magic to bring everypony underwater, so I settled for the next best thing.”  The chariot landed next to a largely intact stone building, covered with vines. 

“Contrail?  Cirrus Fall?” Heartwing addressed the two soldiers.  “If you two are still up for some flying, I’d like you to fly our backtrail and hook up with the rest, make sure they have no problems flying in.”  The two soldiers saluted and flew off.  Heartwing turned to the others. “Let’s get this chariot under cover.”

Rarity and Heartwing dismounted, and helped Cobalt and Terminus out of their harnesses.  The stallions pushed the chariot into the building, through an opening hidden by the vines.  Then the three ponies and griffon stopped in front of the entrance, with Heartwing leading the group.

“Now, presenting to you all, the most wondrous, most elegant, most shining-errific city of all, Angel’s Rest!” Heartwing ducked in with a smirk, the others following close behind.

            The building was empty except for rubble.  The vast empty space made the sound of their hooves on the rock echo throughout the building. Heartwing stepped in grandly, a prance in his step.

“Welcome to the grand entry hall!  Please take note of the fine tapestry work, the luxury carpeting, and especially the gaggle of finely dressed party guests.”  With each declaration, Heartwing motioned dramatically with his hoof.

“There’s nothing here,” Rarity said flatly.  Heartwing smirked at her, but Terminus nudged him hard in the ribs.

            “Don’t tease her,” Terminus said, as he picked through the rubble to find a cleverly hidden recess underneath a large, flat rock.  With his hoof, he pressed firmly down on the stone.  From the floor came a grinding of mechanical gears, and the floor slipped away to reveal a wide spiral staircase heading down.  “C’mon, Rarity.  Let me give you the grand tour of Angel’s Rest.”

            She followed Terminus down the spiral staircase with Cobalt and Heartwing close behind.  Rarity had to admit she was curious; just what sort of a community had Heartwing built in a cave under Mount Aris?

            Finally they reached the bottom of the stairs, which ended in a small room that had a single metal door across from the bottom of the staircase.  There was a row of small holes along the ceiling of the room, and a tiny sliding panel in the door.  Terminus stepped up and knocked on the door.  The panel slid open, and Rarity could see a pair of eyes on the other side.  The eyes took in everypony that was in the room, pausing for a moment on Rarity before Heartwing nodded.  Then the panel closed, and the door slid open.

            “Welcome home, sir,” the pony on the other side, a unicorn mare, said as Heartwing ushered them through the door.  “The rest are coming?”  The guardroom was larger than the room at the foot of the stairs, and there were more than just the unicorn mare at the door.  Several other ponies, dressed in dark clothing, stood at attention as Heartwing and the others entered. 

“At ease, ponies,” Heartwing said to the guards, before answering the mare’s question.  “We took a chariot back.  The airship will be a few hours yet.”

            “Do you… I mean, uh, how is…” the mare stuttered nervously, blushing and looking away.

            “Which one are you worried about?” Heartwing asked compassionately.

            “My fillyfriend.  Miss Ginger Spice,” the door guard admitted in a whisper.

            “Ginger Spice was fine when we left,” Cobalt supplied.  The griffon patted the guard mare with one wing.  “A few cuts and bruises, nothing more.  I’m sure she’ll respond quite well to some close attention from a personal, loving nursemaid.”  The door guard went crimson at the suggestion, and Rarity giggled.  It seemed like even in this nightmare world, life and love went on as normal.

             Rarity followed the others out of the guardroom and into a colossal cavern.  It was larger by far than any underground space she’d ever seen.  Massive pillars of limestone held up a tall ceiling.  Among the pillars was a hodgepodge of structures, some built out of stone, others wood, with even more made of canvas and tent poles.  Above them all was a giant crystal hanging from the ceiling, glowing bright with sunlight and illuminating the entire cave.  The door from the guardroom exited into a bluff high above the rest of the city, giving Rarity a good vantage point to see the entire city.

The shape of the city was exactly like something Discord would have designed.  The entire thing was a chaotic spiders web of streets, twisting this way and that throughout the buildings with no logic.  Dead ends abounded, as did oddly shaped intersections, sometimes with six or seven roads all running together haphazardly.

While Rarity was usually a mare who appreciated symmetry, there was an odd sort of beauty to it all.  Almost as if there was a sense to the nonsense, an underlying delightful whimsy to the design.  

“This truly is your place, isn’t it?” she whispered to Heartwing, who nodded proudly.  Her eyes continued to drift over the city, this time noticing the colorful rainbow of ponies moving about.

Even from her vantage point, Rarity could see ponies and other creatures going about their business. Ponies were smiling and laughing, greeting each other with waves and warm hugs. And it wasn’t only ponies; other creatures mixed in as well, looking as much a part of the city as the ponies. The atmosphere of the city was welcoming and warm, and Rarity thought it odd; she’d been expecting some sort of military fort, full of desperate, warlike ponies.  What she got instead was… harmony.  The three pony tribes, living together, much like they had in Ponyville.

            Of course, she couldn’t help but notice the fashion.  Many ponies wore nothing, much like during Rarity’s time.  But even more ponies were dressed.  Most clothing was utilitarian, with undyed linens and drab colors. There was potential, though.  Rarity did quite like the look of the military style uniforms that soldier ponies wore.  Perhaps her grand debut should be military inspired, maybe with brass buttons and epaulets?  Perhaps some high leg boots?  It was worth an entire notebook of drawings.  She lost herself in her fantasies for a few minutes, almost forgetting where she was and what was happening.

            “This is Angel’s Rest,” Terminus explained.  “It may not be the most modern of cities, but I love it.”  He gestured with one hoof to a long ramp descending from the bluff.  “If you’ll follow me, I’ll guide you through the process we have for newcomers.”

            “Process?” Rarity asked curiously.  Terminus shook a hoof dismissively.

            “Nothing strenuous.  We give all newcomers a medical checkup to see to their physical health, and then an assessment by one of our Knights regarding your combat skills.  Most ponies who make their way here wish to join in the fight, so we need to see where they’ll best fit in.  Afterwards, we’ll see to a place for you to stay temporarily.”

            “Temporarily?” Rarity asked.

            “For the first few weeks of a pony’s stay in Angel’s Rest, we try to have them live close by somepony who can help them in case they need emotional support.  Most ponies who come here have experienced trauma,” Terminus explained.

            “I’ll have to leave you in Cobalt and Termie’s hooves now,” Heartwing said, his voice somber.  “I have some ponies to see.”  Rarity felt out of her depth, but the urge to comfort a friend was too strong.  She rested a hoof on Heartwing’s shoulder.

            “Good luck, darling,” she said softly.  He nodded his thanks, then stepped away down the ramp.  Rarity watched him go with a sense of helplessness; she should be going with her friend, helping him through this.  Instead, she followed Terminus and Cobalt towards the three story brick building labeled ‘hospital’.

           There was a middle aged unicorn mare behind the counter with blue and white paint fur, dressed in a nurse’s uniform.  She lit up like a Hearth's Warming tree when she laid eyes on Cobalt.

“You’re back!  You’re safe!”  she gushed, rushing around the counter before pulling up short, something dark and worried crossing over her expression.  “Is…”

“Hey, Pastel.  She’s fine, she’s coming with the rest of the soldiers later,” Cobalt said softly, wrapping his arms around the mare in a tight embrace.  “We just came back first with Sir Heartwing.  Have a new arrival who needs a checkup.”

“Oh!” Pastel the nurse glanced at Rarity.  For a moment, her eyes widened in recognition and she gaped, swallowing loudly.  She blinked a few times, then gulped and shook her head.

“Professionalism,” Rarity heard her whisper, and Rarity hid an amused smirk behind a hoof.  “Well, come on back to the examination room, miss…”

“Rarity,” she introduced herself with an outstretched hoof.  The nurse blinked a few times, then shook her hoof nervously.

“Miss Rarity.  Really?” the nurse whispered.  Rarity nodded, and the nurse, slightly pale, cleared her throat.  “Of course.  I’m Pastel Paint.  Come this way, we’ll do a quick checkup.”

“Of course.”  She followed the nurse back to a small exam room, noting with some amusement that hospitals hadn’t changed much in the last few hundred years.

“I’m going to assume that something rather complicated, and frankly insane, is going on,” the nurse began shakily as she hovered a clipboard out in front of her.  “But I’ve learned to just accept the insanity that goes on here sometimes.  So if you don’t want to tell me about it, that’s fine.  We’ll just get the exam done.”

“I’d be happy to fill you in, Miss Paint,” Rarity smiled at her.  “But you could get the whole story from your handsome griffon friend.”

Paint smiled fondly.  “My husband, Cobalt.  Wonderful griffon.  You’re right, I’ll just ask him later.”  She cleared her throat again.  “Sorry.  Up on the exam bed, please.  Don’t worry, this will be a simple physical to make sure you don’t need any more care.  Some ponies come to us in the worst of shape, and it’s my job to assess if they have ongoing physical or emotional needs that we need to follow up on.”

The exam was just as promised, easy and quick.  Pastel Paint was professional and efficient, though she did keep pausing every few moments to stare at her.  Rarity found the scrutiny a bit disconcerting, but at least the mare was trying not to be too in awe of her.

“All done.  Clean bill of health.  Unless there’s anything you’re concerned about?”

“Nothing I can think of,” Rarity said brightly, but Paint’s eyes narrowed.

“Everypony talks to somepony after moving here.  Terminus handles most of the counselling.  I don’t know your circumstances, but we’ll do our best to make your transition as smooth as possible.  Everypony needs help, R-rarity.”  She only stumbled a little on the name.

“I’ll talk to him.  I promise.”  Rarity was a bit annoyed to be treated so gently, but part of her understood.

Paint led her back to the waiting room, where Cobalt and Terminus both waited patiently.

“I’ll take her to the placement office,” Terminus offered, patting Cobalt with a hoof.  “You sneak in some time with your wife.  Celestia knows the boss is going to keep you busy in the next few days.”

“I think you might be correct,” Cobalt said gravely, eyeing Rarity.  It made her feel uncomfortable to be the subject of those sharp eyes.  He glanced away when Paint nudged him.

“C’mon.  I’ve got a lunch break.  I want to hear all about your mission.”  Paint pulled him away, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, and he waved at Rarity and Terminus.

“Enjoy the rest of your tour, miss Rarity.”


*   *   *   *   *


Rarity and Terminus left the hospital and headed towards their next stop, someplace Terminus had called the ‘placement office’.  There were creatures filling the streets, and Rarity marveled at the sheer variety.  There were ponies, of course, with unicorns being the most numerous.  But among the ponies were griffons, zebras, and even minotaurs.  Once Rarity glanced overhead and thought she saw a hippogriff flying past.  It reminded her of her days teaching at the school of friendship; not just because of the melange of creatures, but because of the cheerful, friendly air about the entire city.

            “We have a new mare running the placement office,” Terminus warned as they weaved through the crowds.  “She’s… eccentric, but enthusiastic.  Just be patient with her, please?”  Rarity arched an eyebrow, but Terminus refused to explain further.

            The placement office was a stone building with a painted wooden roof, and a placard next to the door that proclaimed its purpose.  As the two ponies approached, Rarity could hear shouting from the inside.  There was no real hostility to the voices, only a single female voice complaining to a patient male one.

            “But I don’t wanna!” the female voice whined.  “It’s demeaning!

            “Do you prefer the alternative?” the male voice replied.  “You heard what the doctor said.  You’re supposed to stay in the chair.”

            “Is that why you came to visit me at work?  To make sure I behave myself?”

            “Yes, my heart.  And because it’s my turn.  If I weren’t here, Windy would be.  Remember, Doc Plasma told you to rest as much as possible.  That means staying off your hooves, and in the chair.”

            “We should probably go interrupt that,” Terminus said to Rarity.  He pushed the door open, and called out.  “Bubblegum?  We have a new pony for assessment!”

            The room was a comfortable looking office, with several sitting pillows.  Behind the desk was an obviously pregnant earth pony mare wearing yellow robes and sitting in a wheelchair.  Next to the chair was a handsome griffon male, his claw resting affectionately on her hoof.

            “New pony!” cheered the earth pony, who pulled the wheelchair closer to the table to assemble some paperwork on her desk.  The griffon helped, pushing an inkwell and quill into the mare’s hooves and shifting some extra papers out of her way.

            “Good morning, Bubblegum.  Today’s new pony is a bit of a special case,” Terminus said, and the mare looked up at Rarity, her eyes narrowing in concentration.

            “There’s something familiar about you,” Bubblegum asked.  “Have I seen you somewhere before?”  

Terminus scoffed. “Were you really a Knight?” he asked, laughing.

            “Of course I was a Knight,” she stuck her tongue out at Terminus.  “I still am, technically, even though the boss man has me benched.”  She scowled at her chair.  “Literally.”

            “My heart, you are very pregnant,” the griffon sighed.  “The doctor has already told you it is a high risk pregnancy, and you need to take things as easy as possible.”

            “My husbands are taking turns foalsitting me,” Bubblegum deadpanned.  “I’d complain, but I’m the mare that gets to spend all the time with a sexy pony and a sexy griffon.”  She nuzzled said griffon, then turned her questioning gaze back on Rarity.  “Sorry about all the mushy stuff.  It’s the pregnancy hormones.  They make me weird.  Weirder.  What’s your name, new pony?  I’m Bubblegum.”

            “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bubblegum,” Rarity said.  “My name is Rarity.”

            “Right.  Pull the other one,” Bubblegum snorted.  “What’s your name really, new girl?  Because I gotta be honest with you, using a fake name like that…” she trailed off when Rarity lifted the hem of her skirt with a smirk, showing off her three-diamond cutie mark.  “Huh.  Galileo?  Did the doctor say hallucinations were a side effect of pregnancy?”

           “He did not,” the griffon replied, looking intently at Rarity’s cutie mark before she lowered her skirt.

            “Huh,” Bubblegum said again.  “Okay then.  There’s a story here?” she glanced at Terminus.  Briefly, Terminus told Bubblegum about Heartwing finding Rarity trapped in a stasis spell, inside a cave in Manehatten.  Heartwing must have shared the whole story with him while Rarity was sleeping.  A few minutes in, the griffon, Galileo, sat down on the cushions, inviting Rarity and Terminus to do the same.

            “So, my assessment sounds like more of a formality at this point,” Bubblegum concluded when Terminus reached the end of his story.  Her voice sounded off balance, and she was twitching oddly.  “I mean, we all know the kind of stuff Saint Rarity got up to back in the day.  It’s not like a bucking legendary hero needs to be assessed, right?” She sounded hysterical.  Rarity thought she might understand what Bubblegum was going through; Heartwing had said she was a religious figure to these people.  It made sense that some ponies might have trouble with meeting her.

            “May I?” Rarity asked gently, placing a hoof on Terminus’.  He nodded.  “Calm down, dear.  You’re in no condition to work yourself into a frenzy over something as silly as me.  Just do your ‘assessment’, like you would for anypony, and if you like, when we have some time, I’d be happy to tell you some of the real stories behind me and my friends’ exploits.”

            “Um, yeah.  That could be fun,” Bubblegum said, breathing heavily.  “Okay, uh, assessment then.  Um, first question.  What kind of combat experience do you have?  I mean, military service or training, that sort of thing.”

            “Well, my friends and I did fight against an army of changelings, once,” Rarity replied.  “I stood with them against a rampaging chaos god, an enraged centaur, a pony of shadows, an angry nightmare given physical form, and a hundred other threats.  I don’t know if any of that counts for your paperwork, though.”  Everypony was staring at her.  Bubblegum’s eyes darted back and forth between the page and Rarity, before gulping.

            “I’ll put down ‘combat experience, but no formal training',” she stuttered, and Rarity blushed.  She hadn’t meant to cause a reaction.

            “The rampaging chaos god.  Was that…” Terminus whispered, unwilling to finish the sentence out loud.  Rarity nodded, and Terminus gulped.  “He won’t talk about that time.  There’s a lot of guilt.” 

            “Okay,” Bubblegum said, recovering herself a little.  “Next is your cutie mark and your profession.  I don’t really need to ask about your cutie mark, everypony knows that.”  She giggled nervously.  “How about profession? What did you do for work before you found us?”

            “I am a fashion designer, and a good one,” Rarity said confidently.  “As soon as I get a hoof on the pulse of haute couture here, I’ll be back in the saddle, as it were.”

            “That’s… way different than what it says in the Book of the Saints,” Bubblegum said as she scribbled down some more notes on the form.  “I mean, the boss stallion told us it was pretty much all lies, but it’s still weird to hear.”  She looked up from her form.  “I wanna hear what it was really like.  Life, before the Diarchy.  The big guy doesn’t talk about it much.”  Terminus was nodding.

            “It would be my pleasure, darling,” Rarity said.  Bubblegum visibly relaxed, and the rest of the interview proceeded without too much more complications.  Inwardly, Rarity wondered about the whole process.  Rarity understood the need, but where did she fit in?  The Tree had given them a mission, but Heartwing had not said what their next step was.  Obviously she wasn’t supposed to just absorb into the rest of the rebels that lived here in Angel’s Rest.

            The interview concluded, and Rarity and Terminus bid goodbye to Bubblegum and Galileo.  Rarity even offered to design Bubblegum new cushions for her chair that would be both comfortable and stylish.  She was already visualizing the designs in her head.

            “Where are you taking me next?” Rarity asked Terminus as they left the building.  “I’ve been holding it in, but I think I’d really like a bath next.  I think I very well might burst if I can’t do at least a little primping.”

            “Very well.  The guest house is this way,” Terminus motioned with one hoof, and Rarity followed him towards a cluster of buildings that looked like houses.  On the way, there were several ponies that smiled and waved, exchanging friendly greetings with Terminus and even waves and words of welcome with Rarity, the obvious new pony. Rarity was glad her cutie mark was covered by her clothing; she wasn’t sure she wanted too much celebrity attention just yet.  Or at least, not celebrity attention she hadn’t earned.  

            “Miss Rarity?  Is everything okay?” Terminus’ voice suddenly broke through her distraction.  She realized she’d frozen in place.

            “Yes, I’m just a bit overwhelmed,” she confessed.  “I think there may have been something to what Heartwing said earlier, about me not feeling myself.  I’m still having trouble coming to terms with everything that has happened recently.”

            “One step at a time, Rarity,” Terminus suggested.  “For right now, I want you to think about a bath.  Think about how good the warm water is going to feel on your fur, how the shampoo feels in your mane.  Think about the scents and the soothing sounds.  Focus on just how amazing your mane is going to look, how shiny your coat will be.  Let each minute come one at a time.”  Her hooves began moving again, propelled by the absolutely divine images the stallion was creating in her head.  Rarity was practically quivering with exhaustion and anticipation when they finally reached their destination.

            The house that Terminus stopped in front of was unassuming.  It was two stories tall, constructed of wood, and painted eggshell white.  There was a flower garden in front, and a small lawn.  A small side wing extended off the east side of the house, an addition that looked almost like an afterthought.

            “This is Heartwing and my house,” Terminus said.  “We finished the guest addition a few months back, so that new ponies can live near a friendly face while they transition into a new life here.  Come on in.”  He opened the door for her.

            Rarity remembered, once, that Fluttershy had told her a story about having tea at Discord’s home.  While perhaps this modern home still followed the laws of physics, a single glance at the mish-mash of décor on the walls and furniture told her which of the two stallions had had a dominant role in picking the decorations.  Nothing matched, there was no theme, no logic, and no consistency.  The couch cushions were mismatched, and the throw pillows clashed.  The wall hangings varied wildly in color and style. 

            “I know,” Terminus said ruefully when he saw her horrified expression.  “It was my idea, really.  On one of his darker days, I rearranged the house like this so he could feel like more of his old self.  He thought it was funny.”  There was a fond, affectionate look in his eyes.  “We keep it because it makes him feel at home, even if it hurts my eyes.”  Rarity giggled along with him.  “This way.”

            The house was modest, but the two stallions had clearly splurged on the bathroom.  There was a huge mirror hanging over a porcelain sink, and the tub was huge.  Fresh towels, warm and fluffy, hung from a bar on the wall.  Terminus turned on the faucets for hot water and the tub began to fill.

            “Take your time.  We do have some mane and fur care products in the cupboard under the sink.  Take whatever you want.  I’ll find some clothes for you if you want, unless you’d prefer nothing.”

            “I thought Heartwing said there was a nudity taboo?” Rarity asked, though she had seen some unclad ponies on the way to the house.

            “That’s out in the Diarchy.  Here not so much.  Unicorns here obviously weren’t raised in the Diarchy, so many don’t go clad.  Many of the others who came here later choose to go without clothing as protest.  Still, some ponies just aren’t comfortable being nude all the time.  Honestly, it’s your choice, and nopony will judge you whatever you pick.”

            “Hmm,” Rarity considered.  “I think I’d best go without, then.  At least until I can design something suitable myself.  Thank you, Terminus.”

            “I have a quick errand to run, and then I’ll be right back if you need anything,” Terminus said.  “Remember, if you start to feel overwhelmed, just focus on the present; take each day one minute at a time.”  He closed the door behind him, leaving her in solitude.

            Rarity held it together long enough to fill the huge tub with hot water.  As soon as she slipped out of her makeshift dress and into the soothing tub, the tears began to flow.  This was no dramatic outburst, designed at least in part to elicit sympathy from her audience, but silent, shuddering sobs, drawn from deep inside her.

            She felt a keen sense of loss.  The tub reminded her of her many spa trips with Fluttershy, her best friend, now dead and buried a thousand years.  The warmth reminded her of cozy nights, curled up next to a fireplace with a book in Twilight’s castle library.  A thousand little things in this simple bathroom reminded her of all her friends, and she shed a thousand tears into the hot water.  She had no idea how long she sat there in the water, weeping, although the water had grown tepid.

            Eventually a knock on the door, and a concerned voice calling her name, startled her awake.  With an embarrassed blush, she realized she’d drifted off.

            “Just a moment, Terminus,” she called out, remembering mournfully that in her time crying in the tub she hadn’t even taken a second to pamper herself.  She ducked under the water and thoroughly wet her hair.  With her magic, she gently opened the cupboard underneath the sink.  From the tub she could see a basic array of mane care products.  She picked a vanilla hibiscus shampoo and mourned that she wouldn’t have enough time to do this properly.  A rush job with shampoo was a travesty, but a necessary one if she didn’t want to be rude to her host.  “Can you let me know where I can find a mane brush?”

            “Second drawer, to the right of the mirror,” came Terminus’ voice from the other side of the door.

            “Thank you, darling,” Rarity said.  He really was a dear.  Maybe after the bath she’d have a chance to sit down and hear about how such a kind stallion like him ended up with a rascal like Discord.  Although, this new ‘Heartwing’ persona did seem to genuinely be different from the former draconequus.

            The quickly cooling water temperature made finishing her bath an urgent priority.  Rarity used her magic to quickly shampoo her mane and tail, scrubbing and rinsing as quickly as she could.  She was shivering when she finally stepped out of the tub, and she wrapped herself in the warm fluffy heaven of the towel.

            After a completely reasonable amount of time brushing out her mane and tail, she finally felt herself again, at least physically.  She stepped out of the bathroom and trotted down the oddly decorated hallway into the equally discordant living area.  Terminus was sitting on the couch, curled up with a blanket and a book.  He had removed his armor, and was wearing a simple green housecoat.  He looked up when she entered, and gestured to a bowl sitting on the living room table.  It was full of ice cream.

            “Oh dear.  This future seemed so bleak, I was worried for a moment that maybe ice cream had gone away, too,” Rarity half-joked, and Terminus laughed, setting his book aside.

            “Heartwing suggested chocolate ice cream.  He said it was your favorite.”

            “I’m rather flattered that he remembered,” Rarity said.  “There was a time when I truly believed he didn’t care about anypony but Fluttershy.”  A stab of pain crossed Terminus’ face at the mention of her old friend.  It was understandable; few ponies liked to be reminded of their lover’s former flames.

            “We have a few hours while Heartwing deals with business,” Terminus said.  “Why don’t you take some time to ask some questions?”

            There were a thousand questions Rarity wanted to ask.  Questions about the world, questions about her friends, questions about Heartwing and his community.  Rarity blurted out the one that came first in her mind.

            “What happened to Sweetie Belle?” Rarity asked desperately.  “I’m sure she’s long…” she cringed, then forced the word out, “…dead, but I need to know if she was happy.”

            “I don’t know much about what happened to the ponies of the past,” Terminus said with a soft smile.  “You’ll have to ask Heartwing to get more details.  But he did hang on to this.”  He held up the book he’d been reading, and set it down in front of Rarity.  “I had a feeling you’d be asking about her.”

            “What is this?” Rarity asked, glancing at the title.  Chaos and Harmony: A Study on the Convergence of Magic and Song.  She read the author’s name; it was written by Sweetie Belle, with co-authors listed as Princess Twilight Sparkle and Discord.  She took a bite of her ice cream and hummed with pleasure.  It was clearly hoofmade.

            “Your sister’s Ph.D. dissertation,” Terminus said.  “A bit of an academic curiosity at this point.  Heartwing told me at one time, the magic of harmony was so strong throughout this land that sometimes, when it intersected oddly with the magic of chaos, ponies would spontaneously break into song and dance routines out of nowhere.  No planning, no rehearsal, no discernable source of music.”  His voice was full of wonder and longing.  “I would have loved to have seen it.”

            “I experienced it myself,” Rarity admitted.  “Honestly, it was something all ponies took for granted.  You’re saying my sister studied it?”

            “Enough to write a book and get her doctorate in Magical Theory, apparently,” Terminus said.  “What did…” he began, then paused, shaking his head.  “No.  My questions can wait.  I’m here to answer yours.”

            “You say you don’t know much about what happened to my friends?” Rarity asked carefully.

            “I know they all died, centuries ago.  Even the Princess Twilight, even though she was an alicorn.  Heartwing doesn’t like to speak of them much, especially Fluttershy.  I know he loved her dearly; everything he does is for her memory.”  Terminus’ voice sank, his ears drooping back.  He glanced at Rarity, and shook his head.  “Sorry.  I try not to get maudlin when I talk about her, but it’s hard.”

            “You… feel like you’re competing with a memory?” Rarity guessed, and Terminus nodded.

            “Hard to compete with somepony so perfect, so divine, that she still inspires your immortal coltfriend hundreds of years later,” Terminus said bitterly, and sniffed.  “I can’t even hate her.  She’s too perfect.”

            “She was just a pony, like you or me,” Rarity said softly.

            “No.  Now she’s a legend.  Just like the rest of you,” Terminus said.  “I… I’m sorry.  I’m getting away from your questions again.”

            “Think nothing of it, Terminus,” Rarity said, taking another bite of the absolutely sumptuous ice cream.  They continued to talk, and Terminus continued to answer questions, though Rarity carefully kept her questions to generalities.  Her ice cream was long gone when Terminus offered to get them both some coffee or hot chocolate.  Before he could get up, however, the door swung open to reveal an exhausted looking Heartwing, ears and tail slumping.

            “Hey, guys,” Heartwing said.  He sounded defeated.  “The Yeast brothers are delivering a pizza.  I assume you haven’t eaten yet.”

            “Just chocolate ice cream,” Rarity said.  Something fatty and indulgent, dripping with melty cheese, sounded perfect right now.  “How are you?”  Terminus stood up and embraced Heartwing, their hooves slipping around each other in a loving embrace.

            “Tired.  Hungry.  Did Terminus talk your ear off yet?” Heartwing asked.

            “He was a perfect gentlestallion,” Rarity said.  “You’ve done well for yourself.”  Both stallions blushed, and Rarity smiled.  “Now come sit down, Heartwing.  You look like you need to get off your hooves.”

            Heartwing made only a token protest as Rarity and Terminus maneuvered him onto the couch.  Terminus snuggled up to his stallion, and Rarity couldn’t help but coo at how cute the two of them were together.  They were affectionate and sweet, and Rarity felt a twinge of jealousy.  She wanted what they had.

            “So, I’m sure you asked Terminus Flash all sorts of questions,” Heartwing said.  “Do you have any for me?”

            “Of course I do, Heartwing,” Rarity said.  One question, really, that had stuck in her mind since waking up on the chariot earlier.  “What do I do now?”  Heartwing opened his mouth to answer, but Rarity spoke before he could.  “Do you expect me to join in your rebellion?  Your war?  I don’t know if you remember, darling, but I’m not much of a military type.  I barely even know what’s happening.  Or do I somehow try to pick up where I left off?  Build a new shop, start making dresses and selling them to the denizens of your cave city?  I’m just not sure how I fit in right now.  And then there’s the mission the Tree of Harmony set for us.”  She realized she was rather worked up, and paused.  Heartwing watched her patiently, waiting to make sure she was done.  Then he spoke.

            “Rarity, you are your own mare.  If you want to fight at our side, I would be honored.  But not everypony in Angel’s Rest is a warrior.  We have an entire community here; the Diarchy makes outcasts of all sorts, not just fighting ponies.  I’ve made sure there’s a home for anypony who needs one here.”  He sounded sad, or perhaps resigned.  “And of course we’re going to find you a shop.  That last bit…”  He paused thoughtfully.  “I can’t help but feel like Emberglow is an essential part of all this.  Maybe even one of the Elements.  I’ve sent word to my agents in New Canterlot City.  They’ll keep an eye on her.  Until she gets back, I think you should relax, design dresses, eat ice cream, and do your best to come to terms with all of this.  Don’t worry.  We’ll be there to help every step of the way.”

            The guest room was almost lifelessly bland compared to the living room, and Rarity nearly stomped her hoof with indignation when Terminus showed it to her.

            “Yeah, it’s boring,” he said with a laugh.  “I think I used up all my creative inspiration making our house a home for Heartwing.  I welcome any notes you might have.”

            “I’ll get some to you,” Rarity declared wryly.  The walls were painted eggshell white, the bedspread and linens were beige, and there was a still life of a fruit bowl on the wall.  There was even a lace doily on the bedside table.  Rarity felt ill.  “Very soon.”

            “It’s meant to be calming,” Terminus said with a roll of his eyes.  Rarity shook her head.

            “I assure you, darling, it is most distressing,” she said, though she smiled to take any sting out of her words.  “I am most grateful, though.  Though the color scheme may be ghastly, the bed looks perfectly comfortable and warm.”

            “Well then, dear lady,” Terminus said with mock formality.  “I shall leave you to your palace for the evening, and bid you good night.”

            “And you as well, good sir,” Rarity giggled, before returning to a more normal voice.  “Honestly, I think your own dear prince might need a little extra cuddling tonight.  Today can’t have been easy on him.”

            “It never is,” Terminus said solemnly as he slipped out of the guest bedroom.  Rarity turned out the light and slipped into the bed.  A disaster of design it may be, but it was comfortable and warm.  After the day she’d had, it wasn’t long before she slipped into sleep.

            Sleep, however, was not restful.  The nightmares lasted all night.  Over and over, one after another, she watched her friends trot up to her, smile sadly, and then turn to dust.  She tried to reach out to each one, screaming desperately as one after another they faded away.  The last to appear then fade was her little Spike, his eyes full of the same dazed sort of longing he often wore in her presence.

            Rarity woke up far too early in the morning, soaked in sweat and tears.
> Interlude: No Good Choices
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: No Good Choices


“There’s your outpost.”

Gearsmith blinked, ducking and clenching his eyes against the sudden light as the hood was ripped violently from his head.  Something rattled, and he felt the shackles fall off his hooves.  Instinctively, he reached up and covered his eyes from the bright light; he’d had the hood on for what felt like days now.  He'd had it on ever since his capture, in fact.

When his sight had cleared enough to see, he glanced at his captor.  She was surprisingly young; probably younger than his daughter. His daughter. The thought sent a molten lance of pain and fury through his chest.  

The mare was saying something, but he didn’t hear her.  His ears were buzzing.  Between the burning light and the fury bubbling inside, he was disoriented, confused, and overwhelmed.

“What did you say?” he muttered, rubbing his hooves as he looked her up and down.  She carried a rifle, and wore the black uniform he’d come to associate with the heretics.  His eyes kept darting to the horn on her head.  It seemed more menacing than the rifle she had trained on him.

“Your outpost.”  She pointed with the muzzle of her rifle, and Gearsmith couldn’t help but look.  They were on a hill, and down below he could just barely see the tents that made up Outpost 192.  “You’re free to go.”  She motioned to his free hooves, and the loose shackles that sat on the ground in front of him.  “If you want to.”

“What does that mean?”

“You don’t have to go back.  Everypony gets a choice.”

“You’re not making any sense.  Why aren’t you shooting me?” Gearsmith wouldn’t mind if she did.

Oh, my sweet baby girl.  It’s all my fault, I dragged you into this.  Your mother will hate me forever.

“I’m not shooting you because everypony gets a choice,” the heretic repeated.  “You can walk away free, head down to the outpost and back to your people.  Or, if you’d prefer, my people will resettle you somewhere far away from here.  Probably on the Zebrican continent.”

“Why would I even consider that?” he snarled.  

She shrugged.  “You’re smart enough to know what happens to ponies that get captured.  You think you just go back to being a soldier after this?”  She laughed bitterly.  “You spent several days with us, mister.  The second you go back, you’re disappearing into another black bag and then it’s off to a Mystic blacksite.  They’ll be convinced we turned you and you’re some sort of double agent.”
“So, become a heretic or disappear into a Mystic prison somewhere.  Some choice,” he snarled.  She shrugged.

“Pick fast.  I don’t wanna stand around here forever, I’ve got a marefriend and two kids waiting for me.”

Gearsmith turned away.  He didn’t want to hear this.

“You bastards killed my daughter,” he whispered.  She snorted.

“Yeah, sure.  It’s war.  Ponies die.  If you idiots had turned around when we’d said, nopony would have died.”  There was a bitter sort of snarl in her voice.  She’d lost somepony too, he guessed.  He didn’t want to hear about it.

“Why now?”

“Your ponies are pulling out.  They gave up.  Probably about a week too late, but it’s something.”  The mare sighed.  “Look, I don’t mean to seem like a bitch.  I wish we weren’t enemies.  You seem like an okay stallion, but you’re wrong, and your ponies are wrong.   I’m sorry you lost somepony.”

“Shut up,” he snarled, rounding on her so quickly she lifted her rifle.  “Shut your Saints-damned heretic mouth!  You don’t know anything about loss!”  His throat was raw, and his hooves shook.  He wanted her to shoot.

“I don’t?” she snapped back.  “Your cute little Radiant impaled my best friend through the chest, you bastard.  Don’t you bucking dare tell me about loss.  So your daughter’s dead?  I’m sorry.  I really am.  But she chose to be here.  So did you.  So did I.”

Gearsmith glared at her, wishing he had a knife, a rifle, anything.  She stared back, looking tired.

“Just pull the trigger, would you?” he whispered, as tears leaked down his muzzle.  “I don’t know why you even left me alive to begin with.”

“It’s because we’re better than you lot,” she huffed.  “You want proof?  Take the offer.  We’ll place you somewhere you can start over.  Do something else with your life.  Take up a hobby.  Or drink yourself into oblivion.  But if you go back?  Torture and an unmarked grave.  You’re smart enough to know I’m right.”

“Shut up,” he repeated, turning from her to glance at the Outpost.  He ached.  She was right, and he hated her for it.

“Yeah, whatever,” she shrugged, unconcerned.  “So what’s your choice?”

Gearsmith glanced between her and the far-off Outpost.  There were no good choices.  He clenched his eyes shut, and opened his mouth to speak.
> Chapter 25
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 25


Correspondence between Lady Red Gingham and Sir Tarpit, Knights Jubilant.  The first note is typed, the second hoofwritten.

Sir Tarpit-

            	I’ve got a new pony for your Confession rotation.  Lofty Tale, of the noble family by the same name.  He has recently been cast out of the Knights Vigilant for violating his Oath of Chastity and fathering a foal.  They gave him the option to give up the foal and keep his Knighthood, but he refused.

            	Keep an eye on this one.  Don’t spare any of the tough questions, especially sexual ones.  I’d like a report at least every two months.  I’ve already been asked to CC one of the Mystics into those reports, so they’re keeping an eye on him too, though it seems like a low priority case.

Good luck.  We’re taking this seriously, though I don’t think there will be any problems long term.

Signed,

Red Gingham

 

Red-

            	Just had my first meeting with Lofty.  He seems repentant.  His motivations appear pure; he left the Knighthood out of family loyalty, not disaffection, so the Mystics can probably relax (if that’s even possible!).

            	I’ll be sure to ask the hard questions, like you said.  I don’t think we’ll need to waste too much time with this one, though.  My guess is he’ll be back to a regular confessor within a few years at the most.

Signed,

Sir Tarpit.

1112 AF, New Canterlot City 

            	Lofty Tale loved to garden.  Maybe it was in his blood; he was an earth pony, after all.  He felt a connection to the land, a sense of completeness, which he had never felt before.  It didn’t hurt that gardening was one of the best distractions from the mess that his life had become.  At least his grandfather and sister didn’t usually bother him while he was out here, and even the manor servants had been ordered to allow him to work on his own.  It made the work rather difficult solo, but it also made for some quality alone time to be with his thoughts.  

His thoughts drifted to his friend Emberglow.  She hadn’t written him back in weeks, and he was beginning to grow concerned.  Before his disgrace, he would have thought nothing about dropping in at Diamond Home and inquiring about her status, but he had no such option now.

            	Currently, he was weeding.  His summer squash was being choked out by a particularly resilient ragweed infestation.  It was hard to weed as an earth pony because the best option he had for pulling the weeds was his teeth, but putting ragweed anywhere near his mouth frequently led to sinus congestion and intense sneezing.  He could use a trowel, but the damned things had almost unbreakable root systems.  Pulling them by teeth really was the best of the bad options.  The hard work was paradoxically relaxing, though, so he didn’t mind.  

Especially when he got a surprise visitor.  He heard the hooves long before he heard anything else.

            	“SNEK ‘TEK!” True Tale, his beautiful, perfect son cried out loudly as Lofty was suddenly pelted by a tiny furry blue missile, landing right on his back and attempting, in a coltish, clumsy way, to tickle Lofty’s ribs.  Lofty made sure to position himself between the rows, so that when he ‘fell’ he wouldn’t crush any of the plants.

            	“Oh no, I’ve been sneak attacked!” he cried, laughing despite himself.  Lofty’s heart overflowed with affection.  “And you know my weak spot!”

            	“Daddy’s tik’ish!” True proclaimed, running his tiny hooves along his father’s ribs, trying to provoke a ticklish response.  Lofty gently played with his son for a few more minutes, rolling about in the dirt between rows of plants until both stallion and colt were filthy.  Eventually both collapsed into panting giggles, catching their breath from the roughhousing.

            	“Now True, tell me.  Does Nanny know where you are?” Lofty asked after their laughter had lulled.  True considered for a moment, then pointed up at the Tale manor.  In the window, watching, probably for the entire ‘sneak attack’ routine, was the Tale’s hired Nanny, a nearly ancient earth pony named Brushstroke.  From a distance, Lofty could see the amused grin on the servant’s wrinkled face.  Once eye contact was made, she waved to him and went back inside.  “Good boy.  How did your lessons go today?”  The colt didn’t answer, but rubbed his forehooves together in embarrassment.  “Did you listen to everything Nanny had to say?”

            	“Kinda,” True admitted.

            	“But she said you’d been good enough that you could come help me?” Lofty asked, and True nodded with a silly grin.  “I’m glad to have you.”  Lofty loved it when True came to help him in the garden.  It was the only place he could pretend that nothing was wrong, and they were just a completely normal family doing normal things.  Spending time with other ponies reminded him of what he had given up.  Spending time with his son reminded him why he’d given up what he had.

            	Admittedly, True’s ‘help’ was somewhat less helpful than it could have been.  Clumsy hind hooves were often in danger of trampling plants, while clumsy forehooves sometimes ripped the weeds out while leaving roots behind.  But that didn’t matter a bit to Lofty.  It wasn’t as if they needed the fruit of Lofty’s labor; both of them were provided with a place to live and a spending stipend.  The garden was simply a conceit of Lofty’s, and he donated everything he harvested to the soup kitchen anyways. 

Even the soup kitchen had been taken from him, he thought darkly.  The director he had selected had approached him after his very public ouster from the Knights Vigilant, suggesting sheepishly that they should sever ties for the good of the kitchen.  It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he’d swallowed it willingly, if not enthusiastically.

For an hour, he helped show True how to identify the weeds that needed pulling.  He had to keep a close eye on the foal, because his tiny hooves sometimes found the wrong plants to pull.  Lofty didn’t mind in the slightest, and it was a happy hour, interrupted only by a clearing throat at the edge of his garden.

“Hello, Grace,” Lofty said.  He didn’t even have to lift his head.  Only his sister Graceful Tale cleared her throat in such a conspicuous and condescending way.

“Hello, brother,” his sister said airily.  “True, I think Nanny was looking for you.  She said you’ve been outside long enough.  It’s time for your art lesson.”  True pouted, but he knew better than to argue with his Aunt Grace.  Lofty looked at the manor’s back door, and indeed Nanny was waiting for him patiently.  Grace made sure to ruffle the colt’s mane as he dashed past.  Lofty stood up, brushing the dirt off his coat as much as he could.

“What can I do for you today, Grace?” he asked his younger sister softly, already resigning himself for the argument to come.  Arguing was all they ever did, these days.  He wondered if other families hated each other as much as his seemed to.  Everypony was always antagonizing each other, bickering, making subtle insults and petty threats, with the exception of True, of course.  Everypony doted on True.

“I need you to start taking on some family duties,” Grace said bluntly.  Lofty laughed.

“Oh, have I suddenly become not disgraced any longer?” Lofty asked.  He knew he was starting off a bit defensive and combative, but he didn’t care.  After weeks of being criticized by his sister every conversation they had, he was sick of pretending to be nice to her.

“No.  I’ve just found a way to take advantage of your disgrace,” Grace countered snidely.  “Do we have to have this conversation in the dirt?”

“No, we don’t have to have any conversation,” Lofty shot back casually.  “But this is where I am.  If you want to talk to me, this is where you’ll do it.”

“Fine.  I need you to go to a reception ball in five weeks,” Grace said.  Lofty was intrigued despite himself.

“A reception ball?  What for?” Lofty asked, then silently cursed himself for showing interest.  His sister would latch on to that if she could.

“It’s the talk of the town in New Canterlot City.  Not that you would know.  The pontiff has announced that we have finally negotiated an exchange of embassies with the heretics to the north.”

“Really?” Lofty asked.  That was interesting news.  “Did the shield come down?”

“No, it’s as strong as ever.  The word is, a Knight Jubilant managed to make contact with some crystal pony ambassadors in Zebrica.  She managed to convince whoever’s in charge up there to allow an embassy in the Northern Empire.  In response, the pontiff agreed to host an embassy here.”

“So the reception ball is for the crystal pony’s embassy?” Lofty reasoned.  His sister nodded.  “But why me?  I’m not exactly an asset for the family at the moment.  Probably not ever again.”  Not that Lofty minded too much.

“See, that’s what I thought.  But no, you are an asset.  Just not the way you were before,” his sister mused.  “I’ve spoken with several other members of the families who will be attending the ball.  Let’s just say, every family of import is sending a representative.  The representatives will be a subtle sort of message to the heathen crystal ponies, an insult too buried for those backwards heretics to even notice.”

“Oh,” Lofty said, disappointed but not surprised.  It made sense now; the pontiff had been forced to invite the embassy in exchange for being able to send his own — but just because he had been forced to welcome the crystal ponies didn’t mean they were supposed to feel welcome.  “So who else will be attending?”

“I don’t have a comprehensive list, but I know a few.  Fine Dine, Tight Caulk, Darkspire, and Mariposa,” his sister listed off.  Lofty nearly groaned out loud, especially to think that he was considered to fit in with that company.  Fine Dine was a widow five times over, and there were questions about most of her deceased husbands.  Tight Caulk had been tossed out of the military for cowardice.  Darkspire had never been caught or convicted of anything, but everypony knew to keep him far away from foals.  Mariposa was so socially inept it was rumored she had some donkey blood in her.  All from important families, families with influence and power.  But each one was the bottom of the proverbial barrel.

“Forget it,” Lofty said.  “That’s petty and cruel, even for you.”

“Think about this, though.  You’ll be the best of the lot,” his sister reasoned.  Lofty rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I refuse,” he said.  Grace scowled at him.

“I have something to offer,” she said.  “If you do this for me, I’ll make sure True gets into the Shooting Star Academy.”  It was the most advanced and prestigious preschool program for foals in all of New Canterlot City.  With True’s questionable origins, his placement in the elite preschool would ensure his access to a bountiful and successful education.  The problem for Grace was that everybody doted on True.  Even Grace herself.

“Unfortunately, your offer has no weight,” Lofty said with a smirk.  “You see, I checked the mail today.  I know, it’s usually the butler’s job.  But I found an interesting letter.”

“Damn,” Grace swore.  “I didn’t think they’d send out acceptance letters so soon.”

“You may hate me, but it’s obvious how much you love True,” Lofty crowed victoriously.  “Thanks for getting him admitted, even if you did try to use it to manipulate me just now.”

“I still need you to go to this ball.  It’s important enough that we need to send somepony, even if it has to be somepony disgraceful.”

“You want me to start contributing to the family’s social standing?  I’ll need something more.  Something you weren’t going to give my son anyways.”

“What do you want?” Grace sighed.

“Funding in perpetuity for my soup kitchen.  It doesn’t have to be much, and you can do it as publicly as you want.  Who knows, they might put the family name on a new wing, or something,” Lofty offered.

“How much?” Grace asked.  The slight smirk in his sister’s face revealed to Lofty that she’d been expecting this, or at least something like it.

“Three thousand a month,” Lofty said confidently.

Grace laughed with contempt.  “What would they do with all that money?” Her lip curled in a sneer.  “Nine hundred.”

“How much is our representation at this party really worth to you?” Lofty mused.  “If we’re required to attend, and I refuse, that means you or Righteous.  Did you enjoy the last time you ran into Tight Caulk?  What was the word he used to describe your flanks?”

“One point four thousand,” Grace snarled, her face flushing with anger.  “I’ve left you alone out here, Lofty.  I could change that.”  As a threat, it wasn’t very subtle.

“Two point one,” Lofty countered, softening his voice.  “Think about the optics.  This really does make our family look good.”

“One point seven five,” Grace offered, and Lofty waved a hoof in acceptance.

“Fine.”  It wasn’t nearly as much as he’d liked, and Grace’s face was sour.  It looked like neither one of them were quite happy with the end result.

“I don’t see why you feel the need to donate bits,” Grace muttered. “Don’t you donate all your produce from your garden to that kitchen, too?”

“I’m not going to argue with you about this, Grace,” Lofty sighed.  It would be a waste of time trying to explain to his sister how the poorest of ponies lived.  She wasn’t stupid, but she saw no need to try and understand the experience of those outside her narrow worldview.  “We already made an agreement.  Now, would you like to help me with this ragweed?”  Grace huffed.

“When did we stop being siblings and start being enemies?” she asked, and Lofty shook his head.

“I don’t know, Grace,” Lofty said softly.  “Sometimes I wish we could just start over.”  He knew there was no chance of that.  The only answer he got was a disappointed glance over her shoulder as she turned to trot away.  Reluctantly, he went back to his weeding.

“I’ll send somepony by to get you outfitted properly.  The ball is five weeks from today,” Grace called from the back door of the manor.  “Remember, just because the ball itself is a calculated insult doesn’t mean you can disappoint our family.  Best behavior, big brother.”  Without another word, she slipped inside the manor.  He sighed and returned to his gardening.

This was Lofty’s life now.  Working in his garden, reading, playing with his son, arguing with his family.  Mealtimes he shared with his grandfather Righteous Tale, a boisterous disapproving stallion who hated Lofty for the disgrace he had brought to the family name.  Twice a week he went to confession; it was a requirement of his discharge for at least two years.  The confessor was a Knight Jubilant, Sir Tarpit.  He didn’t even want to think about what they talked about at those special confession sessions.

Life  was peaceful, quiet, and not a little bit boring; it was a prison of his own making, really.  Perhaps a reception ball, even one designed to insult the poor crystal pony ambassadors, would be a welcome source of excitement in his life.

Lofty kept an ear out as he weeded, listening and hoping for another ‘sneak attack’.  When he heard the approach of hooves, he grinned.  It was about time for another break with his son.

“Lofty?” the sneaking assailant asked, and Lofty Tale jerked to his hooves from his crouched position, his shocked eyes zeroing in on the voice.  It was the last voice he’d expected to hear in his own garden.  A familiar but unexpected pony was hiding behind his tomato cages.

“Emberglow?” he blurted, rushing to her side.  She jerked away from him, eyes widening in startled fear, before relaxing slightly.

His friend looked terrible.  Her feathers were bent and crooked from long overuse.  Her fur was dirty and matted, and there were bags of exhaustion under each of her eyes.  Minor wounds, only partially healed, crisscrossed her entire body.  Her dress was odd; it looked like something somepony had rigged together out of a burlap blanket and some bandages, though it actually fit her nicely.

“What happened to you?” he asked, noting the fear in her eyes, and the weariness.  “I haven’t heard from you in weeks!”

“Is… is there somewhere we can go to talk?  Somewhere private?” Emberglow asked.  She sounded exhausted.

“Follow me,” Lofty said.  He led the way into the manor, Emberglow following behind him with a slumped head and pinned ears.

The manor’s backdoor led to a comfortable sitting parlor adjacent to the kitchen.  Lofty poked his head into the kitchen; the cook wasn’t there at the moment, so he quietly led the two of them through the kitchen to a spiral staircase that led into the wine cellar.  There was an extensive collection of fine wine laid out on racks laying against the wall, and a separate shelf for expensive liquor.

“It will be quiet here.  The only pony in this manor that drinks is my grandfather.  Everypony else in my family lives at the other estate; this is where they hide the disgraces.”

“You’re not a disgrace, Lofty,” Emberglow said tiredly, looking around the wine cellar.  “Nopony will overhear us?”

“No.  What happened, Emberglow?”

“It’s such a long story.  I don’t even know where to start,” Emberglow said, her voice careful. 

“Are you hurt?  Is there something you need right now?”

“Water?” Emberglow said.  “Maybe something to eat?”

“On it,” Lofty said.  “You wait here.  Nopony will bother you, and I’ll be down in just a moment.”  He rushed upstairs, his mind buzzing with curiosity and concern.  He quickly buzzed through the kitchen, collecting a few fresh vegetables from the pantry and a large cup of water.  With his goodies, he trotted back down the stairs into the cellar.  Emberglow shot him a grateful look as she greedily swallowed the water.

“Thanks.  I’ve been flying for days,” she said, gasping for breath as she gulped down the water.

“Flying for days? Don’t tell me... you flew all the way from Manehatten?” Lofty gasped, and Emberglow nodded.

“I took breaks where I could, but yes,” she said.  “I had to get back as fast as I could.  I have to…”  She took a deep breath.  “I have things I have to do.”

“What happened?” Lofty asked.  Emberglow eyed him.

“I don’t know if I can tell you,” she said guardedly.  “Lofty, everything has changed.  Everything.  I…”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?  Like, with the Mystics?” Lofty asked very carefully.  There were few ways a Knight like Emberglow could get into trouble, and the attention of inquisitors was one of them.  It didn’t help that the last time they had spoken in pony had been when they had been speaking about looking into the disappearance of her friend Oak Chips, something that threatened to draw unwanted Mystic attention in her direction.

“As far as I know, they’ll have labeled me missing in action,” Emberglow replied.  “Maybe even killed.  The mission in Manehatten was a disaster, Lofty.”  Her eyes were wet, and her voice broke as she spoke.  “I lost friends.  Good friends.  I…” She paused, visibly choked up. 

Wordlessly, Lofty pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to his friend.  She nodded her thanks and wiped her eyes.  “I learned some things.  Scary things, Lofty.  I’m not ever going back to the way I was before.  I guess… I’m not a Knight anymore.”

“What does that mean?” Lofty asked, and Emberglow flinched, her eyes darting away.

She hurriedly gathered the bowl of vegetables, and began making for the door as if to leave. “Thanks for the food and water, Lofty.  I’ll get going as soon as I…”

“Emberglow.  You’re my best friend.  I’m a disgraced Knight.  There’s nothing you could say that would surprise me.”

“How about, I met the head of the Knights Discordant?” Emberglow said challengingly.  Lofty stared at her.  “We talked.  I found out some stuff that I’d like to confirm.”

“Emberglow, how could…”

“Lofty, we’ve been lied to.  For hundreds of years.  The Saints… they weren’t like they are in the book.  Not at all.” Her eyes blazed with intensity.  “Kick me out of your house, Lofty.  Tell me to leave and never come back.  It’ll be the smartest thing you’ve ever done.  I think…” She took a deep breath.  “I think I’m a heretic now, after all.”

Lofty stared at his oldest friend.  Emberglow stared back, her eyes hard, though her hooves were trembling with emotion.

“Okay.  Tell me the whole story,” he said patiently.  She stared at him in shock, and then shook her head.

“I can’t.  I can’t put you in danger like that.  I should go.” She pushed towards the door again, but he blocked her way.

“You need to stay here to rest and recover,” Lofty insisted.  “For as long as you want.  You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.  But I want to understand, Emberglow.”

“What would you do if everything you’ve ever believed was a lie?” Emberglow asked rhetorically, some frustration leaking into her voice.  She shook her head.  “Don’t answer that.  I don’t… I don’t want you to go through what I have,” she whispered.

“And what did you go through, Emberglow?” Lofty asked. 

“I lost my faith, Lofty.  And it’s never coming back.” Her eyes were wet with tears.

He looked at her in disbelief. It shouldn’t have surprised Lofty, with the hints Emberglow had been laying down before, but to hear that she had lost her faith was a real blow.  He had always quietly envied Emberglow’s strength, her devotion and determination.  For him, Knighthood had been a personal goal, not an expression of faith.  For Emberglow, it had been both.  Her faith was both an inspiration and a scourge for him, always reminding him of his own personal lack of conviction.  If somepony like Emberglow could lose her faith, what did that mean for him?

“Okay.  What do you need?” Lofty asked.  He didn’t really want to know what Ember had found out, not after seeing the state she was in, but he still had to help her.  Emberglow was the only friend he had who had ever treated him like a pony, not just a name or an asset.  Well, besides True, at least.  He’d give her whatever she needed.

“I need to find out where Steadfast Word is.  Then I can leave you in peace,” she said.  “I don’t know if there’s anything you can do to help with that, though.”

“I still have some connections in the Knighthood, even if I am disgraced,” Lofty said.  “Let me send a letter or two, see what I can find out.  Meanwhile, you can be a guest of the manor.  You can meet my son.”

“I’d like that,” Emberglow admitted.  “But won’t I cause problems for you?  Ponies will ask questions.  Your servants, your family.”

“The only family member who lives at this manor, besides my son, is my grandfather Righteous.  He’s such a drunken old letch that was banished out here where he couldn’t embarrass the family any longer.  Just like me, strangely enough.  There are only three servants at the manor: the butler, the chef, and True’s Nanny.  I won’t tell them your name, and…” he trailed off.  He wasn’t sure Emberglow would like what he had to say next.

“Go on,” she said.  Apparently she’d noticed his hesitation.

“The servants will assume I’ve brought you here as my secret lover.  It’s the kind of behavior they’d expect from me.  If that bothers you, we could come up with something…”

“No, it’s fine,” Emberglow mumbled, slumping.  “It’s not like I have a reputation to uphold anymore.”  She seemed so lost.  Lofty reached out with a hoof, resting it on his friend’s shoulder.

“How can I help?” he asked gently.  Emberglow sniffed.

“Have you ever had to completely reinvent your identity?  Like, from the ground up decide who you are all over again, because your entire foundation has been ripped up?” she said.

“Actually, yes,” Lofty said quietly.  Emberglow looked up at him, and suddenly nuzzled the hoof he had resting on her shoulder.

“You’re right.  I’m sorry, I’ve been so selfish,” Emberglow sighed.  “I suppose you’ve had to reinvent your whole life recently too.”

“You’ll understand why when you meet him,” Lofty said proudly.  “C’mon.  Let’s go see my son.”

True was taking his ‘art lesson’ from Nanny.  Really, that just meant putting him in an easily cleanable room and an easily cleanable foal’s smock, with several buckets of hoof paint.  Nanny Brushstroke had been hired specifically because of her creative background, and always loved helping the little foal explore his creative side, no matter how much of a mess he created.

“Nanny Brushstroke, I’d like a word with my son, please,” Lofty said as he and Emberglow entered the room.  There were a dozen wide sheets of paper, covered in a rainbow of hoof prints and clumsy figures.  Lofty was impressed; he could almost guess what some of the pictures were supposed to be.  True Tale was lost in his task, spreading more globs of paint over the surface of the paper.

“Very well, Master Lofty,” the nanny said.  “Let me get the young master cleaned up, and he’ll be ready for company.”

“You know what, Nanny?  I’ll give my son a bath.  Take the rest of the day off.  I’ll take my son off your hooves for the rest of the day.”

“Very well,” Nanny Brushstroke said formally, though Lofty could see the approval in her eyes.  She was always too professional to say anything, but he could tell she approved of him and his relationship with his son.  “Master True?  It is time to clean up before dinner.  Your father will see to your bath.”

“BAFTIME!” True cried out, splashing paint everywhere as he clopped his front hooves together.   True was practically a painting himself, with splotches of wet paint matting fur, hooves, tail, and mane.  Suddenly he noticed the stranger standing behind his father, and he shrunk down, his eyes wide. 

“Don’t be afraid, little one,” Emberglow said gently.  “I’m just a friend of your father.”  Nanny Brushstroke had been about to leave the room, but she made sure to give Lofty and Emberglow an appraising look as she left.  Perhaps the nanny’s approval wasn’t exactly absolute.

For convenience and sanity, the art room was directly adjacent to True’s bathroom.  Lofty stepped over and opened the bathroom door.

“Okay, True.  Into the tub with you,” Lofty said.  True glanced apprehensively between Lofty and Emberglow, clearly a little apprehensive with a stranger present.  He finally slunk past his father into the large porcelain bathtub.  Once inside his trepidation seemed to evaporate, and he began to prance and clop around in the tub. 

“Rain, rain, rain!” True chanted, and Lofty obliged his son by turning on the shower.  Emberglow laughed as the tiny foal capered about in the flow.

“It may not be the most efficient method for cleaning a foal, but…” Lofty trailed off, watching True at play.

“It’s too cute,” Emberglow finished, and Lofty nodded.  “You definitely made the right choice, choosing him over Knighthood.”  She seemed to realize what she was saying a little too late, and flinched.  “I’m sorry, Lofty, I d-didn’t mean to…”

“Hush.  It’s fine,” Lofty said, getting drenched up to his shoulders while he tried his best to rinse the paint from his son.  True wasn’t paying attention to a word of their conversation; he was far too busy trying to splatter as much paint on his father as Lofty was cleaning off of him.  Fortunately, Emberglow didn’t seem to mind the bits that splattered onto her makeshift dress.

A few soggy minutes later, two damp grown ponies and one fluffy, toweled off foal entered the Tale dining room.  Emberglow had tried to refuse Lofty’s invitation for a meal, but he could sense her heart wasn’t in it.  She looked gaunt, and given her physical state probably hadn’t had a decent meal in a while.

“Whatever you do, though, don’t engage my grandfather.  Righteous gets his kicks from pushing a pony’s buttons, and you probably don’t want to get him going.  Just ignore him, or give one-word answers.  Be vague, let him make his own faulty assumptions, and he’ll leave you alone.”

Personally, Lofty hated taking meals in the dining hall.  It was huge and impersonal, all cold, lacquered wood and tall family portraits of dead ponies with judgmental eyes.  But Righteous demanded they eat there at least once a day.  Lofty could have fought him, but it wasn’t worth the battle.  On top of that, if Lofty tried to conceal Emberglow’s presence, Righteous would surely notice and become even more unbearable.  The only upside was that True would be joining them.   The foal’s presence always seemed to calm his grandfather’s worst impulses.

When the chef brought out their steaming dinner platters, though, Lofty’s grandfather was nowhere to be seen.  Lofty was beginning to get hopeful as he helped True with his dinner.  The chef was skilled, and her amazing creations always somehow managed to convince True to clean his plate.  Tonight it was spinach linguine with red sauce, and Lofty’s heart sank.  He had just bathed True.  There was no way this didn’t end in the kind of disaster that only a toddler with pasta could manage.

Just when Emberglow had managed to come out of her funk long enough to start enjoying the meal, the dining hall doors slammed open, and Righteous stumbled in, lurching with the uneven gait of a drunkard.  The smell of booze wafted in just after him.

Righteous Tale was an old pony, with a gently protruding beer gut and a permanently sour expression.  His grey eyes, when not hazed over with drink, were piercing.  Despite age and vice, he still retained some of the handsomeness of his youth, something Lofty had been assured repeatedly that he had inherited.  Righteous’ fur was a navy blue, and he kept his darker blue mane cut short and clean.  Lofty was always surprised that his grandfather looked so well-maintained, even after day drinking.

“You started without me?” Righteous accused as he trotted over to the table.  His eyes found Emberglow and narrowed.

“You were late,” Lofty reasoned.  “I wasn’t going to make True wait for his meal.”  The mention of his son was calculated; Righteous was much less combative with his grandfoal around.

“That’s right,” Righteous said affectionately, and Lofty had to stop from rolling his eyes.  “Eat up, little colt.  Is it good?”

“Yeth!” True said, splattering half-chewed pasta out of his mouth as he spoke.  Righteous smiled indulgently as Lofty cleaned the foal’s chin.

“So who is your guest?” Righteous asked, his voice dripping with implication.  Lofty sighed.  At least subtext and innuendo were better than outright accusation and argument in front of the foal.

“An old friend,” Lofty replied vaguely.  Righteous scowled at him.

“Is that the phrase they’re using these days?” Righteous said contemptuously.  “Seems to me that even with your stipend, you could afford a little better than an ‘old friend’.”  Emberglow bristled beside him, and Lofty held out a hoof to calm her.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Lofty shot back.  He knew Righteous wouldn’t push the issue too far into specifics as long as True was in the room, though he was fully dreading being cornered by the old stallion later.  Righteous harrumphed and dug into his pasta.

“What is your name, ‘old friend’?” Righteous said to Emberglow after eating a mouthful of pasta, a touch more politely.  Emberglow glanced up from her meal, her face thoughtful.

“Emberglow,” she replied after a pause.  Lofty flinched.  For a moment he thought Righteous’ eyes flashed with recognition, though Lofty was sure he had imagined it.  It was gone in an instant, but it filled Lofty with dread.  The less his grandfather knew about Emberglow, the better.

“And if not for business, what are you doing here?” Righteous asked bluntly.  Emberglow opened her mouth to respond, but Lofty cut her off.

“She’s eating dinner, grandfather.  And apparently being interrogated by a rude, drunk old stallion,” he said cuttingly.  “She’s a friend that needed help.  She’ll be staying with us for a while.”  He declared it as if fact, and Righteous scowled.  Lofty did his best to ignore his grandfather while he finished his meal, and Emberglow retreated into an unsure sort of silence.

After dinner and dessert, Righteous Tale excused himself and left the dining hall, probably to find another bottle as Lofty had forbidden drinking in front of his son.  True was flagging in his foal chair, so Lofty plucked him up and placed True on his back.

“C’mon, munchkin.  Let’s get you cleaned up a bit and then off to bed for story time.”

“Bursh teef,” True muttered sleepily, and Lofty laughed.

“Of course, you still have to brush your teeth.  Good boy,” Lofty said.  He trotted out of the room and Emberglow followed, looking a bit like a lost, beaten puppy.  He wanted nothing more than to help talk her through whatever had happened to her, but she wasn’t ready just yet.  He took her to the library; one place in the manor he was sure Righteous never haunted.  It wasn’t huge, but there was a large comfy chair and plenty of books for her to glance through, if she wanted.

“Stay here for now,” Lofty told her.  “I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay,” Emberglow said tiredly.  He closed the door to the library behind him softly and trotted off to True’s room to get the little colt into bed.  Grace had once criticized him for being so involved in the actual care part of foalcare, the details and the chores such as overseeing bedtime, but he preferred his hooves-on approach.

It took only a few minutes to get True wiped down, teeth brushed, storied, and tucked into bed.  A growing sense of nervousness began to fill his heart as he trotted back to the library with a quick pace; what was going on with his friend?  What had she meant with all of her vague statements?  He had to stop himself from impatiently rushing back to the library.

As he reached the room, he drew up in horror when he saw the door open, and heard his grandfather’s voice from inside.  Angrilly, he marched through the door, pushing it open hard with one hoof.

Emberglow and Righteous were both standing on their hooves, facing each other.  Emberglow looked defiant, and Righteous looked angry.  Strangely, his grandfather looked much more sober than he had at dinner, and even didn’t smell of alcohol.

“Grandson, I love you,” Righteous began gruffly, and Lofty snorted in disbelief.  “But you need to turn around, close that door, and don’t listen in to what I have to say to your ‘old friend’.”  Lofty suddenly recalled the look of recognition Righteous had given her at dinner, at the mention of her name.

“Not a chance,” he said, moving up to stand alongside Emberglow.  She shot him a grateful look.  “You don’t have the best reputation when it comes to mares, grandfather.”

“Oh, so the knives are coming out now that your colt is in bed?” Righteous snarled.  “Very well.  If you want to have it that way.  I had hoped to spare you this, grandson.  I really did.  Sit down, both of you, and keep your maws shut until I’m done.  I’m going to tell you about the Tale family failsafe.  Maybe then we can get rid of this mare, and the danger she poses to all of us, before the Mystics swoop down and black bag us all.”

“What…” Lofty tried to get out, and Righteous made a violent slashing motion with his hoof.

“I said shut up!” Righteous yelled, and both younger ponies looked at him in shock. After being assured of their silence, he continued. “There’s an idea, see.  A theory.  A theocracy like the Diarchy can never last forever.  Eventually, it’s going to collapse in on itself.  Maybe it’ll be outside pressure.  Maybe civil war, heresy from the inside.  Maybe it just fades away.  But someday, the Diarchy won’t be around any longer.”

“How can you say that?” Lofty interjected.  “The Saints say…”

“I’m talking about facts, boy, not feel good stories from the scriptures.  And the fact is, when that day comes, the Tale family’s always going to have somebody on the other side.”  Righteous paused for a moment, taking in Lofty’s stricken look with a sickening grin.  “It's for survival, see?  What happens if New Canterlot City falls to some sort of peasant riot, and they decide to start chopping the heads off of all their ‘noble pony oppressors’?  Or maybe those psycho Discordant takes over, and decides to shove all the nobles down in the dirt with everypony else.  The Tales have always had at least one pony on the other side, to plead our case if that ever happens.”

“You’re a heretic?” Lofty whispered.  Righteous snorted.

“No, I’m a loyal family stallion.  I love our family, boy.  The Tale family has to survive whatever happens.  It probably won’t be during my lifetime, so I just have to lay low, follow orders whenever a Discordant drops them by, and pass on my responsibilities to the next failsafe.  Which is you.  Congratulations,” he finished with a twisted grin.

“No.  No, I won’t.  Pick somepony else,” Lofty stammered.

“I can’t.  You volunteered when you put a foal in that idiot slut of yours,” Righteous said.  “And now you’re bringing deserters home.  A deserter, mind you, whose name is on a missive I got direct from the stallion in charge of all heretics.  Tell me, girly.  How does Sir Heartwing know your name?  And why does he order any and all agents to help you and keep you safe?”

As Righteous spoke, Emberglow’s face slowly darkened with anger, though she said nothing.  Lofty simply stared, completely floored.  Emberglow, a heretic?  She’d admitted as much earlier, maybe, but he’d assumed she’d been exaggerating.  But his grandfather?  He felt like his legs had just been cut out from under him.

“Not going to answer me?” Righteous asked.  “Fine.  Then I want you out of my house.  Tonight.  Every second you stay is a danger to me and mine.  You’re not welcome here, Emberglow.”

“I say she is,” Lofty said, stepping alongside Emberglow to present a united front.

“I’m in charge here, grandson,” Righteous said threateningly.  “You don’t get to decide who stays and who goes.”

“I get to decide more than you think,” Lofty shot back.  “If you’re going to kick out my friend here you’re going to need somepony to help you, because I’ll stop you.  So call the police to evict her.  I’ll be right here when they start asking uncomfortable questions, and I’ll be in the cell beside yours when the Mystics carry us all away.”  He had to fight to keep the quiver of terror from his voice; Lofty had never stood up to Righteous Tale before; his strategy had always been to deflect, ignore, redirect, or downplay.

The two stallions stared at each other, eyes locked.  Lofty couldn’t even look away to see how his friend was doing.  The time ticked by, silent and thick.  Lofty could feel the pounding of each heartbeat in his head as his pulse raced.  A bead of sweat dripped down, just behind his right ear, and it took all his willpower not to flick it away.  Maybe it was stupid pride, but he wasn’t about to lose this staring contest.

Finally Righteous scowled and shook his head, breaking the silence and the standoff.

“It’s on your head then, foal,” he growled.  “You’ve made your choice, you’re locked in now.  Well done, young man.  You’ll be a fine failsafe after me.”  His laugh was bitter, and he turned to Emberglow.  “What did you have this young idiot helping you with?  I’ll pitch a hoof.  The faster you get what you need, little heretic, the faster my great grandfoal gets out of danger.”

“Don’t call me that,” Emberglow protested, but there was little energy behind her words, and her face twisted with guilt.  “I need to find Steadfast Word, of the Knights Mystic.  Then I can leave.”

“Leave where?” Lofty asked, ignoring a quelling glance from Righteous.

“You don’t need to know,” Righteous interrupted as Emberglow opened her mouth to respond.  “That’s the first rule for our job, boy.  The less you know, the less danger you are to the family.  We do the bare minimum to fulfil our ‘duties’ to Heartwing and his fools, and expose ourselves to as little danger as possible.”

“Maybe that was your rule, coward,” Lofty spat, his anger bubbling out like boiling water.  “But if you’re going to force me into this, I’m going to do it my way, understand?”  There was a subtle shift in Righteous Tale’s expression, a reluctant nod, and Lofty palpably felt the power in the room shift.

“Very well, grandson,” Righteous allowed.  Lofty had to stop his jaw from dropping at the submissive tone.  “Whatever you like.  I still recommend we get Miss Emberglow whatever she needs, as quickly as possible.”  It was funny how quickly he’d shifted from ‘little heretic’ to ‘Miss Emberglow’.  Perhaps his grandfather was much more two-faced than he’d realized.

“I can’t stay long,” Emberglow said.  “I just need to confront Steadfast, then I’ll go…” she trailed off.  “Go back, I guess.  I don’t even know how to find…”  She froze, as if unable to say what came next.

“I’ll find him for you,” Righteous said.  “Lofty, you need to lay low with your marefriend here.  Say nothing to anypony.  Your sister will make accusations.  Your confessor will probe.  Say nothing, but deny nothing.  You will be protected by a cloak of scandal and shame.  Let them make assumptions.”

So much about Lofty’s grandfather was becoming distressingly clear to him right now.  The casual way Righteous had alienated the rest of the family, the unsavory behaviors, the drinking and promiscuous behaviors, even the embarrassing things he said whenever in public, all appeared so very calculated to Lofty now.  Righteous had always seemed to hover on the fringes of every family event or conversation, at once a part of, but completely separate from, every other Tale.  He wondered, with a frightened shudder, if that was what his future now held for him: an unpleasant act, to be hated and disdained by his entire family.  It was cold comfort that he was already mostly there.

“We’ll try it your way for now,” Lofty said carefully, eying his grandfather.  They were in for some long conversations later, he was sure.  “You say you’ll find Steadfast?”

“I have better contacts than you do, Lofty,” Righteous said.  His tone had become businesslike, but also more respectful, furthering Lofty’s perception that much of his grandfather’s outrageous behavior, probably for Lofty’s entire life, had been an act.  “I’ll see to the work.  Meanwhile, you should show Emberglow to the guest suite.  I’ll arrange for some new clothing,” he said to Emberglow.  “You stand out too much in that.”  He raised his eyebrows as if waiting for something. 

“Sounds good.  Thank you, grandfather,” Lofty said with polite dismissal, and Righteous nodded his approval.  Lofty’s anger was still there, but at a low simmer.  If Righteous could behave himself, then so could Lofty.  Without another word, Righteous turned and left the library, leaving Emberglow and Lofty in uncomfortable silence.  Lofty looked away, thinking of what to say next.

“Well…” he began, only to pause as he heard a sob.  He turned to look at his friend.  Tears were leaking down Emberglow’s cheeks as she wept.  “Wait, Emberglow, are you okay?” he asked, feeling a sudden wave of panic.  He reached out to encircle her in a comforting hug, and she jerked away.

“No!  No, Lofty, I sh-should leave right now!  I’ve ruined your life!” she gasped, her eyes wide with fear and regret.  “This was s-such a mistake, I never should have…”  She backed away from him, stumbling into a cushion and nearly tumbling onto the floor.  He seized his opportunity, lunging quickly with his hooves so he could grab her with his forehooves.

“Shush, Emberglow, shush,” he said, crushing her to him in an embrace.  She was shaking and sobbing, but didn’t try to escape his hug.  He let her cry for a few minutes.  “You heard what Righteous said.  I think he was grooming me for this for a while now.  You did nothing wrong.  In fact, you did something very right.”

“I did?” Emberglow whimpered, pushing away from his hooves and sniffing.

“You came to me when you needed help,” Lofty said.  Emberglow sniffed again, then laughed weakly.  “I’m serious.  I’ll always help you, Emberglow.  Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, Lofty,” Emberglow said, then stepped away, looking embarrassed.  He gave her a confident smile, though inwardly he was terrified.

Emberglow had always been a rock; confident, unmovable, faithful.  Sure, she’d had an understandable breakdown at the Ivy Seminary when months of constant bullying had finally come to a head, but she’d grown past that, or so he thought.  The mare in front of him proved otherwise — she was emotional, unstable, and terrified. 

“C’mon,” he said softly.  “Let me show you to your room.  Whatever Righteous says, you can stay as long as you need to, okay?”  She trotted after him soundlessly. 

The manor had two guest rooms, though neither one had been used within the last few months.  Lofty took Emberglow to the furthest guest room from Righteous’ room; the old stallion’s behavior, both recent and not, was troubling Lofty.  The less contact between Righteous and Emberglow, the better.  Hopefully his grandfather would be busy doing as he had said, trying to find out where Sir Steadfast was.  Lofty didn’t know Emberglow’s old mentor, but he assumed the stallion was still stationed at the inquisition building.

“I don’t have a lot of servants in the manor,” Lofty said, before remembering belatedly that this wouldn’t matter much to Emberglow.  “So if you need anything, let me know.”  He hesitated at the door to the guest room.  “I guess you don’t have to hide anything from me any longer.”  He felt a surge of bitterness at his powerlessness; Righteous had taken his choice about whether or not to become involved in all this away entirely.

“Your grandfather is right,” Emberglow argued.  “The less you know, the better.”

“Did you really meet him?” Lofty asked, ignoring her.  “The head of the Discordant?”

“Yeah,” Emberglow sighed after a long pause.  “I did.”

“What was he like?”

“Odd,” Emberglow said thoughtfully.  “He seemed genuinely regretful to be fighting us.  He tried several times to convince Brightblade, our commander, to leave Manehatten.  When an explosion trapped the both of us in a cave, he talked to me instead of fighting.  Even bandaged my wounds and found food for both of us.”

“What happened?” Lofty said, curious.  Emberglow flinched and shook her head.

“I… we found what we were looking for.  The Mystics had been detecting unusual motic radiation.  While I was trapped in the cave with Heartwing, we found it.  It was a pony, trapped in a stasis spell for a thousand years.”

“You can’t be serious,” Lofty gasped.  “Truly?”

“I did the medical scans myself.  The mare we found was genuinely from a thousand years ago.”

“Tell me about her.  What did she say?  What happened?” Lofty demanded.  Emberglow’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t want to know this, Lofty.  You can’t go back from this.  I couldn’t.”

“I don’t have much choice,” Lofty muttered, trying not to sound bitter about it.  “Who was in that cave, Emberglow?”

She took a deep breath. “It was Lady Rarity.”  
> Interlude: Admissions of Guilt
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: Admissions of Guilt


            	Sir Brightblade was a slumped, defeated pony as he plodded into Steadfast’s large, military-style tent.  He still felt as if his body carried the weight of all the wounds he’d amassed in Manehatten, even if the Knights Radiant had cleared him to return to his duties.  His first stop after that had been to the griffon front, where Steadfast had been stationed for the last month. 

            	It had been early in the morning when Brightblade had arrived by catching a ride on a supply train.  They weren’t the accommodations he was used to, but he was unworthy of luxury or comfort right now.  After several hours in a rattling train, with only limp straw as a mattress, Brightblade was stiff, sore, and depressed.  Still, an uncomfortable train was a step up from a tent in a Saints-forsaken nightmare city, surrounded by heretics. 

            	Steadfast was awake and in his office-style tent, as Brightblade had expected.  His mentor had always been hardworking and studious.  Despite the pre-dawn time, Steadfast was sitting at a small folding desk, pouring over some reports by the light of a gas lamp.  He glanced up as Brightblade entered, smiling widely at him.

            	“Brightblade!  It is good to see you, young stallion,” Steadfast said, and Brightblade cringed.  He didn’t deserve Steadfast’s acceptance, or his friendship.  “I didn’t know you’d been assigned out here.”

            	“I haven’t, sir,” Brightblade confessed.  “I’m on medical leave, still.”

            	“Oh?  What brings you to me, then?” Steadfast asked, his expression growing concerned.

            	“I’m here to submit myself to you for judgement, sir,” Brightblade said.  Concern shifted to grave solemnity in Steadfast’s eyes.

            	“And what grave sin do you believe yourself guilty of?” Steadfast asked gently.  Brightblade gaped at him.

            	“Sir, you can’t be serious.  You read my report of our failure in Manehatten.  You know exactly….”

            	“Hold a moment, Brightblade,” Steadfast interrupted.  “I did read your report, yes.  In my mind, you did the best you could given limited resources.”  Brightblade’s jaw dropped.  Was Steadfast even speaking of the same report?  He was quite sure he’d been very explicit about his failures when he’d written it.  “Or is there something you wish to add?  Why else come all the way here in pony?”

            	“There is, sir,” Brightblade murmured.  “A personal apology.”

            	“I hardly think one necessary,” Steadfast replied.  “But go on.”

            	“It’s about your student, Emberglow.  I… I hated her, sir.  I persecuted her, made all sorts of accusations, argued with her judgement.  There were times I became irrational, emotional, and even violent, and she defied me.  She was right to do so, sir.  I was so sure it was a sign she was a heretic.  That she had somehow been tainted by her mission before mine.  I was sure you had been deceived by her as well, and that you were a fool for trusting her, and sending her with me to Manehatten.”

            	“What changed your mind?” Steadfast asked.

            	“She saved my life, sir, by sacrificing her own,” Brightblade admitted.  “I know the report officially lists her as missing in action, but I don’t believe she could have survived the explosion I saw.  She took on a heretic veteran, somepony who would probably have defeated me, to give me and the others a chance to escape.”  He paused, looking up at his patient mentor.  Steadfast’s face was a mask of polite concern.  “I… I feel so guilty, sir.  I have done her a wrong, and you as well for not trusting you.”  He fell silent, waiting for the judgement he was sure he deserved. 

            	“Hmm,” Steadfast pursed his lips thoughtfully.  He moved to where Brightblade stood, stiff and bowed.  Brightblade nearly flinched away when a gentle, comforting hoof touched his chin and lifted his gaze.  “Your suspicion may have been wrong, my young friend, but it was not sinful.”

            	“Sir?” Brightblade asked, confused.

            	“Even now, I believe there are traitors in the ranks of the Knights,” Steadfast said, his voice low and fervent.  “The official line, taught to civilians, is that actual traitors, those who betray our ranks for the Discordant, are rare.  You and I both know better.  Sometimes the masses need to be told a comforting lie, rather than the harsh truths we both bear.”

            	“What are you talking about, sir?” Brightblade asked.

            	“Big things are coming, Brightblade.  Changes.  Upheavals.”  Steadfast turned and backed away, his voice light and tentative.  “I need somepony like you.  Somepony who is suspicious.  Skeptical.”

            	“You need me, sir?” Brightblade whispered.  He shivered, both from the unfamiliarly cold air and the sudden sensation of both excitement and dread.  “What for?”

            	“I need ponies I can trust.  Ponies I am absolutely sure are not traitors in the ranks, Brightblade.  I know you were suspicious of Emberglow, but I honestly thought she could be one of those ponies.  Now she is gone.  There are vicious traitors that want to drive wedges of suspicion and hatred between us all.”  Steadfast suddenly turned back to face Brightblade, his eyes alight with intensity.

            	“Y-you can trust me, sir,” Brightblade affirmed, stammering at the sudden thrill of fear he felt.  “You’ve always been a support for me.  Ever since you took an interest in me while I was in the Seminary, you’ve been there every step of my Knighthood.”

            	“I need you to know you can trust me, too,” Steadfast returned.  Brightblade was nodding before he even finished speaking.

            	“I do, sir.”

            	“Oh?” Steadfast asked.  “But you doubted Emberglow.  A pony I suggested, and put under your command.”  Once again guilt stabbed through Brightblade’s heart, tearing its way through him. 

            	“No!  I, uh…” Brightblade reeled, grasping for a way to refute the accusation.

            	“Don’t worry, Brightblade.  We all have moments of weakness,” Steadfast interrupted.  “I would like to know, though, what made you doubt Emberglow?  Or rather, who?”

            	Brightblade’s heart froze, and he stopped breathing.  Brightblade knew exactly who had made him doubt Emberglow’s loyalty.  He knew very well, because the pony in charge of investigating Emberglow after her last ill-fated mission had been his sister Hollybright.  What was Steadfast suggesting?

            	“Tell me, Brightblade,” Steadfast whispered, stepping closer to Brightblade so their muzzles were nearly touching.  Steadfast’s eyes bored into him, practically reading his thoughts and laying his soul bare.  “How close are you to your sister?”
> Chapter 26
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 26


            	Hoof-painted sign posted outside Needle Point Textiles, Merchant’s Walk, New Canterlot City


PRAY FOR OUR DAUGHTER LADY EMBERGLOW



MISSING IN ACTION


1112 AF, Camp Borealis, Griffon War Front

            	Emberglow was absolutely questioning her own sanity.  She had been for several weeks now.

       	Maybe it was the nightmares.  The ones that began and ended with the face of the stallion she’d killed.  Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the exhaustion.  Maybe it was the crushing guilt, the loneliness, the terror.  She wasn’t sure.

            	Flying over the northern part of the Diarchy brought Emberglow views and perspectives she’d never seen before.  There were miles and miles of farmland, tended by drab, hopeless-looking ponies.  She never descended far enough to speak with any of them, but the empty looks they shot up at her as she flew past spoke volumes.  She knew from her education that the areas between New Canterlot City and the griffon frontier were where most of the city’s food came from, but while flying overhead, she realized she knew nearly nothing about the ponies that grew it.  She would have stopped to meet them if she had had time.  She was sure that her knowledge of life outside of the City was woefully incomplete.

            	As Emberglow neared her destination, the open plains of crops slowly dissolved into miles and miles of unclaimed land and sparse forests, and she felt herself becoming increasingly fearful of what was to come.  This whole trip had been a terrible idea.  She should have stayed with Heartwing and Rarity.

            	Rarity.  Not Saint Rarity, not Lady Rarity.  Just Rarity.  Thinking of the mare that way still sent a sinful thrill down her spine, even though she’d thought about Rarity quite a bit the last few weeks.  She’d had little else to do but think while she had been trying to avoid Righteous Tale. 

            	Honestly, she didn’t know what to think about Rarity.  For years she’d studied the stories of a legend, a myth.  The tales of Saint Rarity had been her favorite, obviously.  Even as a foal, Emberglow had loved reading about Saint Rarity’s single combat against the canine monsters, her struggle against the wicked Suri Polomare, or even the less martial stories such as when Saint Rarity and Saint Applejack had rebuilt an abandoned cathedral in Manehattan.  Learning all those things had been myths had been jarring, yes.  And yet…

            	And yet Emberglow would remember forever the way Rarity had held her while she’d cried her eyes out when she had learned the truth about her brother.  Rarity wasn’t some myth, she was a real, flesh and fur pony.  And the reality had been warm and kind, comforting and… real.  More real than anything in a book.

            	She shook her head, clearing it. Those sorts of thoughts were distracting from her task at hoof, and she didn’t have time to think about Rarity.  However ill advised it might be, she still had a mission.  Sir Steadfast had been her mentor, and her friend, since she had been an older foal.  Steadfast had been there for her brother.  She had to speak with him.  She had to know the truth about unicorns, about the Mystics, about the Diarchy itself.  She couldn’t decide how to proceed with her own life until she was sure.

            	Of course, she wasn’t so foolish as to not see the danger.  Sir Steadfast was a Knight Mystic.  It was practically his job to seek out ponies who had fallen from the faith, ponies like Emberglow now, and bring them back. 

            	Emberglow knew that if she told him everything, Steadfast would try to arrest her.  Hopefully she wouldn’t have to; hopefully she’d be able to speak with him, to learn what she needed, and then escape.  Recent history, however, had revealed just how naive she was.  She knew better than to hope that this would go well, but she was prepared to fly away when it didn’t.

            	Her first problem, though, would be getting inside the camp itself.  Emberglow knew she was woefully bad at deception; telling falsehoods was something she’d never had much success with.  She couldn’t really sneak in either; while Camp Borealis wasn’t a forward military camp, it would still have sentries and security patrols.  She certainly couldn’t fight her way in.  

Right now, Emberglow’s plan involved simply flying into camp and asking for Steadfast by name. It would be a shock to see her, as she had probably been declared missing in action, but she hoped their friendship was enough that he would at least speak with her.  It was dangerous, but probably the best option she had.  She only hoped that she could get in to see him without too many other ponies getting involved; the fewer ponies who knew she was there, the more likely she was going to be able to escape if things went poorly. 

            	Emberglow spotted the camp from a distance as she was still mulling over her plans in her head.  It was small, about the same size as her camp back in Manehattan had been, with enough tents for only about twenty or so ponies.  There was a large command tent in the center of the camp, with a purple canvas tent next to it that bore the painted symbol of Saint Twilight.  Emberglow landed on a low cloud and furled her wings, looking down at the camp.  She was close enough now that any pegasus sentries would be by very soon to challenge the strange pegasus looking down on their camp, so she waited quietly, trying to rein in her shaking and her pounding heart.

            	It only took a minute before a pair of pegasus guards, wearing army uniforms, flew up to challenge her.  She tried to make herself look as unthreatening as possible.

            	“You there!  State your name and your reasons for being here!” one of them shouted, leveling a rifle in Emberglow’s direction.  She looked at the weapon with not a small amount of fear; she was wearing civilian clothing now, not the enchanted heavy armor that would protect her from the hot lead the weapon could spit out.  It was odd that something so inconsequential to her before could suddenly inspire such apprehension.

            	“I need to speak with Sir Steadfast,” she said.  They would probably ask fewer questions if she respectfully used his title like that, even though she was technically still a Knight herself.

            	“Regarding what?” the guard said menacingly.  “Who are you?”

            	“My name is Emberglow,” she admitted, inwardly flinching.  She hadn’t wanted to use her name.  “And it is a personal matter.  Please, take me to him so we may speak.”  The two guards looked at each other, then back at her.  It took all the self-control she had not to shake in front of them.  She was nervous about the weapons, partly, but mostly it was the sense of impending disaster she felt.  Her fur stood up along her neck, and her ears were twitching.  She had to consciously keep her tail from lashing back and forth with agitation.  She knew the guards might pick up on her nervous signals, and it would color their reactions to her, so she tried to remain as calm as possible.

            	“Come with us,” one of the guards said finally, as the other swooped around behind her with his weapon trained on her.  Emberglow tried not to glance behind at the barrel of the lethal weapon pointed her way.  “Fly straight, no deviation or sudden movement, or we will fire on you.”

            	“Yes, sir,” she said automatically, years of Knight training and time spent around military ponies making the response nearly second nature.  She spread her wings and glided down into the camp, surrounded front and back by the two armed soldiers.  They made straight for the purple canvas tent, landing just outside the door flap. 

In the camp, army ponies milled about, drilling, sparring, and going about their chores.  A few glanced her way but said nothing.  Emberglow caught sight of a single Knight, a blue-armored Knight Adamant pegasus stallion.  Her breath caught in her throat; a pegasus Knight meant flying away would be a much less valid option if things went poorly.

“Sir Steadfast?” The lead soldier poked his head into the tent, announcing himself in a soft voice.  Emberglow didn’t hear the response.  “There’s a pony here who wants to see you, sir.  She says her name is Emberglow.”  There was another pause, and Emberglow thought she heard a startled exclamation, before the soldier spoke one more time.  “Yes sir.  Pegasus mare, red mane, light pink fur.  No armor.”  

The soldier pulled his head out of the tent, looking Emberglow up and down skeptically.  “He says go on in, Lady Emberglow,” the soldier said, his voice hesitating briefly on the title.  Apparently Steadfast had said something about her Knighthood.  She nodded and took a deep breath before slipping past the soldier and into the tent.

Just like his office back in the city, Steadfast’s tent was an exercise in barely controlled chaos.  There was a portable writing desk strewn with papers, as well as a small pile of crates in one corner, stacked haphazardly.  The smell of the tent, that of military ponies who had sporadic access to indoor showering facilities, was familiar to Emberglow, bringing back memories of her time in Manehattan.  A brown, dusty area rug covered the ground under her hooves.  The tent had one occupant; Sir Steadfast, dressed in the purple armor of his Order.

“You are the absolute last pony I expected to walk into my tent, young lady,” Steadfast said.  His voice was soft and low, with a hint of suspicion that Emberglow had never heard him use before.  It made her shrink a bit. 

“Yes, sir.  I…” she began.

“Stop.  I need to be sure.  Emberglow, the second time we ever met, what artifact did I show you?”

The question threw her for a loop. The second time they’d met? That would have been her interview, back when she had been twelve.   He hadn’t shown her an artifact then.   He had shown her…

“…a photograph?” Emberglow said, confused.  “It was of Lady Rainbow, injured, and the nurse who treated her.  Redheart, I think you said her name was.  The one with the cutie mark just like mine.”

Steadfast’s face visibly relaxed, and the tension slipped out of his body.  Quickly he trotted over and wrapped his hooves around Emberglow in a tight embrace.

“Oh, Emberglow, I’m so sorry.  I had to be sure it was you,” he said softly.  She found herself returning the embrace, to her own surprise.

“Sure, sir?  But there’s no illusion magic strong enough to disguise a pony that completely.”

“Don’t be so certain.” Steadfast smiled mysteriously as he stepped back from the embrace.  He motioned to a pillow next to his desk.  “You look exhausted.  Come, have a seat.”  

She sat down, her mind racing with incoherent thoughts and conflicting emotions.  Where did she begin?  

Mercifully, Steadfast spoke first. “Emberglow, I…” he hesitated, then continued.  “What are you doing here?  My last report said you were missing in action.  Brightblade is convinced you died after saving his life.  And you’re not in robes or armor.  What’s going on?  What happened?”

“Where do you want me to start?” Emberglow asked.  She wanted to get her questions out of the way as quickly as possible, but she was having a hard time thinking of how to broach the subject with her mentor.  It was probably best to answer a few of his questions, first, anyway — to immediately start flinging dangerous questions at him would definitely seem suspicious.

“Brightblade’s report covered just up to where you were distracting the Discordant so that the rest of the ponies could retreat.  Then there was an explosion.  Brightblade said it was a misfired unicorn spell?  After that, he said he lost track of the both of you.”

“It was a teleportation spell, I think.  When it misfired, it exploded and I woke up in the Manehattan caves, deep underground.”

“By yourself?” Steadfast asked.  

There it was.  Emberglow could try to lie, but she was sure that would end in even more questions. 

“N-no,” she stammered.  She hoped that he wouldn’t read too much into her nervous fear.  She knew better, but she hoped anyway.  “The heretic was there—”

“You encountered the heretic?” Steadfast leaned forward. His face was neutral, but there was something just slightly off in the calm, casual tone he used, a small strain in his voice that she only noticed from having known him for so many years. It made her fur stand on end.

“…yes. We spoke, briefly,” Emberglow admitted reluctantly.  “It was a dire situation.  We agreed to not fight until we found a way out of the caves.  Once we got out, I flew away as fast as I could.”

Steadfast was silent, but as the seconds ticked on, Emberglow could feel the tension behind Steadfast’s calm expression.  She had always thought him to be different from the common stereotype of Mystics, but now she could see the danger in his calculating eyes.  They seemed to peer straight through her, exposing her deepest secrets. She shivered slightly.

It was a while before he spoke again. “And what about the readings you were sent to investigate?” 

The change in subject caught her slightly off guard. “I—I found nothing,” she answered. The lie burned in her throat, and she hated herself a little for saying it, even given the circumstances.

“I see,” Steadfast said, disappointed.  “Well, tell me about the heretic, then.”

“I spoke to him as little as possible,” Emberglow lied again.  “The caves were deadly.  There were creatures down there, horrible mutated monsters, and a maze of tunnels.  Honestly, if not for our truce, I never would have gotten out alive.”

“You’re saying that you know nothing about the heretic?” Steadfast asked, squinting at her.

She answered quickly, flustered. “Well, we didn’t really talk that much—”

“But you really didn’t pick up anything?” Steadfast interrupted reproachfully. “I know you’re a much smarter pony than that, Emberglow.”

Emberglow cringed internally. “No, of course I did, sir.” Of course Steadfast would see through her feeble attempts at deception. 

Steadfast placed a hoof on hers, and she tensed, almost flinching back instinctively. “Emberglow, I can tell you’re uneasy discussing this. Believe me, I understand better than anyone the reputation of the Knights Mystic. But you should know, this could be important information for our war effort.” He smiled a small smile, and she found herself wanting to trust him, despite the circumstances. “Tell me honestly, Emberglow. Did you find out anything about that heretic?”

Emberglow took a breath before she spoke. “He said his name was Heartwing,” she began. “He had oddly colored eyes, and he was weirdly cheerful a lot of the time.  Like, he liked to joke, and he took very little seriously.”  

She felt like she was rambling from point to point, trying to spout off enough safe information to satisfy her mentor.  Steadfast didn’t visibly react, his eyes steady on hers the entire time.  “Um, he was a very skilled fighter.  We were attacked by a monster, a two headed dog, and he was quite adept at keeping the creature at bay.”

“That must have been interesting to see,” Steadfast mused softly.   “So then, what happened after you got out? I assume you got away from the heretics without too much trouble. Did you just fly all the way here?”  

The question caught her off guard.  She’d been expecting him to ask more about Heartwing.  About the things they’d spoken about, about what they had seen and done together.  It was rather unexpected, and it set her on edge.

“Without checking in with your Sisters at Diamond Home, of course.  Otherwise you would no longer be listed as missing in action.  But of course, that was weeks ago.  You stopped over somewhere else, first.  But it wasn’t your family.”  With each sentence, Emberglow’s pulse quickened.  “Where did you go, Emberglow?”

“I didn’t go anywhere,” Emberglow answered, another lie sticking in her throat.  “I was injured in the battle.  It took me longer than I’d thought to fly back.”

“That makes sense,” Steadfast mused.  “Though, of course, you could simply have flown to any of your Sisters to heal you.  Including those in the capital.  I’m very curious to find out why not.  And maybe also learn how you found where I was.” Emberglow said nothing and stood silently, her mind reeling for something to say.  “But I’m sure you had your reasons, young lady.  What I’m more curious about is, why did you come find me?”

“I came because you’re my friend, sir,” she pleaded.  “You always have been a source of strength and inspiration for me.  I had to know…” she trailed off.

“Know what, Emberglow?” Steadfast asked, his voice compassionate. 

“Is my brother alive?” she whispered, unable to keep the desperation out of her voice.  

“Oh, Emberglow.”  A mournful look passed over Steadfast’s face, before being quickly replaced by an unreadable, neutral mask. “You know as well as I that even we Mystics have very limited contact with the de-horned colonies.  I really have no way—”

“No!” Emberglow shouted, surprising both of them.  “Don’t lie to me, Steadfast!”

Steadfast went silent, eyeing Emberglow appraisingly.

“You did a bit more talking with that heretic than you implied, didn’t you?” he finally sighed softly.  She stared at him, and suddenly all of her feelings of hurt and betrayal drowned out her fear.  “Very well, Emberglow.  Ask the real questions you want to know.”

“Is my brother alive!?” she asked again, pleadingly. Steadfast closed his eyes and shook his head.

“No.  I’m sorry, Emberglow,” he sighed.  “Ponies require magic to survive.  It is a part of us, an essential piece of our souls.  If a pony loses the source of that magic, they die.  For pegasi, that’s your wings.  For unicorns…” he trailed off sadly.  “An adult pony can keep going, sometimes for months, on strength of will alone.  Foals pass even quicker.”

“How long?” Emberglow rasped hoarsely.

“Two days.  Maybe three,” he replied.  Emberglow shuddered, slumping down onto her rump on the rug.  She still remembered her brother’s face; maybe a new vision would be added to her nightmares tonight.  “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

“Why would you lie?” Emberglow demanded.  “You lied to me.  You lied to everypony!”

“I had to.” Steadfast’s voice was infuriatingly calm. “We have to.”

“That doesn’t make any sense! You have to lie about killing unicorns?” She stood from the rug, pacing around the tent. “That’s ridiculous!”

“It might sound ridiculous, but did you ever stop to consider why, Emberglow?  Why we need to keep that secret?” Steadfast asked, and Emberglow’s jaw snapped shut.  “What does it change, if unicorns die once their horns are removed?  Does it change the truth?  That unicorns are dangerous, a blight on society, the source of suffering and misery?”

“But is that a lie too?” Emberglow shot back.  “If unicorns are dangerous, why were there unicorns among the Saints?”  

Steadfast looked at her with a faint air of surprise, pausing only a second before speaking. “They were Saints in spite of their unicorn nature. Nothing changes the fact that it was the unicorns who destroyed their society.” He didn’t seem shocked at all.  

“You knew!” she accused, feeling her heart sink.  “You already knew!”

“Of course we did, Emberglow,” Steadfast said.  “The Knights Mystic have known from the beginning that Rarity was a unicorn, and Twilight Sparkle started out as one.”

“How can you say that so calmly?!” Emberglow nearly shrieked. 

“Does it really change anything?”

“Of course it does! Everything—” she choked up, swallowing a lump in her throat, before continuing hoarsely. “Everything I was taught, everything I believe, is based on a lie!”

“Oh, Emberglow.” Steadfast gazed sympathetically at her for a moment, before rising to his hooves to stand beside her. He laid a hoof over her withers, and she found herself instinctively leaning into it, the gesture a comforting one from her long-time friend. There was a short pause of silence as he guided her back to sit down, her nervous fear and sudden shock melding together in her stomach and making her hooves shake.

“The Book of the Saints, indeed, even our whole faith, isn’t based on whether or not the real Rarity and Twilight Sparkle were unicorns.” Steadfast’s voice took on a familiar lecturing tone.  “It’s based on the betterment of all pony kind.  Those other things are secondary to the real core of our faith; the five exalted tenets. The Tenets are the core of what we believe.  Everything else is just details.”  

He pointed a hoof at a book on his desk; a worn copy of the Book of the Saints.  “We were created by the Diarchs, to learn, grow, and be reborn anew.  Unicorns seek to subvert the true order to all of our peril.  Only by living the will of the Saints can we hope for a better rebirth.”  His voice was thick with emotion.  “Emberglow, nothing changes those truths.  Not Twilight Sparkle’s horn, not changes that had to be made to the Saint’s stories; changes that were made for ponies’ own good!”

“But it’s not true, is it?” Emberglow mumbled.  “The stories… the Book…”

“We can’t know for sure, of course. But probably not,” Steadfast admitted, “not fully, at least.”

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered, shivering. “Our whole society, everything that I’ve done — that we’ve done — what is it all worth, if it’s based on something that’s not true?”

“Not everything that is true is useful, Emberglow. Sometimes,” Steadfast murmured sadly, a faraway look in his eyes, “we must lie in order to spread the truth.  If the Tenets are true, then what does it matter if the stories that teach them aren’t?  Like I said, it’s just… details. Little convenient omissions that make the truth easier to swallow — much like it is common knowledge that the events in the Book are not literal fact.”

“But this is different!” Emberglow protested, though she couldn’t quite vocalize why. It was just so big.

“Is it? To me, it’s the same thing, albeit on a larger scale. This is what I meant, years ago, when I told you that Knights are weighed down by hard burdens.  The Mystics most of all, because we have to know the deception, and understand why it is necessary.

“This is why!” he called fervently, when Emberglow tried to speak again.  “This is why I thought you would be a good fit for the Mystics, Emberglow.  You have a sharp mind, and an inquisitive nature.  You should have been exposed to these truths in the right way, gradually, over time.  I would have guided you into it rather than the abrupt, uncontrolled introduction this heretic gave you.”

“Y-you thought… I’d be okay with this?” Emberglow gaped.

“If you were prepared for it properly, yes,” Steadfast said.  “But there’s no point speaking in hypotheticals, I suppose. What’s done is done — the only question is, what will you do now? You are at an important crossroads — one is the path to greatness, to living the true ideals of the Saints. And the other,” he said solemnly, looking at her through eyes of genuine worry, “is heresy.””

“I’m not too sure, sir,” she said cautiously, drawing back from him a little.

“Well, young lady, I am sure,” he said, and she jerked her head up to look at him, terrified for a moment that he was about to arrest her. His face held no anger, though — instead, strangely, he looked… hopeful? “You could help me. We can fix this together.”

“Fix this?” Emberglow asked confusedly.  “What can you possibly mean by that?”

“I need you, Emberglow,” Steadfast pleaded.  “I need ponies I can trust.  I’m sure you’ve seen what I’ve seen.  The Knighthood is not what it should be.  We are stagnant, failing, and we’re just treading water.  We make no progress in endless border wars, and the heretics are gaining in numbers.  The Zebrican battles are a waste of time, money, and pony lives.  

“All the while, we struggle to maintain our own morality. Perhaps you do not realise the full extent of this, Emberglow — few city ponies do, I think — but the ideals of the Book are not universally enforced, even among the Knights.” Steadfast’s voice had a touch of fire in it as he spoke. “Hypocrites rule the Knight Orders, and allow corruption and laziness into their ranks. It is the common ponies who suffer, ponies in our hinterlands outside the capital who waste away from disease and crime and starvation — all while supposedly just leaders play at petty politics and throw resources into hopeless wars.”

Emberglow blinked. 

Everything he was saying was true, she realized, even if she hadn’t consciously acknowledged it before.  In Port Luminescence, the Knights had been forced to look the other way at the corrupt and illegal behavior of an out-of-control governor.  Even within the capital itself, Lofty Tale had been cast out of his order, not for violating their oath of celibacy, but for wishing to raise his son.  Even before that, he’d suggested that many Vigilants didn’t take that oath very seriously anyways.  

All around her were Knights more interested in themselves, or their political games, than in their oaths and pledges to help others. Over time, she’d dismissed this as just a few ponies being flawed or imperfect.  But from what Steadfast was suggesting, it sounded like the problem was systemic.

“I can see it in your eyes,” Steadfast continued.  “You’ve seen it too.  But I have a plan, Emberglow.  I’m going to fix it all.  I just need ponies like you.  Ponies I can trust.”

“What…”

“Why did you come to me, Emberglow?” Steadfast interrupted again.  Emberglow blinked.  The subject change was rather abrupt.  “When a heretic fed you a bunch of information you were not prepared for, why did you seek me out specifically?”

“I… you’ve always been my friend, sir.  I thought…”

“You thought that maybe I’d believe you if you said you’d found out something disturbing,” Steadfast reasoned.  “I do, Emberglow. I trust you, more than I trust most ponies even within the Knighthood. You have always been refreshingly honest. A surprisingly rare quality, actually.” He paused, as if unsure of what he was about to say.

“Sir, I… where are you going with this?” Emberglow studied her mentor carefully. He actually seemed to be slightly… nervous? His movements were slight and controlled, but she thought she could see the tiny twitches of his hooves as he spoke. It was an odd sight, for one who had always felt so strong and, well, steadfast.

“I need to know, Emberglow,” he said, finally. “Are you on my side?”

“Your… side?”

“You might not realize this, Emberglow, but the Diarchy pontiff is a figurehead.  She has little real power without the Knights.  And the first among equals within the Knights are the Mystics.  The Grand Master of the Knights Mystic is the true master of the Diarchy, Emberglow.  And the only way I can make sure we get back on track, the only way I can take the reins and steer the Diarchy back to the will of the Saints, is if I am Grand Master.  Once I am in charge, you can help me make the Diarchy what it always should have been.”

“You’re talking treason.  Betrayal,” Emberglow breathed.

“You’re going to judge me?” Steadfast asked neutrally, giving her a somewhat forced smile.  “You’re AWOL and you practically admitted to heresy, Emberglow.  Any one of my brothers or sisters would have you in irons, in a cell, in a heartbeat.”

“That’s why I came to you,” Emberglow admitted.  “I thought you would listen.”

“I am listening, Emberglow.” He looked straight into her eyes.  “I’ve heard every word you said.  Have you heard mine?”  She stared at him, silenced by the intensity of his gaze.  “I need to know where you stand, Emberglow. Are you on my side?”

“I — I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head and looking away. “How can I fight for a lie?”

“Because it’s what’s best for the Diarchy, and the ponies who belong to it. Because somepony needs to take charge of the Knighthood and bring it back to what the Saints intended.  Because even if some of the details don’t match up, the core is intact.”

“I… I can’t,” Emberglow stammered.

“You can, Emberglow.  You can come back from this.  Just cast aside the extraneous details and focus on what really matters, as I did when I first encountered the ‘truths’ you find so concerning.”  He took a deep breath, and Emberglow could see the passion and desperation burning in his eyes.  “Please consider it, Emberglow.  A strong Diarchy, with me at the reins, will be a peaceful Diarchy.  Once the Knights are back on track, we can finally effectively cleanse this land of heretics and beast races.  We can end the threats of the dragons and griffons.  We can bring peace.”

“You sound mad,” Emberglow said.  

“Would you join the heretics, instead?” he challenged, with more desperation in his voice than she thought she had ever heard. “Please, Emberglow. Don’t lose yourself. Heresy has claimed more than enough good ponies already.” There was an odd note of grief in his voice.

Emberglow stared into space, lost in thought. It would be the height of foolishness to tell Steadfast she was a heretic, of course — he was still a Mystic, no matter how friendly he might seem. His words, though, resonated with the worries that had been running through her mind the past few weeks.

Sure, she had already admitted to being a heretic to Lofty Tale, but there was a difference between saying that to her close friend, and hearing it being said by Steadfast. Was she really, truly, going to commit herself to heresy? The thought seemed preposterous, now that she was confronting it in front of her mentor. 

Don’t lose yourself, he had said. Wouldn’t it be equally bad, though, to go against everything she had learned, to serve a cause she felt was unjust?

But there was a certain appeal, a sickening, twisted sort of logic to it all.  What would the Diarchy look like at peace?  It was an intoxicating idea.   

“What have you always wanted, Emberglow?  I can make sure it happens, if you help me accomplish my vision.  A Diarchy at my command could mean big things for a pony like you.”

“What do you mean?” Emberglow felt a sort of building pressure in her mind, like something big was coming.  Something inexplicably important.

“As my ally and agent, there would be nopony who could judge you.  Nopony to tell you who to love.  Emberglow, you could be with anypony you wished.”  Steadfast’s voice dripped with distaste, and his eyes looked desperate.  “Your romantic impulses, your sexual… preferences, could be… satisfied.” 

The pressure in her mind, the building sensation, suddenly roared to life.  She could choose this.  She could have what she’d always denied herself.  Connection.  Romance. Her heart pounded in her head, the dull thumps drowning out all other sounds for a moment.  There was a very real ache in her chest, a longing that marched to the beating of her heart.

It wasn’t the only part of his offer that drew her, even.  Emberglow had seen what he was talking about.  The corruption.  The dysfunction.  It was hard to doubt Steadfast’s earnestness; she could read his conviction in his eyes.  If she said yes, she could help bring peace to the Diarchy.  Real change.

It would only cost her whole soul.  What was one mare’s integrity worth, anyways?

“No,” she whispered, her heart wrenching at the word. 

For a brief moment, one of the small crates in the corner of the tent rattled, a bit of orange light flashing between the slats of wood.  Steadfast looked at it, then back at Emberglow, his eyes piercing and intent.  

“What was—”

“You did find something in Manehattan,” Steadfast said sharply, rounding on her as he got in her face.  His gaze jerked back to the small wooden crate, now still, before training squarely on Emberglow’s face.  “You found an Element, didn't you? Tell me!”

“E-element?  I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Emberglow tried to back away, but Steadfast seized her shoulder with one hoof, holding her in place. There was an almost manic sort of hunger in his eyes. 

“I know you’re lying, Emberglow.  You found an Element of Harmony in Manehattan!” Steadfast shouted harshly.  “And this one here,” he pointed at the crate, “just reacted.  Tell me!  Which one?”

“You have an…”

“Don’t change the subject!  Where is it now?” Steadfast hissed.  Emberglow blinked at him.  He wasn’t making any sense.  “Did you give it to Heartwing?”

“I didn’t find any Element,” Emberglow protested.  Steadfast shook his head violently.

“So be it.  You’ve made your choice, then,” Steadfast muttered angrily.   She didn’t know what came next, but it was past time to escape.  She began to back away slowly, towards the tent flap.  “No, Emberglow.  You don’t get to leave.”  Steadfast’s voice was low.  “Not until you tell me everything about the Element you found.”

Emberglow couldn’t hesitate any longer.  She coiled her legs and lunged backwards, spinning towards the tent flap as her wings flared out.  Steadfast began shouting just as she cleared the canvas and was about to leap into the air.

“To arms, to arms!  Heretic in the camp!” he cried out.  “Arrest the pegasus heretic!  Take her alive!”  Emberglow spread her wings and tried to leap, but a dark form slammed into her from the side, tumbling her sideways.  She sprawled out on the ground of the camp, and ponies rushed in around her.  One soldier tackled her hindquarters, trying to pin her down while she struggled to spread her wings and take to the air.

Something dropped over her, something thick and heavy and knotted.  It was a net, and the strands tangled in her wings as she tried to struggle free.  More ponies piled on, seizing limbs or just smothering her with their weight.

“Hold, heretic,” a voice she didn’t recognize said.  She glanced through the net’s holes and saw the Adamant pegasus she’d spotted earlier, hovering in the air above her.  His spear was at the ready, pointed threateningly towards her eyes.  “Don’t make me hurt you.”

Emberglow paused for a single heartbeat, and it was too much.  More nets dropped into place, tangling her limbs hopelessly.  She struggled weakly, barely able to wiggle as the ponies on top of her forced manacles onto her flailing hooves.

“Do not harm her any more than necessary,” she heard Steadfast say behind her.  She struggled to turn, to face him, to open her mouth, to say… something. 

She took a breath to speak, and the black bag slipped over her head, blacking out her vision.  The blow to the back of her head came a second later.


*   *   *   *   *


The first sensation was pain.  Emberglow’s head hurt most of all.  Next came her hooves; something was wrapped tight around all four hooves.  Her wings were sore, too; something was keeping them pinned tight to her barrel.  She tried to open her eyes, but they were bound shut by a blindfold.  She tried to call out, but her muzzle was similarly bound.  All she could make was a series of muffled grunts.  A cold breeze of air on her fur told her she had been stripped of her clothing.

She wanted to weep.  She could feel the tears staining the dark cloth wrapped around her eyes.  Emberglow had known better.  She’d known what was going to happen.  But she’d had to try.  And now…

Now she got to pay for it.

She tried not to think about her failure.  Of Steadfast’s betrayal, and the aching pit in her chest.  But alone, behind the blindfold, shivering at the cold and aching all over, she couldn’t think of anything else.

“You’re awake.  Good.  We can get started,” somepony said.  Emberglow froze.  The voice was certainly familiar, and it carried a tone of zealous glee.  “I was right.  I was right the whole time.”  The satisfied, sadistic joy in Brightblade’s voice was terrifying.  Emberglow tried to shake her head, and was rewarded with the pounding pain of a headache.  Her trained medical mind provided the possible diagnosis of head injury combined with a possible minor concussion.

“I was right,” Brightblade repeated.  “And now you will be scourged for your sins, heretic.  I will enjoy this.”

Something hard struck her against her back, right between her wings.  Emberglow let out a hiss of pain, grunting in protest.

“When we train as fresh Mystics,” Brightblade said conversationally, “we are taught that there are all sorts of ways to prime a suspect, prepare her for questioning.”  There was a yank at her head, and suddenly the blindfold came off.  Emberglow winced at the sudden light, which sent stabbing pain into her already injured head.  When she was able to see, she saw Brightblade’s eager eyes in front of her.  There was a hunger there, a sick sort of sadistic joy.  In one hoof he held a long wooden rod.

The two of them were in a tent, lit only by a single lantern hanging from the central tent pole that held up the canvas walls.  A chained collar was locked around her neck and attached to a stake, driven deep into the ground.  Four more stakes were attached to chains on her hooves.

“Steadfast prefers blinding the subjects of his interrogations.  I feel differently.  I think it makes more of an impact when the pony can see the pain coming.”  He dragged the tip of his weapon down her cheek in a caress, before winding back and striking her hard against her left shoulder.  Emberglow tried not to react this time.

“Good, hold it in.  Pretend to be strong,” Brightblade encouraged.  “It makes it more satisfying when the prisoner breaks.  The satisfaction of a job well done is a blessing of the Saints.”  Emberglow tried to say something, to protest, but the bindings wrapped around her muzzle prevented speech.

“Maybe you’re wondering why I’m not bothering to interrogate you.  It’s simple; my job is really just to excoriate you.  You should thank me; this is the first step towards your repentance, and your reconciliation with the Saints.”  As he spoke, he moved behind her.  Emberglow tried to track him with her eyes, but the collar prevented the movement.  She tried to stand, and received a vicious strike on her right flank.  The surprise of it caused her to jump in pain and surprise, and another quick strike slapped against her left.  “Pain is cleansing, heretic Emberglow.  It purges our guilt and pays for our crimes against the Saints.  Accept your guilt, accept your pain.”

Guilt?  Emberglow could accept that, even if it wasn’t exactly what Brightblade had in mind.  The pleading cries of ‘Mother?’ echoed in her dreams every night.  And pain?  Steadfast had always been a rock.  And having that foundation torn out from under her hurt worse than the club.

He struck hard against her barrel, just behind her wings.  His next strikes struck the base of her wings themselves, and agony like she had never felt shot through her torso.  She couldn’t help herself; she shook and whimpered in pain.

“That got your attention,” Brightblade said casually, and a second strike landed in the same spot, then a third.  Tears leaked down her cheeks.  “You know, you’re not the first pegasus I’ve scourged, but you are the first Knight.  The last pegasus heretic I beat passed out at a single strike to his wings.  The pain was just too much for him, I suppose.  It’s quite interesting to see the difference in pain tolerance.  On your hooves.”

Emberglow almost didn’t recognize the command he gave through her pain.  He jabbed the weapon against the aching spot at the base of her wings and repeated the command.

“On your hooves, heretic!”  He prodded harder, sending another jolt of pain down her spine.  Shakily, Emberglow tried to stand on shaky hooves, if only to stop Brightblade from hitting her at the base of her wings again.   It was a struggle, especially with the collar around her neck.  Brightblade’s impatient tapping against her back and wings with his tool didn’t help, either.  Quivering and grunting with effort, Emberglow made it into a standing crouch, only for Brightblade to swing the rod in a wide circle, slamming hard into her underbelly.  Emberglow slumped back onto the floor of the tent, coughing blood.  The taste of iron filled her mouth, and she choked, unable to fully open her mouth to spit out the blood.

“I’m going to take you apart, Emberglow.  I’m going to repay you for every single death in Manehattan.  And when you’re begging for death, I’m going to heal you so I can do it all over again.”  He lifted her chin with his weapon, and she sputtered for breath while blood ran down her throat.  “And every time I do, you’ll remember that you deserve this.  From the depth of your soul, you earned every—“ he slapped her with one hoof, spinning her head to the side, “—last—“ he slapped her again, the other way.  “—blow.” He shoved her head into the dirt, grinding it down with his hoof until Emberglow was whimpering and gasping with pain.  Brightblade leaned down, until his mouth was right next to her ear. 

“And when I wrap the noose around your neck, you’ll thank me.”
> Chapter 27
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 27


From the journal of Heartwing, dated 825 AF

Fluttershy,

            	I don’t know what to do.

            	I never meant to lead ponies.  I certainly never meant to be in charge of these so-called ‘Knights’ forever.  I thought I could just show them the truth, and then let things play out on their own.  Somepony else would take charge, and I could go find the next bonfire to start, the next mess to cause. 

            	It didn’t work out that way.  They made me the Grand Master.

            	The Knights Angelic were not an island in the ocean.  They had family, friends, lovers, and companions.  Suddenly I had hundreds of lives I was responsible for.  I had to find them a place to live, to put down roots, to grow food, to thrive.  I had to build a society, and because I’d just taken away their faith, I had to do it from the ground up.

            	I’m not made for building things, Fluttershy.  I’m sure I’ve made a complete mess of it all.  If they had any brains they’d gallop away from me as fast as they could.

            	If I had any brains, I’d do the same.

            	I guess I’m just an idiot, then.  Huh.  I’m suddenly starting to feel a great deal of empathy for Rainbow Dash.

Separate entry, dated 1107 AF

Fluttershy,

            	You would be very impressed with Termie.  He’s come up with a list of ‘rules’ for new ponies, to help them transition to life here at Angel’s Rest.  I know I am; every day I think about how much I don’t deserve him.

            	I can almost hear your stern lecturing tone.  Telling me to get over you, let go, and give all of myself to that wonderful stallion.

            	Okay, so the rules.  I’m going to write them out here, but I think I’ll also make a framed copy for our guest room. 

            	Number One:  Take every moment one step at a time.  Focus on the now, first; the future will sort itself out.

            	Number Two: Figure out who you want to be, right now.  Don’t worry about who you were before.

            	Number Three: Just like you deserve a fresh start, so does everypony else.  Everypony gets a clean slate.

            	Number Four: Once you know who you want to be right now, imagine who you want to be in the future.  Set small, measurable, attainable goals.  Have a big picture, but don’t lose yourself in it (remember rule Number One).

            	Number Five: Forgive yourself.  Love yourself.  Respect yourself.  Be patient with yourself.

            	I don’t deserve him.  I never even deserved you.

 1112 AF, Angel’s Rest

            	“I’m thinking, ‘Rebirth’!” Rarity announced dramatically with a wide sweep of her hoof.  The gesture took in the entire building. 

            	“You don’t think that’s a little obvious?  Maybe too on the nose?” asked the creature standing next to her.  The minotaur female practically towered over Rarity, but Rarity found her new acquaintance’s presence to be comforting, rather than intimidating. 

            	“Perhaps, darling, but subtlety isn’t exactly what I’m going for here,” Rarity said, turning back to wink at Miss Klieo.

            	Rarity had been rather surprised to learn just how well thought-out Heartwing’s city of rebels was.  Only a portion of the citizens of Angel’s Rest were actually dedicated to the cause of fighting the Diarchy. Most of the ponies and creatures here actually were civilians, supporting the war effort however they could while they tried to live their lives, free and happy, away from the horrors she had heard about the theocracy.  It even had a functioning economy and banking system, with Heartwing putting up business loans to help new ponies find their hooves out of his own personal fortune (which Rarity had been assured was large enough to help ponies like her begin their lives anew).

            	Not only had Heartwing provided a generous loan for Rarity to begin her new boutique, he had also introduced her to a seamstress looking to own her own business.  One look at Miss Klieo’s portfolio of design ideas had convinced Rarity; the young minotaur had both talent and potential, needing only a senior partner to mold that talent into something spectacular.  Klieo, in turn, knew more about the fashion needs of non-pony creatures than Rarity did.  Together, Rarity thought they could be very productive.

            	The first thing they needed, though, was a physical location.

            	“It looks… boring,” Klieo commented.  Rarity smirked.  Indeed, the single-story storefront didn’t stand out much in the row of shops and businesses that filled the street.  Its stucco walls were beige, and the roof was constructed of uninspired brown tile.  There was a single large display window that looked into the empty store beyond.

            	“Not boring, Klieo.  It’s a blank canvas, waiting for a splash of color and life,” Rarity said, her hooves tapping with excitement as ideas and images danced in her mind.  “Rebirth, like a phoenix rising from the ashes!  Bright walls, done up in a flame motif!  A logo beside the door, maybe something like the bird itself rising from the flames.  Notebook!” she cried out desperately, glancing at her new partner, who produced a blank notebook and pencil with a bemused expression at Rarity’s abruptness.  With a look of intense concentration, she began to frantically sketch her ideas onto the pages.

            	“Did you maybe want to see inside?” Klieo asked, smiling with amusement at Rarity’s antics.

            	“One moment, darling.  Inspiration waits for nopony.”  With the pencil gripped firmly in the light blue aura of her magic, she hurriedly sketched a few ideas for the logo before closing up the book and passing it back to Klieo’s waiting hand.  “Now.  Let’s take a look inside.”

            	“It’s just empty space,” Klieo stated.

            	“Perhaps,” Rarity mused.  “Or maybe it’s an empty canvas, just like the outside.”  She levitated the keys Heartwing had given her out of her saddlebags and unlocked the front door.  “After you, dear.”  Klieo looked at Rarity, then at the door, and with only a brief moment of hesitation, turned the handle and opened the door into their new premises.

            	For some reason, Rarity had expected more dust.  The interior, while small, was quite clean, the floors polished wood.  Classic, perhaps, but she wanted something more modern.  Only, she realised slightly amusedly, she didn’t exactly know what that meant now.

            	“I think…” Klieo began tentatively.  “I think I’m seeing what you mean.  Blank canvas.  Um, there’s not a lot of space, but what about a raised platform?  Like, a miniature stage, right here?  We could use it as a display, or… or even…” She hesitated, as if suddenly unsure of herself.

            	“Hold fashion shows?” Rarity finished slyly, and Klieo nodded.  “Don’t worry, Miss Klieo.  I am no stranger to those.  I love the idea.  Let’s draw out some layouts.”

            	Between the two of them, Klieo and Rarity filled the notebook full of ideas.  While inexperienced as an actual designer, Klieo had worked as a seamstress, and had a mind full of inventive designs.  In the end, Rarity felt the hours they’d spent flitting about the empty shop, excitedly chatting about ideas, was time well spent.

            	“You’ve done this before,” Klieo commented as she and Rarity began listing the supplies they would need before a grand opening.

            	“Well of course, darling.  This will be my fourth…” Rarity began, then gulped, trailing off.  Her vision was suddenly quite blurry.  “My fourth… I…”  She took a deep breath, dabbing daintily at her sudden tears.  “I’m quite sorry, Klieo.  I seem to be out of sorts.”

            	“You’re remembering what you lost?” Klieo asked softly, her voice full of understanding.  “Do you want to tell me about it?”  She laid one of her forehooves, or hands, as Rarity corrected mentally, on Rarity’s shoulder comfortingly.

            	“My first was Carousel Boutique, in Ponyville.  I lived above my shop, in a building literally shaped like the most delightful carousel.  Every inch of the space was mine; fabulous, chic, and utterly unique,” Rarity began.  The sense of loss closed in around her chest as she barely held back sobs.  It was gone.  The businesses she’d poured her time, her passion, and her genius into was gone.  “I’m sorry, dear.  It must seem terribly uninteresting to you…”

            	Klieo interrupted with a shake of her head.  “No,” she said.  “If you need to cry about this, don’t let me stop you.  I get it.”

            	“I just hate this,” Rarity growled with a stomp of her hoof as she dashed her tears away with a hoof.  “It’s unseemly to just begin weeping at every little drop of a hat.”

            	“Not really,” Klieo said comfortingly.  “You’ve experienced a major loss.  You’re still mourning.  Nobody here will judge you for shedding some tears over it.”

            	“You sound rather experienced in the subject,” Rarity said softly.  There was real empathy in Klieo’s voice, and not just platitudes.

            	“My parents adopted my big sister a little after I was born.  She’s had to struggle with loss and grief herself.”  Klieo paused thoughtfully for a few moments.  “You know what?  You might like her.  It’s dinner time anyways.  C’mon, let’s go eat at Colibri’s place.  It’s nearby.”

            	“Your sister won’t mind unexpected dinner guests?” Rarity asked carefully.

            	“I’d hope not,” Klieo laughed.  “Her place is a pub.”  They closed up the empty shop and walked down the street side by side.

            	By now, Rarity had grown used to the inquisitive stares she received from the residents of Angel’s Rest.  After her first day, Heartwing had made an announcement about her presence, but it was clear that many ponies were still deeply curious.  Even though she was not a religious figure for these ponies, she was still a legend, a myth, a living connection to ancient history.  Rarity did her best to smile and wave at everypony, though.  The sooner they saw her as just a normal unicorn, the sooner the awkward staring would stop.  Hopefully to be replaced with the awed staring of her adoring customers, of course.

            	Klieo led the way to the pub, a charming building with a hanging wooden placard over the door that reminded Rarity of some of the businesses in Ponyville.  The pub’s name, “The Cocoon”, was proudly engraved into the sign, over a bright picture of a butterfly breaking out of a cocoon.  Klieo pushed open the swinging door, and a bell over the door tinkled to announce their arrival.

            	“Welcome to The Cocoon, how can I…” a cheerful alto voice announced, cutting off as Klieo and Rarity slipped inside.  The speaker was a pegasus mare with emerald green fur and a silvery blue and violet mane.  “Oh, Klieo!  Come on in!  And who are…” she froze, and then gulped, and the mare’s welcoming smile became rather nervous.

            	“Please, don’t mind me, darling,” Rarity said with a disarming smile.  “I’m just a normal customer.”  The mare nodded nervously, and was trembling a little as she showed the two of them to an empty table.

            	“Rarity, this is Colibri, my big sister.  Colibri, this is Rarity,” Klieo announced, as if it were the most normal introduction in the world.  Rarity was grateful; she wanted a bit of normal right now.  “Colibri here owns the pub, and is the primary hostess.”

            	“It looks like a delightful place,” Rarity declared, looking around the room at the brightly colored, homey décor.  The walls were covered in colorful, abstract paintings in cool colors.  On some of the walls, floating shelves held dozens of framed pictures, mostly of ponies, though there were all sorts of other creatures as well.  The only odd decoration was a large knife, mounted on a plaque as if it were some sort of bizarre hunting trophy.

            	“R-Rarity.  Right.  Of course,” Colibri said nervously.  “Um, just like Sir Heartwing said.  U-um.  Klieo, why are you…”

            	“Heartwing introduced me to your absolutely delightful little sister,” Rarity said, coming to the flustered Colibri’s rescue.  “I’ve been…” she paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully with one hoof, “out of circulation for a while, and I need a talented and creative individual to help me start up a fashion boutique.  Klieo and I are going into business with each other.”

            	“B-business?  W-with Saint Rarity?  You?” Colibri stammered, though she sounded pleased through her shock.

            	“Oh please, drop the ‘Saint’ bit, will you?” Rarity said, with some asperity.  “That whole nonsense was done entirely without my permission or foreknowledge.”

            	The absurdity of Rarity’s words was just what Colibri needed.  The nervous pub owner let out a little giggle and visibly relaxed.

            	“Um, yeah.  Sorry.  Um, menus?”  Colibri blinked, then snatched a menu from the apron she wore.  “Right.  Menus.  Don’t worry, Miss Rarity,” she said, emphasizing the ‘miss’ with a wink as she placed the menus on the table.  “Klieo knows what’s good, and can answer any questions.  Anything to drink before I go?”

            	“Beer!” Klieo suggested cheerfully, earning herself a glare from her sister.

            	“You have two months to go, sister,” Colibri said warningly.

            	“Pony rules,” Klieo scoffed, and Colibri’s eyes narrowed.

            	“Pony pub, pony rules, little sister.  No beer until you’re twenty-one.  I’m bringing you some root beer.”  She turned to Rarity.  “And for you, M-miss Rarity?” She barely stammered this time.

            	“Water is just fine,” Rarity said.  Colibri shuffled off to get their drinks and give Rarity time to peruse the menu.

            	“What was that about?” Rarity asked.  Klieo didn’t seem upset at all by the exchange with her sister.

            	“Most minotaur families let their kids drink as young as sixteen.  But my sister’s pretty strict about creatures drinking too young.”  Klieo sounded proud.  “Doesn’t mean I can’t tease her about it.  It’s my job, after all.”

            	“So,” Rarity said, when Klieo went silent.  “When you said sister, I’m afraid to say I made some assumptions.”

            	“Really?” Klieo said, puzzled.  “Oh!  Right.  Because she’s a pegasus, and I’m a minotaur.”  Her expression became grave.  “I’m actually really lucky.  Both my parents are still alive, they’re happy, healthy, and they love me.  Most ponies and other creatures around here don’t get that.”  She sighed.  “My dad was friends with an Equestrian expatriate who moved here from Zebrica to join the cause.  Dad came with him, and he met Mom here.  Mom’s a blacksmith.  Shortly after he came here, they had me.  When I was about six, Colibri showed up.  She was still a foal, I guess.  Only twelve years old.  Her birth parents had sent her to some sort of a camp that was made to ‘fix’ ponies like her.  Something run by the Diarchy.  They were torturing her, and she escaped.”

            	“Fix?” Rarity asked, dreading the answer.  “Ponies like her?”

            	“Heartwing says in your time, it was called transgender.  Now, the Diarchy ponies just call it sin.”  Klieo’s voice dripped with disgust.  “Colibri’s birth dad was abusive.  He beat her, demanding she ‘act like a stallion’, and bullshit like that.  The camp she was in was even worse.  She barely escaped.”  Klieo shuddered.  “You should have seen her when she dragged herself into town.  She’d been beaten and whipped.  My dad took one look at her and offered to be her new dad.  My mom…” Klieo laughed.  “When dad brought Colibri home, we had to stop her from haring off to murder Colibri’s birth parents.  She’s been my sister ever since.”

            	“She seems to be doing well now,” Rarity said.  She picked up the menu, glancing over the offered options.  The fried tofu salad looked quite tempting.

            	“She’s doing better,” Klieo said slowly.  “Her pub’s really successful, and she just got engaged a few weeks ago.”

            	“Good for her,” Rarity said.  A few moments later, Colibri wandered back with their drinks, setting Klieo’s root beer in front of her with a sly look and a waggling of eyebrows.

            	“Decided what to order?” she asked the two of them.  She sounded a bit more confident than before.

            	“I would just love to try the fried tofu salad, please,” Rarity said politely.

            	“You know my order, sis,” Klieo said. 

            	“One fried tofu salad, one hot pepper stir fry,” Colibri said.  “I’m on it, ladies.  Um…” she paused, glancing nervously back and forth between Rarity and Klieo.  “When I’ve brought your food back, can I join you for a bit, Miss Rarity?  I, uh…”

            	“I’d love to get to know you better, darling,” Rarity said with her most winning smile.  “Your sister says you’ve recently become engaged.  I would absolutely love to learn as much as I can about modern wedding dresses.  Maybe even help design yours?”

            	Colibri’s jaw dropped and she froze, staring blankly at Rarity.  Seconds passed, and Rarity began wondering if she should say something, until she heard Klieo giggling.

            	“Please, Miss Rarity, could you not break my sister until she’s gotten our food?” she asked through her laughter.  After a moment, Colibri shook her head and shot her sister a dark look.

            	“Um, yeah, Miss Rarity, that sounds great,” Colibri managed.  “I’ll… er… I’ll be back with your orders.”  She scampered away.

            	“Your sister is a bit nervous around me,” Rarity noted.  Klieo nodded.

            	“Faith is a weird thing.  Some ponies have a hard time letting go of the stories and ideas that they were taught their entire lives.  Some ponies even say that there’s good to be found in the Book of the Saints, even if they have to sift through the bad stuff.  Colibri always loved the stories, even if the other stuff hurt.  You were always her favorite.”

            	“I see,” Rarity muttered.

            	“I’m sorry, Miss Rarity.  I wasn’t raised in the faith, so I’m not really familiar with the stories.  But most of the ponies here…” Klieo motioned with her hand.  Most of the other ponies in the pub were paying attention to their food, but Rarity did catch a few sidelong glances and mumbled conversations as eyes shifted her way.  “It might be a while before you can walk down the street without turning heads or making gossip.”

            	“Well, I did always enjoy being the center of attention,” Rarity said with a small smile, fluffing her mane with one hoof.  It was true; she didn’t actually mind the attention too much, she just wished it was for something she had actually done.  Well, give it time.

            	The conversation drifted from these serious matters to their plans and designs for the new boutique.  It was refreshing to have a plan for the immediate future, even if Rarity knew at some point it would be interrupted for a more important mission.  It added a sense of normalcy to her day while she desperately tried to make sense of her new reality.

            	“Here you go, ladies,” Colibri said, carefully laying two plates in front of each of them.  She was carrying a third, piled with hayfries, cheese, and gravy.  She hesitated a bit before setting it down.

            	“Well, go on,” Rarity encouraged.  “Join us, Colibri.”

            	“It is time for my dinner break,” she admitted, and slid her plate down on the table next to her sister, joining the others at the table.  “So…”

            	“Please, darling.  It’s clear you’re rather nervous around me, but I assure you, I am a normal pony just like everypony else.  And I meant what I said about designing and creating a stunning wedding dress for you.”

            	“You really… but I…”

            	“Think nothing of it, please,” Rarity insisted.  “Now, what would it take for you to be more comfortable around me?”  If she could get this one pony to stop stammering and acting so nervous around her, maybe Rarity could find a way to do it for all ponies.

            	“Um, can I ask you some questions?  About how things used to be?” Colibri whispered.  Rarity smiled and nodded.  “Okay.  Um.  Is it true that one time you fought off an entire army of dog monsters, all by yourself?”

            	“Oh dear,” Rarity said, laughing.  “Oh, please, tell me how I fought them.  I’m very curious to hear about it.”

            	“W-well, in the Book of the Saints it says they were tormenting and raiding ponies, so you chased them into their caves.  When they tried to swarm you, you found a narrow chokepoint and forced them to face you one or two at a time, with sword and shield, until they were all defeated or surrendered…” Colibri had to trail off, because Rarity was shaking with laughter.

            	“Goodness, is that so?” Rarity giggled.  “Well, darling, let me tell you the real story.  It is much more entertaining than that by far.  It began with me and my dear friend Spike the dragon helping me find some gems.  You see, Sapphire Shores, the premier musician of my day, was in need of several gem-studded costume changes for an upcoming concert series, and had commissioned yours truly to make them.  Unfortunately, while we were searching…”

            	 As she told the story of her encounter with the Diamond Dogs, others in the pub began to listen, gathering around her table. Rarity didn’t mind in the slightest.  Indeed, she had quite the attentive audience as she regaled them all with the story.  By the time she reached the end, where an entire tribe of Diamond Dogs was begging her to take all of their gems just to leave them alone, the entire pub was rolling with laughter.  Rarity felt quite gratified at the results.

            	“That can’t possibly all be true, can it?” Colibri asked between giggles. 

            	“Swear to Celestia,” Rarity said, crossing her heart with one hoof.  “It all happened exactly like I said.”

            	“There’s no way that’s all true,” Klieo laughed incredulously.  Rarity glared at her in mock indignation.

            	“Are you impugning my honor?  Calling me a liar?” she protested, sniggering behind one hoof as she said it.  “Why, I have half a mind to…”

            	“Miss Rarity?” a loud voice interrupted, and all eyes shifted to the huge figure standing in the pub’s doorway.  An earth pony, perhaps the largest stallion Rarity had ever seen, was ducked under a door frame that was far too low for him.  He wore the yellow armor of the Knights Discordant, a uniform that Rarity learned commanded a great deal of respect around Angel’s Rest.  A hush came over the pub.  “Sir Heartwing has something he needs to discuss with you.” His voice was concerned.  “He said it’s urgent.”

            	“Of course, Sir…”Rarity paused.

            	“Who, me?  I’m Slate, ma’am.”

            	“Very well, Sir Slate.  Let me settle my bill here, and we’ll be on our way.”

            	“Very good, ma’am,” Slate said.  He trotted over to their table, and Colibri stood.  Even though the Knight towered over her, he leaned down and the two ponies gently nuzzled each other.

            	“Oh!” Rarity cooed at the obvious love implicit in the gesture.  “So Sir Slate is your fiancé!”  She reached for her bit bag and the stack of money Terminus Flash had given her for everyday expenses.

            	“Yes, he…” Colibri paused, noticing Rarity reaching for her bits.  “Nope.  You don’t need to—”

            	“Oh I insist, darling.  After the delightful meal and the wonderful time, you deserve it,” Rarity interrupted, placing the payment on the table.  “Now I must bid you and your lovely sister goodbye.  Do come by as soon as our boutique is open and we shall start speaking about your dress, hmm?”  She waved to the two sisters, and followed the gigantic Knight out of the pub.

            	“This fiancé of yours is quite the delight,” Rarity commented as she and the slate-grey earth pony Knight trotted down the street.

            	“Yeah,” Sir Slate said dreamily, a blush suffusing his face.  “She’s great.  Whatever story you were telling, thank you.  You were always her favorite Saint, and even now she loves the stories.  Even if they are fake, they’re inspiring, you know?”

            	“Klieo told me a bit about her history,” Rarity said softly, and Slate scowled.

            	“I’d buck her sperm-donor dad to the moon, if I could,” he growled, and Rarity shuddered.  A single look at Slate’s giant, muscular legs convinced Rarity that he might be able to do it.  “That’s why I became a Knight, you know?  Cuz that way I can keep innocent ponies like Colibri safe from anypony that’s gonna hurt her.”

            	“I can see why anypony would feel safe, standing next to you,” Rarity commented, and Slate blushed.  “So.  Do you have any idea what Heartwing needs?”

            	“Nah,” Slate replied.  “Just sent us out to collect you, and the rest of the council.”

            	“Council?”

            	“The ponies in charge.  Sir Heartwing, Sir Cobalt, Ninelives, Top Brass, and Mayor Cactus Flower,” he answered.  Rarity gave him a curious look.  “Everypony assumes that the big guy, Heartwing, is in charge of everything.  He doesn’t like that, so he tries to spread power out as much as he can.”  Slate laughed.  “He thinks we don’t realize he’s doing it.  Everypony knows what he’s doing, and loves him for it.”

            	“I’ve noticed you all hold him in very high regard,” Rarity said solemnly.  Slate nodded.

            	“He’s one of the only things keeping the idea of Equestria alive, ma’am.  Most of us would follow him to the grave, if that’s what he needed.”

            	The casual reference to death made Rarity’s breath catch in her throat.  She gulped, thinking for a moment how out of place a sentence like that would have been in her Equestria. 

            	“I-I see,” she stammered quietly, then trotted to catch up.  “Your loyalty does you credit.”

            	“He’s earned it,” Slate said softly.  The two of them walked the rest of the way in thoughtful silence.

            	The building the council met in was nondescript, almost impossible to tell apart from the rest of the buildings in the cave city.  The only identifying mark was the placard in front, simply reading ‘City Hall’.  The building was made of beige bricks, and the only real decoration was a stained glass window, visible on the second floor.  It was Fluttershy; her eyes were closed, her wings spread, and her mouth open in song as birds orbited about her.

            	“It’s gorgeous,” Rarity choked, feeling a lump in her throat as she gazed at the beautiful form of her best friend, frozen forever in glass.

            	“You knew her, didn’t you?” Slate remarked softly.  Rarity nodded wordlessly.  “Is it true she… tamed him?  That he was evil, and he changed for her love?”

            	“It wasn’t love, not at first,” Rarity whispered.  “She had a way of making everypony around her want to be better.  It even affected a god of chaos.  Ponies just wanted to be around her.  She made us feel… safe.”  She sighed.  “Before I… disappeared, I suppose, he was just beginning to romance her.  I’m so sorry I missed that.  It would have been a story for the ages.”

            	“The big guy doesn’t like to talk about her,” Slate murmured.  He shook his head sharply.  “Sorry.  We all wonder, you know?  Wonder about the mare who was so amazing that the big guy is still pining for her a thousand years later.”

            	“I’d be happy to tell you all about her later,” Rarity offered,  “when I have more time.  It seems you and your fiancé both would appreciate some real stories from the past.”

            	“I think we’d both like that, ma’am,” Slate said as he led the both of them to the large, wooden double doors of the building.

            	“There’s no need to call me ma’am, Sir Slate,” Rarity said with a smile.  “I’m going to be working with your future sister-in-law, after all.”

            	“It’s only polite, ma’am.  This way, please,” Slate said gently.  

The doors opened into a spacious atrium, complete with a wide, circular desk.  Most ponies in the atrium were wearing the yellow armor of the Knights, a sight Rarity had grown familiar with over the last few weeks.  Some of the armor was in other colors, the colors of her friends, but with yellow bands painted around the forehooves and barrels of the armor.  Rarity hadn’t yet asked what that meant.  The various Knights stopped and glanced her way as soon as she entered, and Rarity saw more than a few bows or respectful nods.

            	“The council room is upstairs,” Slate said, showing Rarity to a narrow staircase leading up to the second floor.  Across from the top of the staircase was a large wooden door that was wide open.  Rarity could see to the other side, where light shone through the stained glass window from the outside, casting a brilliant rainbow of colors into the large room.

            	Heartwing was the only pony in the room, sitting slumped in a chair at the head of a long, oval table. He brightened when Rarity approached, motioning for her to have a seat.

            	“Thanks, Slate.  Can you close the door when you leave?  And let the other council members know I need just a moment with Miss Rarity when they arrive.  It shouldn’t take long.”

            	“Yes, sir.” Slate saluted, and shut the door behind him as he slipped out of the room.  Rarity walked cautiously over to Heartwing.  He looked tired, though he smiled at her.

            	“Take a seat, Rarity.  I have something I need to ask you before the council shows up.”

            	“Yes?” Rarity said as she took her seat. 

            	“I’m going to cut to the chase.  Rarity, I’d like to make you a member of Angel’s Rest’s council.  The leading governing body of the city.”

            	“I’m sorry, what?” Rarity asked, rubbing at her ears with her hooves.  “I’m sure I completely misheard you, darling.”  He couldn’t have possibly said what she had heard.

            	“You heard correctly, Rarity,” Heartwing said.  “I’d like to make you a member of the council.  It will be provisional, until your name is put on the ballot of the next general election.  Then, if you’re elected, you’ll be permanent.”

            	“But…why?” Rarity blubbered, confused.

            	“The Tree of Harmony gave you the task of finding the Elements and bearers, Rarity.  I’ll do everything I can to support you, but I think the Tree meant it to be your mission, not mine.”

            	“Why not you?” Rarity leaned forward, staring intently at Heartwing.  “You understand this world far better than I do.  You have hundreds of loyal ponies that would follow you to the end.  You even seem to have some ideas about where to find the Elements.  Why me?”

            	“I can’t be sure,” Heartwing began, “but I believe the Tree meant for you to lead.  Why wait until you were revealed to give us this mission, after all?  I have been fighting for Equestria since I awoke, and the Tree waited until now to reveal itself.”  He sounded certain.  “It was waiting for you.”

            	“You said yourself that I’m no longer connected to my Element, Heartwing,” Rarity argued.

            	“That’s true,” Heartwing said.  “Though we’ll need to find the Element of Generosity to be sure.  But I don’t think that matters.  I think you’re the best pony to take the lead with this quest, with me to back you up.”

            	“Explain,” Rarity said, eyes narrowing.

            	“You’re… untouched by this conflict.  I’ve been fighting against the Diarchy for centuries, Rarity.  My hooves are stained with blood, no matter what my intentions are.  But the Tree isn’t sending you to defeat the Diarchy, it’s sending you to restore Harmony.  It needs a pony who hasn’t been… tainted.”

            	“Surely you cannot be suggesting that…”

            	“Rarity, don’t,” Heartwing interrupted.  “I know who I am.  I know what I’ve done.  Whatever my intentions were, I’ve fought and I’ve killed.  You’re… pure.”

            	“Heartwing, I…” Rarity began, before a knock on the door interrupted her.  Heartwing held up a hoof to her to pause whatever she was going to say.

            	“Yes?” he called out loudly.

            	“Sir, the rest of the council has gathered,” Slate spoke through the door.  “Are you ready for them to come in?”

“Are we?” Heartwing said softly, and Rarity nodded nervously.

            	“Come on in,” he said.  The door opened, and four other creatures entered the council room.  One, the armored griffon Cobalt, was familiar to Rarity.  The others were strangers, and all three eyed her curiously.

            	“Rarity, I’d like to introduce you to the Angel’s Rest council.  You’ve met Cobalt, my second-in-command,” Heartwing said.  Cobalt nodded at Rarity with a small smile.  

“This is Mayor Cactus Flower.” He gestured to a middle-aged green unicorn mare with a pink mane, who shook Rarity’s hoof.  “She’s the elected civilian representative.”  

He moved down the line.  “Next is Top Brass, who is in charge of our local defense force and non-Knight military forces.”  The ancient looking brass-colored earth pony stallion shook hooves with Rarity.  

“And finally, Ninelives, who is in charge of our intelligence service.”  Ninelives was a scrawny zebra stallion, covered from head to hoof in dozens of small scars, burns, and other disfigurations, none of which detracted from his charismatic smile.  He enthusiastically shook Rarity’s hoof.

            	“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Rarity,” the zebra said, while the others nodded.  “Sir Heartwing has told us much about you.  The real you, that is, and not the make-believe one in the Book.”

            	“I’m really going to have to read that book one day,” Rarity muttered, as the council members filtered into the room and took their seats around the table.

            	“I am sorry to interrupt your business, but I have received some distressing news, and we need to move quickly,” Heartwing began without preamble.  “First, you are all familiar with what happened in Manehatten.  Rarity, I have filled them in with all the details of the mission the Tree of Harmony gave to you.”  Rarity’s eyes narrowed at the second-pony pronoun, but she let it stand.  “I’ve also told them about the third pony present, the Diarchy Knight named Emberglow.  What I haven’t mentioned is this: I believe Emberglow to be one of the bearers of the Elements of Harmony we were asked to find.

            	“After we led Miss Rarity out of the cave, Emberglow decided to return to the Diarchy, to confront an old mentor about some of the things she had learned.” Heartwing sighed, and around the table each council member made their own dismayed noises.  “Ninelives, you know this next bit.  I’ve had some of our intelligence agents keeping an eye on her, and for the last few weeks, she’s been safe.  But now she’s flown off to confront her old mentor, Sir Steadfast Word.”

            	There were murmurs around the table, and Cobalt swore loudly, earning a harsh glare from Top Brass.  Rarity’s face screwed up in a look of confusion.

            	“Who is this Sir Steadfast Word?” she asked.

            	“A real bastard,” Ninelives cut in, before glancing at Heartwing.  Heartwing motioned for the zebra to go ahead.  “He’s a Master Inquisitor, very high up.  Basically, fourth in line to be Grand Master of the Knights Mystics.  But he’s canny.  Smart and charismatic.  He’s been more successful than any of his fellows in uncovering and combating my agents.  And he’s got ambitions.  He’s cultivating influence among the other orders, and I think he’s plotting some sort of coup within his own order.”

            	“And Emberglow knows all this?” Rarity asked.  Ninelives shrugged, and looked back at Heartwing

            	“I don’t think so,” Heartwing shook his head.  “She didn’t seem the type to be a willing participant in manipulative political machinations.  She seemed far too…” He paused, twirling one hoof idly. “…naïve.  She pretty much flew straight into the dragon’s maw, so to speak.  She’s been captured.”  The council creatures looked down, several shaking their heads. 

Rarity’s breath froze in her chest; her mind conjured images of the sweet, confused mare who had been there when she’d first awoken.  From the looks on the other council member’s faces, Emberglow was nearly guaranteed a horrid fate.

“Is there something we can do?” she asked hesitantly.  

“That’s why I called this meeting,” Heartwing answered, his voice solemn.  “Rarity, I’ve been asked to lead these ponies, so I have to do what’s best for the whole of Angel’s Rest, and the Knights Discordant.  I can’t go haring off on a rescue mission, whatever I might want.  Especially to rescue an unproven asset.  I just can’t, Rarity.”

“So you’re going to do nothing?” Rarity asked, her indignation growing.

“No. I’m going to do something, Rarity,” Heartwing said.  “Council Members, this mission that the Tree has given us is important, even essential, to our survival and the survival of our cause.  I propose that we instate Rarity as a provisionary member of our council, until such time as a formal vote can be called.  She will be in charge of all things related to the Tree of Harmony, the search for the Elements and their bearers, and of the return of alicorns to Equestria.”

Rarity glanced around at the various council members, mostly complete strangers.  Cobalt was nodding supportively, and Ninelives grinned.  Top Brass eyed her speculatively, though he didn’t appear hostile.  The last, Mayor Cactus Flower, nodded slowly and carefully.

It was on the tip of Rarity’s tongue to say no.  To refuse.  To turn him down.  This wasn’t her fight.  Her war.  She was a fashionista!  A businessmare!  She…

And then she felt it.  The faint rustling of ghostly wings.  A familiar scent on the air, the smell of musty library books and scrolls scorched by dragon fire.  A ghostly hoof on her shoulder, real enough to make Rarity turn and look, expecting for a heartbeat to see a familiar encouraging smile and sparkling purple eyes.  There was nothing.  Rarity gulped, turning her head back to face the expectant looking council members.

“I’ll do it.  I-if you’ll have me, that is,” Rarity declared.  She wondered if anypony else had seen or heard anything.  “Only, I don’t know exactly what it means to be on this council.”

“The council votes on all matters of governance and importance in Angel’s Rest,” Heartwing explained.  “Although we usually defer to each other in our own spheres of influence.  And when the matter involves what you’re in charge of, your vote breaks ties.”

“He makes it sound far more complicated than it is,” Top Brass admitted, his gruff voice oddly soft.  He shifted his eyes to Heartwing.  “Usually we defer to the voice of greatest wisdom on the council.”  Every other eye landed on Heartwing as well, and he looked uncomfortable.

“Shall we vote on the matter, then?” Heartwing called out.  “All in favor of Rarity’s provisional appointment to our council?”  

Every hoof went up.  The confidence both terrified and gratified her.  “I suppose I don’t need to call for an opposing vote, then,” Heartwing murmured.  

“So, Council Member Rarity,” Ninelives began.  “Sir Heartwing has suggested that your mission is essential to our survival, and that this Knight, Emberglow, may be key.  And also that she may be in need of a rescue.  How would you like to proceed?”

“I apologize that I’m not exactly familiar with your…” Rarity received a sidelong glance from Heartwing and corrected herself.  “…or rather, our resources and capabilities.  If Miss Emberglow truly is one of the Elements of Harmony, we need to rescue her.”  Her confidence grew with each word, and she once again thought she heard the rustling of feathers around her.  Well, Twilight darling, as long as I have your approval…  “Tell me what we know about where she’s being held.”

For a moment, she was reminded of chats she’d had with various employees over the years.  Sassy Saddles, Coco, even Plaid Stripes.  While these ponies (and griffon, and zebra) didn’t necessarily work for her, she realized they now looked to her for authority on this matter. 

“It’s a camp near the frontlines of the griffon-Diarchy war,” Ninelives said.  “I only have a single agent in the camp.  That’s how we knew Emberglow was captured.  It doesn’t appear to be a regular army camp; rather, Sir Steadfast seems to have deployed near the border to search for something.  We have been unable to ascertain what, but our source did say he was looking into the burial place of one Gallus Freewind.”

“Gallus Freewind?” Rarity asked, looking at Heartwing.  “Surely that couldn’t be the same Gallus that attended the School of Friendship?”

“Yes, that’s him,” Heartwing said.  “He made quite a name for himself in the years after you disappeared.  Became quite the adventurer, though he always kept in touch with his friends.  He’s a hero to the griffons now, and he made sure to pass on the lessons you six taught him.”  Heartwing reached out, offering a hoof-bump to Cobalt, who returned it with a fisted claw and a smirk.  “Gallus is the reason the griffons and I have an officer exchange program.  His writings and philosophies led to the griffons being open to an alliance between my ponies and their military forces, which is how I ended up with a great number two.”

“We still tell stories about The Freewind,” Cobalt said.  “I’d love to hear some new ones from you, miss Rarity.  When we have time, of course.  But why would this Steadfast be looking for Gallus’ tomb?  Everygriff knows he’s buried in Griffonstone.”

“I don’t know why, but whatever Sir Steadfast is looking for, it’s small,” Ninelives said.  “My source says the three Knights he brought to camp with him have been studying gem finding spells.”

“Gem finding?” Heartwing said.  “He’s looking for the Elements, too, then.”

“Apparently he brought a small box with him, that he retrieved from the depths of the Mystics’ vaults in New Canterlot City,” Ninelives continued.  “Small enough to hold a gem.  He never lets it out of his sight.”

“Hmm,” Heartwing mused.  “Rarity, you’re still able to cast your gem finding spell, right?”

“Cast the spell that earned me my cutie mark?” Rarity scoffed.  “Darling, you insult me.”

“Sir,” Cobalt objected, his face turning worried.  “You’re thinking about sending an untested civilian into a Mystic camp on a rescue mission?”

“Untested civilian?” Heartwing scoffed.  “Rarity and her friends have seen combat, Cobalt.”

“Of a sort, I suppose,” Rarity admitted.

            	“Besides,” Heartwing continued before Rarity could say anything else.  “I don’t believe she should go alone.   A squadron of Knights, at least.”

            	“I think subtlety is the correct approach,” Ninelives cut in.  “Fewer Knights, more sneaking.”

            	“That’s always your answer,” Top Brass scoffed.  “Though you might be right, this time.”

            	“I would certainly prefer not to be engaged in some violent melee,” Rarity agreed.  “You have an idea for a more subtle approach?”  She was met with several grins from around the council table.

            	“I may have a gift for illusion potions,” Ninelives said proudly.  “One sip can change the color of your mane.  Two changes your coat.  An entire flask can even make your horn disappear.”

            	“My mane?” Rarity gasped nervously, reaching up with one hoof to bounce her elegant curls.  “I’m not entirely sure…”

            	“Relax, Miss Rarity.  The transformation is purely temporary,” Ninelives assured.

            	“We have the beginnings of a rescue plan, then,” Heartwing said.  “We only need to decide who will be going with Miss Rarity.  I, for one, think…”

            	“No,” Top Brass interrupted.

            	“But…”

            	“No,” Ninelives added, smirking at Heartwing.  Heartwing opened his mouth to argue.

            	“No,” Mayor Cactus Flower interjected with an eye roll.

            	“You will be absolutely outvoted in this matter, Sir Heartwing,” Cobalt said.  “You are far too valuable to be risked on something like this.  I will go in your stead.”

            	Rarity looked at the griffon soldier, who cut quite a martial figure in his polished silver armor.  He was lean and muscled, and carried himself with graceful confidence.  She realized she could probably do much worse.

            	“Who else?” Ninelives asked.  A pained look crossed Heartwing’s face, and he looked away.  Cobalt nodded.

            	“What?” Rarity asked, sensing that an unspoken conversation was passing between Heartwing and his council.

            	“You’ll need some long-range support as well,” Heartwing said nervously.  “And that means Terminus Flash.  If he’s willing.”

            	“You know he will be,” Cobalt said.  “Eagerly, even, if it means you’ll stay behind.”  Rarity flinched as Heartwing swore under his breath.  The thought of leading one of her new friends into battle filled her with nervousness and guilt, but Rarity sensed the importance of this mission.

            	“I imagine I will feel quite safe surrounded by such valiant Knights as Sir Cobalt and Sir Terminus,” Rarity said.  “Now, if you please, I have more questions about the risks we face, and how we can best mitigate them.”
> Chapter 28
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 28


            	THE PASSING OF A TITAN

By Inked Stamp, New Canterlot Times

The entire world weeps today at the sudden and unexpected passing of Lady Candleflame, Grand Master of the Knights Mystic.  She was found Wednesday evening in her New Canterlot City apartment, passed away in her sleep.

Lady Candleflame had served in her position as Grand Master for two years, filling the position when the former Grand Master, Sir Morrel, was murdered by heretic assassins.  She will be succeeded by Lady Nickelplate, who will be sworn in Sunday morning in a private ceremony.

“This has taken us all by complete surprise,” quoted a shaken-looking Sir Steadfast Word, High Inquisitor.  “Nopony was ready for Lady Candleflame’s passing.  She has served faithfully for three decades, and we all anticipated serving under her for several more.  Her leadership and her vision will be sorely missed.”

Public memorial services for Lady Candleflame will be held at the Central Cathedral, starting at ten o’clock Sunday morning. 

 1112 AF, New Canterlot City

            	There was something comforting about putting on formal attire after months of hiding out in the Tale family manor.  It was an odd sort of comfort; Lofty would have preferred to continue hiding in the manor, slowly digesting and coming to terms with the riotous changes that had descended on his life.  If he did have to go out and deal with high society, however, it was nice to do so wearing the disguise of haute couture. 

Tonight’s had been assembled by his sister, who had always been better at the subtle details of fashion and high society. It was a perfectly tailored suit, black to match his mane, with a starched white silk shirt underneath. 

No tie, though — he’d drawn the line quite firmly at that.

            	As he sat in the coach heading to the reception hall, he couldn’t help fidgeting in the clothes, poking at the unbelievably soft silk.  It was nice, and fancy, but like everything high society, it was also grievously excessive — Lofty was painfully aware of just how many bits Graceful Tale had spent on his attire for the evening.  Even as he admired the craftsponyship, his keen mind couldn’t help but catalogue the amount of good he could have done with the bits instead.  The pants alone could have fed a family of four for a week.

            	It was all about the big picture, he reminded himself with a sigh.  Going to this Saints-cursed party would provide a hefty endowment of bits, in perpetuity, for his soup kitchen. He tried to keep that in mind as the coach rolled towards the coming disaster.

            	In New Canterlot City, everything a noblepony said or did sent a message.  When Lofty stepped out of the coach and saw the exterior of the decorated reception hall, it was obvious what message the pontiff and his confessors were trying to send.  Nopony could miss the horribly clashing colored streamers and balloons, bundled in the pastels of the six Saints, hung on each street lamp surrounding the hall.  Painfully over-saturated banners proclaiming ‘Welcome Crystal Ponies’ hung overhead, all painted with the brightest, most obnoxious colors possible.  The whole place was, in short, garish, vulgar, and ostentatious in the extreme.  

Ahead, a plushy red carpet extended from the wooden front doors, which had been swung open wide.  There were already nobleponies milling about on the carpet, chatting and laughing with each other as they trickled into the hall.

            	It took only a half-second’s glance for Lofty to realize he had no desire to stop and speak with anypony outside the hall.  As quickly as he could without seeming rude or antisocial, he brushed past the slower-moving nobleponies towards the two formally dressed guards at the doors.  He was painfully aware of the speculative glances that were fired his way as he gave his name to the door guard.  He hadn’t been seen in high society for months now, after all.

            	The interior of the hall was just as gaudy and over-decorated as the outside.  Streamers and balloons splattered the inside as well, and dozens of paintings in gilded, gold-leafed frames illustrated the heroic deeds of the six Saints.  Lofty noted that many of the paintings depicted scenes of the Saints defending the Northern Empire from Sombra, the first Great Heretic.  It was clearly deliberate.  Over-decorated though it was, the interior was still much quieter than outside had been. Lofty could hear the slightest murmur of conversation over the gentle music of a string quintet.

            	The most interesting and unique things in the room, however, were the crystal ponies themselves.  There were only seven of them, spread throughout the room, but they drew Lofty’s gaze the instant he stepped into the hall.  Like other ponies, their manes and coats were a rainbow mix of colors, but instead of fur, they had a strange glossiness to their coats and manes, an almost polished quality. 

Their attire was also odd, though this made sense to Lofty; after a thousand years of separation between the two cultures, of course fashion would have deviated.  The dresses on the three crystal mares, in particular, were almost shockingly different.  Each one was slit high on the back leg, showing nearly all the way up to each crystal pony’s cutie mark.  In fact, on one of the mares, who had her back to Lofty as she chatted with a pair of stallions, he could just make out the bottom of a sunny orange shape on her bright yellow flank.  It was the kind of scandalously daring fashion that no mare in the Diarchy would be brave enough to wear, but the crystal ponies seemed to think nothing of it.

Then the mare turned to glance at him, and Lofty’s breath froze in his throat.  Loose, gentle curls of orange mane framed a perfect face with sparkling ruby eyes.  Her dress, scandalous though it might be, was a ruby red that shimmered and set off her eyes.  Lofty’s legs twitched; he wanted to immediately walk over and introduce himself, but he hesitated.

You’re not that stallion anymore.  You can’t think the way you used to.

But that wasn’t completely accurate, was it?  He’d crossed the line into disgrace, and sown the seeds of his own dishonor.  What more was there left to lose?  Besides, if he was forced to be at this farce of a reception, at least he could have some fun.  With renewed confidence in his gait, he trotted over to the stunning crystal mare.

As he approached the mare, he felt the old thrill of excitement. For a time, flirting had been a way of life for Lofty.  At first, it had been a coping mechanism for dealing with Emberglow’s rejection.  Then he’d realized just how good he was, and just what effect his smile had on mares, and it had become fun, at least until the consequences had occurred. 

He could hear the conversation the three ponies were having as he approached.  Lofty was familiar with both stallions.  They were from important families, perhaps, but Ochre Clay’s vapid expression did nothing to hide his blank mind, and Tight Caulk, a stallion twice Lofty’s age, was in the process of regaling the poor mare with the importance of his bloodline while his eyes trailed over the mare with a lustful sneer. 

 “... far back as the year seven forty-two After Founding, when my illustrious ancestor Red Sands the Explorer found the Sky’s Path, the only known pass through the barrier mountains between your home and ours.  Someday, trade caravans could be moving back and forth on the very path trod by—"

“Excuse me,” he interrupted, sidling up next to the three ponies. Tight Caulk spared a moment to scowl angrily at Lofty, though he ignored the look.  His eyes were only for the crystal mare.  “The hosts of this reception went to all the trouble of arranging music for dancing, but nopony is taking advantage of the opportunity.  I could repair this travesty, but I only lack a willing partner.”  He held out a hoof to the mare, making sure to deliberately ignore the other two stallions.

“Wait a moment, young stallion, we were…” Tight Caulk demanded, but with a smirk, the crystal mare took Lofty’s hoof with barely an apologetic look at the lecherous old stallion.

As soon as they were far enough away from the two stallions, Lofty grimaced. “I’m sorry, miss.  As far as lines go, that was probably one of my weakest.  I’m a touch out of practice,” he whispered to the crystal mare as he guided her to the empty spot in front of the string quintet.

“You are forgiven, sir,” the mare laughed.  Her voice was musical, with an accent he’d never heard before.  “I was already trying to find a way to politely escape my previous company anyways.”

“Then I am pleased to have been of service,” he said.  “My name is Lofty Tale.”

“Topaz Glitter,” she replied, and the two shook hooves.  “So did you really wish to dance, or were you just coming to my rescue?”

“I can want both things.”  Lofty grinned as the two of them turned to face each other.  “So, is ballroom dancing taught in the Empire, Miss Glitter?”

“Of course.  Would you like a demonstration?”

“Oh, a cultural exchange!” Lofty smirked.  “I would love to see how a crystal mare dances.”

He took her right forehoof in his left, and placed his other on her shoulder.  He led them in a slow, gentle ballroom dance, spinning in front of the musicians as the two of them ignored the glances they were receiving.

“You’re a very graceful dancer, Lofty.  Much more experienced than me.”

“Why, thank you,” Lofty replied as they spun about the dance floor.  “You don’t have much time to practice ballroom dancing working as a diplomat for the Empire?”

“I’m not really a diplomat by profession,” Miss Glitter replied with a sheepish grin.  “This is more of a… political appointment.”

“What do you do, then?” Lofty asked.

“I’m a social worker, actually,” Miss Glitter said.  Lofty’s expression betrayed his confusion, and she giggled.  “You don’t have those here?  I’m a counselor, specializing in romantic relationships, marriage, and sexuality.”

“I... see,” Lofty said, though he didn’t, really.  A counselor, for… relationships? Sexuality?  He was slightly curious, but realized the subject might be a bit dangerous, considering how different the crystal ponies seemed to be. He wasn’t quite trained in foreign diplomacy, and certainly didn’t want to offend her, so he changed the subject.  “If you’re not a diplomat by profession, why were you appointed to this embassy?”

“Hmm,” Miss Glitter hummed lightly, with a sly smile.  “I imagine it’s for the same reason that a lot of the Diarchy ponies are here at this reception.”

“Oh?” Lofty asked, confused.  He looked at the expression on Miss Glitter’s face, the thoughtful, clever sort of smirk, and it clicked.  “Who did you upset?”  Her grin widened.  He was suddenly quite impressed with this perceptive mare.  This little conversation was turning out to be even more interesting than he’d originally thought.

“So I was right?” she fired back smugly, ignoring his question.

“Yes, dear lady, unfortunately, you are correct,” Lofty said.  “Every noble family of any importance in New Canterlot City has indeed sent representatives to this reception.  But those representatives… well, they’re not exactly the best of the best.”

“A not so subtle insult, then,” Miss Glitter confirmed.  Lofty nodded.

“One that you crystal ponies were supposed to be too ignorant or socially inept to realize so quickly,” Lofty scoffed.  “That clearly went well.”  The two shared a laugh.  “Every pony here is a disgrace to their family, an embarrassment to be hidden away and ignored, until something like this comes up.”

“What about you, though?” Miss Glitter asked.  “You seem normal.” She seemed to realize that the question was impolitic and grimaced, opening her mouth to maybe apologize, or even retract the question.

“Ah, but appearances can be deceiving.  I’m possibly one of the most disgraced stallions here,” Lofty interrupted before she could, hiding the sudden pang of hurt he felt behind his confident smirk.  “After all, nopony else here was drummed out of the Knighthood.”

“Really!?” Miss Glitter gasped, her eyes alight with curiosity.  “A Knight!  I’ve never spoken to a Knight before, I...” she blushed and trailed off into silence.  “… I’m sorry.  I’m sure it’s a sore subject.”

“I don’t mind,” Lofty said.  “You’re curious about Knights, Miss Glitter?”

“A bit, yeah,” she admitted.  “I’ve heard stories, but…”

“I’m afraid I don’t have too many stories to tell.  I was barely a Knight for even a year,” Lofty said dismissively. 

“W-what happened?” Miss Glitter asked, her curiosity clearly warring with her politeness.

“Nothing too sordid, I assure you,” Lofty admitted.  He expected to feel reluctant to share, but oddly didn’t.  “I used to be a Knight Vigilant.  Before swearing my Order’s oath of chastity, I… well, ‘sowed some wild oats’, as the phrase goes.  I thought nothing of it until nearly a year later, after joining the Knighthood.  One of my indiscretions proved more fruitful than expected.”  He let out a sigh.  “I wasn’t automatically banished, as the incident had taken place before my oath.  I had a choice; give the foal I had fathered up for adoption and continue in the Knighthood, or raise my son and retire in disgrace.”

“Oath of… chastity?” The look on Miss Glitter’s face was a mixture of both shock and horror.  “You mean you were to never…” she gulped as she trailed off.  “Um.  Never?  That’s awful.”

“Never,” Lofty shook his head, and had to laugh a little at her horrified look.  “Is that so alien to you?”

“I g-guess so?” she stammered, coloring as she seemed to realize just how imprudent she was being.  “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Lofty said.  “I’m not bound by it any longer.  I chose to raise my son.”  He paused thoughtfully.  “Though, some advice?  If you’re going to be a diplomat, I’d avoid calling sacred oaths ‘awful’.”  He made sure to keep his voice light.

“Noted,” Miss Glitter said with a little embarrassed smile.  He found he enjoyed the way her lips curled up shyly.  “So, you picked family over everything else?” She sounded relieved to change the subject.  Lofty nodded, eyeing his dance partner with surprise.  Nopony else had seen straight to his own position on the subject so quickly, nor had stated the fact so simply and frankly.  “I don’t think that’s disgraceful at all.”  She sounded impressed.  

“W-well, now you know what happened to me,” he stammered awkwardly, unsure what to make of her odd reaction.  It wasn’t the same judgement and contempt he was used to; indeed, he was still getting sidelong glances from the other Diarchy nobles in the hall.  “Since we’re sharing our most embarrassing moments…” he trailed off expectantly, and Miss Glitter shrugged.

“Fair is fair, I suppose,” she admitted.  “I was banished from the Crystal Palace when I called the ruler of all crystal ponies a coward.  To her face.  In open court.”  Her voice dropped with embarrassment with each sentence, finally ending in a whispered mutter.

“Oh?” Lofty asked.  “I’m sure there’s more to that story.”

“Maybe a bit,” she said.  “But…”

“Say no more,” Lofty interrupted.  Her discomfort was obvious, and this whole dance and conversation was supposed to be for fun.  “I’d rather talk more about you, Miss Glitter.  How are you liking the City?”

“Please, call me Topaz.”  She grinned.  “And the city’s too warm.”

“Too warm?”  The two continued to spin about the dance floor.  A few other ponies had chosen to join them, and the quintet began a new tune, slightly more upbeat.  The pace of the dancing increased.

“Oh yes.  The Crystal Empire’s much colder.  I mean, seriously.  How do ponies ski around here?”

The sudden non-sequitur caught Lofty by surprise, and he let out a startled spurt of laughter.  Skiing?  He’d gone twice before as a young foal, but it wasn’t a particularly popular pastime; most of the continent’s suitable ski slopes were outside the borders of the Diarchy, far to the north in the Empire.  There were a few slopes, though only the fabulously wealthy ever had the chance.

“Skiing?  Is that what you miss the most?” Lofty teased.  Topaz smiled, but there was a sudden shadow over her expression.

“It is very different here,” she sighed.  “I miss…” she trailed off.  “Never mind.”

“You can share with me.”

“Maybe not,” Topaz mused darkly.  “We were warned, before we came south.  There are certain topics we just can’t talk about.”  Her voice fell to a whisper.

“I see.” He nodded slowly.  “Well, if you need somepony to help you navigate the ins and outs of society here in New Canterlot City, I would like to humbly offer my services.”

“So enchanted by my presence that you’ll look for any excuse to spend more time with me?” Topaz teased.  Lofty grinned. 

“Yes ma’am,” Lofty said cheerfully.  The crystal mare was intriguing; she was clearly intelligent and well-spoken, and he wanted nothing more than to learn more about her.  “I would love nothing more than to have you over to my family’s manor for a visit.  Perhaps for lunch tomorrow?”

“Purely for the purpose of my social education, of course,” Topaz quipped, and Lofty laughed.

“Of course, Miss Topaz.  Only that.”  The song ended, and the two ponies took a small step apart.  “Let’s go see if there’s anything worth drinking at the bar.”

The bar, as it turned out, had somehow managed to source several bottles of smuggled crystal berry wine, apparently a delicacy from the Crystal Empire. Topaz was quite excited, and immediately demanded that Lofty try some.  He was reluctant, even though he was no longer a part of the Knighthood, and his oath of sobriety was no longer in force.  But the eager look on Topaz’s face, along with the glint of pleasure in her eyes, convinced him.  

The bartender provided the two of them with a pair of fluted champagne glasses, full of a chilled dark purple wine.  Lofty sipped cautiously, but was rather surprised as the taste hit his tongue.  It reminded him of a semi-dry blueberry wine, lightly fruity and just slightly sweet.  The carbonation was even more surprising; just enough to tickle his tongue.

“This is amazing,” he said, after a few small sips.  Even if he was going to indulge, he could do so carefully.  "Like blueberry wine.”

“They make wine out of blueberries?” Topaz asked.  “We barely see any up north.  Most fruit has to be imported from Zebrica.”

“I may have to ply you with all sorts of berry-themed wines, then,” Lofty teased, though inwardly he promised himself to be cautious.  It wasn’t just the former oath of sobriety that held him back; some part of him would always remember the day he had stumbled down his best friend’s street, drunkenly shouting her name.

“Very well, Lofty Tale,” Topaz said, her voice both formal and flirty.  “I shall be quite pleased to accept your invitation for conversation, company, and fine wines.”

“You will not be embarrassed to be seen with such a disgrace?” he asked, keeping his voice light despite the roil in his gut.

“Where I come from,” Topaz mused thoughtfully, sipping at her glass, “ponies are praised for putting their family above their careers and their own ambitions.”

“Thank you for saying so,” Lofty said softly.  In truth, speaking with the young mare was unsettling him a bit.  A small part of him longed for the fairy tale that the Crystal Empire seemed to be.  It wasn’t as if he had much attachment to his family and home any longer, besides True, of course, but even the brief moment of fantasy pricked him with guilt.

Lofty spent the rest of the reception with Topaz.  She was clever and funny, and Lofty found himself forgetting his own issues as he spoke with the intriguing mare.  After the first glass of crystal berry wine, he switched to water, and after a moment’s hesitation, she did as well.  It didn’t matter; he didn’t need alcohol to make the time fly.  What had been an evening he had dreaded had turned into something quite fun.  When he finally had to say goodnight to the intriguing mare, it was with great disappointment..

“This is the point in the fairy tale where the prince says something like, ‘I will count the hours until I see you again, fair maiden’,” Topaz said, when Lofty finally announced that he would have to leave.  He laughed.

“Didn’t you hear, Miss Topaz?  My name is Lofty, not Fairy.  I’m not that kind of Tale.”  He waggled his eyebrows, and gracefully reached down to take hold of her hoof.  While maintaining eye contact as much as possible, he lowered his head just enough so that he could gently brush his lips against her fur in the ageless gesture of gentlestallionly grace.  He was gratified to see her cheeks flush very slightly.  “I eagerly anticipate our next meeting.”

“Me too,” she whispered.  Her eyes didn’t leave him until he slipped out of the building.


*   *   *   *   *


            	Wednesday was Liturgy, and that meant confession day with Lofty’s confessor.  Part of his punishment for his disgrace was weekly meetings with Sir Tarpit, a Knight Jubilant assigned to look out for ‘at risk’ ponies such as Lofty.  Lofty knew enough about the inner workings of law and order in New Canterlot City to realize that his family position was why it was just weekly meetings he had to deal with,  instead of being shipped off to some reeducation camp.

            	Sir Tarpit had an office at the Jubilant Annex in the center of the City, but he always chose to hold their meetings in Lofty’s local cathedral.  He claimed the purpose was to make Lofty more comfortable.  Lofty was just happy he didn’t have to gallop all the way downtown once a week.  It was quite the trot from his home to the Annex.

            	The office was undecorated; just a blank, bare, and soulless room, with a simple writing desk and two cushions for sitting.  Lofty hated it, though he felt a practiced smile slipping onto his muzzle as he stepped inside.  Sir Tarpit was there, dressed in his pink robes.  The stallion was overweight and balding, with a perpetually serene look on his face.  He always kept what was left of his greying brown mane cut short.  He had shoved the desk up against one wall; Sir Tarpit didn’t believe in taking notes during their talks.

            	“Lofty!  Good to see you, my boy,” he called out as Lofty closed the door behind him.  “How was your week?”

            	Wonderful.  Blissful.  Surprisingly entertaining.

            	“It was just fine, sir,” he said respectfully.  It was true that he liked the old Jubilant, but Lofty certainly didn’t fully trust him.  It was hard to, when a wrong word, one slip of the tongue, could spell disaster.

            	“Good, good.  I suppose we should get the frustrating part of our conversation out of the way, first.”  He chuckled ruefully.  “I keep telling my superiors we’re wasting time.  You’re just as earnest and faithful now as you were when we first spoke, but procedure must be followed.  So.  Tell me about your personal development.  What were your sins this week, Lofty?”

Despite Sir Tarpit’s assurance, he was as thorough as ever.  If Lofty didn’t mention every jealous thought, every wrathful impulse, every unacted-upon lust, the shrewd old pony would dig.  So Lofty did his best to be as detailed as possible.  Honestly, he didn’t mind; Sir Tarpit didn’t judge, he only listened and offered suggestions here or there.  Still, it was a relief when Lofty got to the end of his list for the week.

“So, I heard your sister finally managed to get you out of your hermitage,” Sir Tarpit said, as soon as Lofty was done.

            	Lofty smirked, though he felt a slight nervous tickle in the back of his mind.  Tarpit was clever, often more clever than he let on.

            	“Oh yes, the reception ball for the new embassy,” Lofty said offhandedly.  

            	“How was it?” Sir Tarpit asked politely.

            	“It was nice to get out of the manor for a while, I suppose,” Lofty said.  Noncommittal, vague answers were safest; Sir Tarpit might be a pleasant pony, but Lofty still didn’t want him too curious.

            	“I would have been awfully uncomfortable, myself.” Sir Tarpit shuddered.  “In the presence of so many heathens…”

            	“They seemed just like normal ponies to me,” Lofty said, then silently cursed himself.  When he gave away too much information, Sir Tarpit liked to dig.

            	“Really?  Then they are better at hiding their true natures than I thought.  Tell me, how much time did you spend speaking with one of the heathens?”  The question was far too specific; Lofty assumed Sir Tarpit already knew the answer.

            	“Quite a bit, actually.  One of their diplomats was being hounded by Tight Caulk and Ochre Clay.  I thought it might be best to interject myself and forestall a major diplomatic incident when he inevitably tried to assault her.”

            	“Lofty,” Sir Tarpit scolded, though he was trying to hold in a smirk.  “You don’t need to be so judgmental.”

            	“I’m not wrong,” he commented, inwardly pleased to have deflected the conversation a bit.

            	“Still,” Sir Tarpit admonished, shaking his head with the smallest of smiles.  “You should at least try to be kind.”  He paused, his eyes sharp on Lofty.  “As it turns out, I was actually informed you had spent quite a bit of time dancing with the young lady.”

            	“Did I do something wrong?”  Lofty affected confusion.  “Wasn’t the point to try to make them feel welcome?”

            	“Don’t play coy, Lofty Tale,” Sir Tarpit said.  “You and I both know what that reception was really about.  Tell me, what did you learn about the heathen?”

            	There was a part of Lofty, a not insignificant part, that rebelled against the way Sir Tarpit spoke so dismissively of Topaz.  It was condescending to diminish a pony to a mere pejorative.  His eyes narrowed, though he managed to keep a handle on his annoyance before he said something rash.

            	“I learned that Miss Topaz Glitter,” he emphasized the name gently, “is young and not a diplomat by profession, but a therapist.  I learned she is intelligent, well-spoken, and perceptive.  She was well aware that the purpose of the reception was to insult the embassy.”

 	“Now you know I have to ask,” Sir Tarpit shuffled in his seat, glancing away for a moment.  “You know why we’re here.  Did you have any sinful temptations around this Topaz Glitter?”

            	“Not really,” Lofty said, which was mostly true.  Was he attracted to Topaz?  Most definitely.  She was interesting, and he wanted to spend more time with her.  But recent events had forced Lofty to have a much tighter control on his impulses.  “She’s pretty, sure.  And fun to be around.  But I don’t see anything coming of it.”  That part wasn’t quite honest at all.  He certainly hoped something came of it: at least one meeting at Lofty’s manor later today.  The trick was to not seem too interested, or Sir Tarpit would become bothersome.

            	“Do you think you can control your sexual impulses around her?” Sir Tarpit pressed, leaning forward.  Lofty tried not to cringe.  “Especially if you meet with her more?”

            	“Of course I can,” Lofty said.  “Sir, I’ve been months without a significant incident.”  That was what Sir Tarpit called anything romantic or sexual.  A ‘significant incident’.  Lofty found it useful to use the Knight’s own buzzwords.

            	Sir Tarpit’s eyes were sharp on Lofty, as if he were searching for something in Lofty’s expression.  “I see.  You seem confident.”  There was a flash of interest, and a delighted smile spread over his face  “This could be good.  Wonderful, even.  A unique opportunity to glorify the Saints.”

            	“Sir?” Lofty asked.

            	“Don’t you see, Lofty?”  Sir Tarpit’s voice was betraying his excitement.  “This could be the first time in history a crystal pony converts to the true faith.  You simply need to show her the way.”  He waved a hoof in the air expressively.  “My sources at the reception tell me that you spent the entire night, nearly, dancing and chatting with the mare.  Clearly she was quite taken with you.”  It was odd that he would admit his spying on Lofty so openly.  He must be truly enthused.  “You can spend more time in her company.  Become her friend, her confidante.  Her lover, even.  It doesn’t matter, if it’s for a noble goal.  As long as you get and hold her attention, you can show her the true will of the Saints.”

            	“O-of course, sir,” Lofty muttered.  He was taken completely off guard.  This was not what he had expected.

            	“Your continued meetings with the heathen have been approved by the Knights Mystic,” Sir Tarpit said.  Lofty felt a sudden shock of cold fear in his belly.  The attention of Mystics was never good; he would have to bring his grandfather into this.  There was anger, too; why did everything have to be so complicated, so political?  Why couldn’t he just enjoy some time with a beautiful mare?

            	“That’s good news,” Lofty said blandly, deliberately not asking how they knew about it in the first place, or how they would continue to keep their unwelcome eyes on the situation.  “I’m glad they approve.”

            	“Hah!” Tarpit chuckled ruefully.  “Nopony really enjoys the Mystics watching them too closely, Lofty. But I’m sure you’ll be fine.  The inquisitors wish you to continue your growing relationship with this young mare, and attempt to share with her the glories and wisdom of the Saints, hopefully to bring her into the fold.”  He paused thoughtfully, and his mouth curled down with distaste.  “You are also to give full and complete reports on everything that she says and does.  I’d rather not ask this of you, but my contact within the Mystics insisted.  I would prefer a more honest approach, but they must have their due.  You understand, of course. ”

He paused, and his eyes were sympathetic.  “Lofty, you and I both know you don’t belong here, having these conversations with me.”  He reached out with one hoof to gently pat Lofty’s.  “You’re not a danger to anypony.  You’re a wonderful stallion who made a mistake, and now you’re doing your best to make up for it.  I can see that it hurts you that others don’t see it.  That’s why this is such an opportunity! This will go a long way to proving your full repentance for your sins.”

            	“Of course,” Lofty answered, his heart pounding.  Fear, fury, and despair all spun together in a chaotic hurricane, a nightmare of dark emotions.  He would have to find a way to warn Topaz Glitter.  Sir Tarpit may have been harmless, but the Mystics guiding his hoof?  Much less so.

            	“Very good, Lofty.  You have no idea how excited I am for this opportunity.  The first crystal pony converts!”  He clopped his forehoves together with a bit of a laugh, before coloring slightly.  “Ahem.  Well then.  We should talk about some details.  From what we can gather, this mare is quite important in the Crystal Empire.  She’s a blood relative of their mysterious ruler, their ‘Princess’.  Please obtain as much information about her, and this princess, as you can.”  Lofty was nodding, his own thoughts still spinning.  


*   *   *   *   *


            	As soon as he got home, Lofty sought his grandfather out.  Righteous Tale was sitting alone in the library, napping with an open book spread out on the pillow in front of him.  Lofty shook him gently.

            	“Grandfather.  Grandfather!  I need you to wake up.”

            	Righteous tried to sleepily fend off his grandson with a shove of his hooves, but Lofty was persistent.  Finally the old stallion grunted, his eyes opening up baleful slits.

            	“Begone, pest,” he growled, and Lofty nearly laughed with relief.  There was something about Righteous Tale’s open animosity that felt refreshing after all the time he’d spent worrying about hidden Mystic handlers.

            	“Nope.  I need your advice.  Get up, old stallion.”

            	“Rude!” Righteous grunted, though he shifted so he was sitting up, and opened his eyes to look at Lofty.  “So.  Confession went poorly?”

            	“It went as well as usual,” Lofty growled.  “Only there’s more this time.”

            	“Oh?” Righteous raised an eyebrow.

            	“I told you about the crystal pony I met at the reception.  She’s coming for a social call this afternoon.  Only Sir Tarpit already knew about it.” Lofty let out a shuddering, angry breath.  “He approves, actually.  And he asked me to spy on her, while I try to convert her to the faith.”

            	“That makes sense,” Righteous said.  “If I were in his horseshoes, I’d do the exact same.”

            	“I’m not going to spy for them, grandfather.”

            	“Why not?” Righteous asked, and snorted at Lofty’s blank look.  “Don’t be an idiot, boy.  You owe nothing to this crystal pony.  If you risk the Mystic’s ire over a pretty face and a bouncing flank, you’re risking your entire family.  It’s not worth it.”

            	“Maybe you’re right,” Lofty sighed,  “but I’m no spy.  I’m not going to play snitch so the Mystics can persecute some innocent pony.”  He narrowed his eyes darkly at Righteous.  “I’m not going to betray anypony like that.  So if you care so much about what happens to me, and to this family, you need to give me advice.”

            	“I thought I just did,” Righteous muttered angrily.  “Fine.  You want to play with the Mystics, don’t cry when you get burned.”  He took a deep breath.  “The first question is how they’re spying on you.”

            	“What do you mean?”

            	“You don’t think they’ll just trust you to do this, do you?” Righteous said. "They’re going to find a way to keep tabs on you.”

            	“They could be listening right now?” Lofty tensed instinctively, lowering his voice.

            	“Unlikely,” Righteous scoffed. “Most noble mansions in New Canterlot City are built with rune enchantments written into every room.  Mechanical bugging devices simply won’t work, and enhanced hearing won’t pierce the walls.  To a pony, we nobles are a paranoid bunch.  If they were listening, we would have been raided and black-bagged weeks ago.  You might be safe in our mansion.”

            	“’Might.’”

            	“Yes, might,” Righteous shot back.  “If you’re looking for complete certainty and absolutes, you won’t find it here. So, you can either spend all your time trying to expose every traitorous leak, find every listening device, and dismantle every spell, or you can simply ignore it, and watch what you say.”

“So that’s all your advice is? ‘Watch what I say’?” Lofty asked sarcastically.  “Thanks, grandfather.  You’ve been quite helpful.”

            	“Shut your fool mouth, boy.  That’s the first part.  Not just you, but both of you need to watch what you say.  Which means you need to tell her what’s going on.  Which is dangerous.  And idiotic.  But you are the one setting the parameters for this little meeting, so…” he trailed off with the shrug of his shoulders.

            	“Okay, so I tell her, so we can both be careful what we’re saying, what we’re talking about.  What next?”

            	“Find a way to make it look like you’re doing what they want.  The manor is probably safe from ears, but meet here too often and your handlers will get suspicious.  You probably can’t trust the girl’s playacting…”

            	“I don’t know,” Lofty interrupted.  “She seems to be quite intelligent and perceptive.”

            	“Son, you’re an idiot, and you’re letting your lower brain think for you.  You know, the one you piss with.”  Lofty rolled his eyes at the vulgarity.  “Assume she can’t act.  Don’t try to come up with elaborate scenes or deceptions.  You’re supposed to be teaching her about our culture and society, right?  Try to make it all about religion, and your Jubilant handler will be happy.  Have her pretend to be interested, whether or not she is, and the Mystics will be happy with reports of your progress.  And talk to me about every single conversation you have with her before you report it to the Mystics.  I’ll see pitfalls you’ll miss.”

            	“I can do that,” Lofty said, thoughtfully.

            	“We’ll see,” Righteous spat.  “Now, go prepare for your little date, son.  And as soon as it’s over, come see me.”

            	Righteous Tale waved a hoof in clear dismissal, and Lofty bristled at the presumption.  Ostensibly, he was supposed to be in charge here, but this was undiscovered territory for him.  He needed Righteous’ guidance, and the old pony knew it.  Still, Lofty didn’t want to let the balance of power shift back to his grandfather.

            	“After my lunch with Miss Topaz, we will talk.  I’ll meet you right back here at two thirty.”

            	It was petty, giving him basically the same order he’d just given Lofty, and by the smirk on Righteous’ face, he knew it.  But Righteous finally nodded, breaking eye contact first, and Lofty left the room with a curt nod. 

It was not a complete victory — it was arguably not a victory at all — but at least Lofty felt slightly less frustrated at the exchange. Taking a deep breath, he set out towards his sun room. There was still a while before Topaz would arrive, and it would be good to relax his frayed nerves a little beforehand.


*   *   *   *   *


            	The sun room was a wide room, complete with a huge window that made up one wall and part of the ceiling.  In the morning and for most of the afternoon, the large window would let in plenty of sunlight.  Lofty’s mother had once used the room to grow flowers in the winter months, a tradition Lofty had continued.  Currently, the room was full of seasonal flowers, meticulously cultivated and curated by Lofty himself.  

Usually, there would also be a pair of lounge chairs, for when Lofty came and read in the afternoons when he wasn’t busy with his garden.  But today, the lounge chairs had been removed in favor of a small, café-style table with two chairs.  It was perfect for a sunny afternoon lunch date.

            	Lofty walked over to the small bookshelf he kept in the back of the room, idly browsing through the titles while he waited for Topaz to arrive.  One caught his eye; it was the journal of Strange Tale, his long dead ancestor, and the story of his journey to Zebrica to steal the secrets of firearms and gunpowder.  As a foal, the tales of adventure, danger, and suspense had filled him with wonder.  As a teenager, just barely learning about the weight of the family name and obligation, his ancestor’s actions had brought feelings of bitterness.  Now, however, he was a bit more mature, and the feelings of nostalgia and curiosity drove him to pull out the book.

            	He didn’t quite believe the words of his ancestor any longer, now that he understood how somepony could rewrite their own story to make themselves look better.  He was starting to suspect many of his illustrious ancestors had done similar things.  Still, it was at least an interesting read.  Reliable or not, Strange was a decent writer.

            	Lofty had just reached the point in the story where Strange had received a charter from the pontiff to try and steal zebra weapon technology when the door to the sun room was opened by the Tale family butler.

            	“Miss Topaz Glitter, sir,” he announced softly, and Lofty rose to his hooves, placing the book back on the shelf.  From behind the butler, Topaz emerged, walking into the sun room.

            	She was wearing a new dress, something much simpler than the one she had worn to the reception ball — a lime green sundress with a long skirt.  Apparently, Topaz had decided to go with some less daring fashion for their lunch.  Her mane was done up, though, and both it and her fur seemed to sparkle just a bit in the sunlight that streamed through the wide windows.

            	“Welcome, Miss Topaz.” Lofty walked over and graciously kissed her hoof.  “I hope you had a pleasant journey to my humble home.”  The butler gave a short bow and backed away, soon to be returning with their lunch.

            	“Oh, yes, so humble,” Topaz giggled.  “Two wings, with three stories.  So much humbler than my two-bedroom townhouse that I share with a roommate back home.”

            	“If you think this is big,” Lofty began as he pulled her chair out from the table for her, “you’d love my actual manor.  This is the second manor, for hiding the family rejects.  The original home is half again as big, though the garden is much less impressive.”

            	“I saw a very tasty looking vegetable garden on the way in,” Topaz said.  Lofty couldn’t help but preen just a little; he was rather proud of his little project.  He moved to his own chair and sat, just as the chef entered, bearing their lunch.

            	“Cucumber sandwiches, fresh garden crudité, served with a Dijon remoulade, and chilled sweet dandelion tea.  Enjoy, sir, madam.”  The chef set his tray down and slipped out of the sun room.

            	“Thank you,” Lofty said graciously.  He motioned to the food, and poured them both a cup of iced tea.  “I’m glad you could come, Miss Topaz.  I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a development you should be aware of.”

            	“Oh?” Topaz asked, taking hold of the offered cup and sipping lightly at the drink.

            	“As part of my ‘rehabilitation’ back into society after my disgrace—“ Lofty’s voice oozed with sarcasm “—I am required to be interviewed by a confessor twice a week.  Because of my position as a former Knight, that role is played by a Knight Jubilant.  We met just this morning, and he informed me that I am not only required to deepen our friendship so that I may spy on you and your embassy, but that I am also required to attempt to convert you to our faith.”

            	“That makes sense.” Topaz nodded.  She looked upset, but not surprised.  “It’s not any more than Ambassador Ruby Blade warned us would probably happen if we tried to make friends.  What’s really interesting is the fact that you’re telling me so openly.”

            	Her reaction was not what Lofty expected.  “What do you mean?”

            	“Well, you’re being honest about the whole thing.” Topaz mused, munching on a carrot that she’d snagged from the crudité tray.  “That could mean a lot of things.  Either it’s a part of a plot — you’re being honest in order to lure me into trusting you, so you can act out the nefarious plans of your handlers — or maybe you’re just being honest, because that’s what good ponies do.”

            	“Whichever one it is, I’d claim the latter,” Lofty pointed out, and Topaz laughed.

            	“Indeed.  So, Lofty, why are you telling me about your spying mission?”

            	“I’m just being honest,” he said, feeling a bit of weight lifting off his chest.  “It’s what a good pony would do.”  Topaz giggled again, and Lofty joined her this time.

            	“Seriously, though,” Topaz said after a moment.  “What do you want to do about it?”

            	“While we’re in my home, it will be difficult for others to spy on us.  However, outside of my manor, that changes.  If you choose to spend more time with me, we’ll have to be careful about what we say and do.”

            	“That was always going to be the case,” Topaz said cautiously.

            	“And we may have to leave the manor walls more often than not, in order to not arouse suspicions.”

            	“Hmm, religiously-mandated dates.” Topaz’ voice dropped sarcastically.  “How droll.”

            	“So this is officially a date then?” Lofty’s eyebrows waggled, and Topaz smirked at him.

            	“Do you always look for the brightest side of things, Lofty?” she asked.  “Because if you do, we’re going to get along great.  My cutie mark is a rising sun with a smiley face, after all.”

            	“Oh, I, uh…” Lofty was a bit taken aback.  Topaz looked at him with concern.

            	“Is everything… Oh!” she blushed.  “I forgot about that uh, cutie mark thing, I’m sorry.  It was in the etiquette crash course they gave us before our ship sailed.  You Diarchy ponies don’t talk about your cutie marks at all.”

            	“We usually don’t bring it up.” Lofty nodded.  “It’s just something that’s normally kept private, except between very close friends and family.”

            	“I guess it’s just a side effect of always wearing clothing,” Topaz mused.  “Up north, clothing is an accessory, not a necessity.  I’ve had complete strangers ask me about my cutie mark before, and thought nothing of it.”

            	“So, you’re unclad most of the time?” Lofty couldn’t help his curiosity.  “How do you…” he stopped himself before he could ask what was probably a rude question.

            	“How do we what?”

            	“No, it’s improper to ask,” Lofty demurred, but Topaz must have caught a hint of his embarrassment, because her grin became sly.

            	“No, ask away, Lofty.  After all, we’re here for cultural education, right?”

            	“Well, I was mostly just looking for an excuse to spend an afternoon with a cute mare…”

            	“Lofty, really.  You won’t offend me.  What are you wondering about?” Topaz asked.

            	“Um,” Lofty began.  “If you’re all naked all the time, how do you not…”  There was no polite way to say it. “Um, stare at each other’s bits all the time?”  It sounded so immature, but he literally couldn’t come up with another way to say it.

            	“Self-control,” Topaz said simply, then flinched.  “Wow, sorry.  That sounded very condescending.  That’s it, though.  I mean, if you keep your tail down and don’t stare, everything’s fine.  It’s this whole modesty thing I don’t get.  I heard a theory…” she trailed off, looking embarrassed herself.

            	“Topaz?”

            	“No, it’s rude, I couldn’t…”

            	“You made me ask my embarrassing question, Topaz.  It’s only fair,” Lofty demanded, taking a bit of pleasure in the way she squirmed.

            	“Well, I heard a theory once.  That’s one of the ways they control you.” Her voice grew soft and sad.  “They take away your individuality.  They delete your cutie mark, the mark of your destiny and special talent, in order to make you disappear into the herd.  Herds are easier to control than individuals.”

            	“I-I don’t know about that,” Lofty stammered, glancing towards the doorway.  He certainly didn’t want to think about it.  It sounded far fetched, and he wasn’t sure if he believed it, but then again, he wasn’t sure what he believed these days.  He was supposed to be a heretic now, after all. 

Regardless, it wasn’t the sort of conversation he wanted overheard, even if he did trust his staff.  He glanced carefully towards the doorway, and Topaz followed his gaze nervously.

            	“Forget it,” Topaz said, waving a hoof.  “I’d rather not make you uncomfortable.”

            	“I suppose you’re right,” Lofty said, relieved.

            	“We were instructed to avoid the topic of religion and faith.  We’re not supposed to criticize your faith at all.”  There was something worried in her tone.

            	“Was that one of the conditions for you ponies creating your embassy?” Lofty asked.

            	“No, it’s a rule that Ambassador Blade made.  Looks like I did a great job sticking to it.”  She sounded guilty.  Lofty shook his head.

            	“While we’re here in my house, I want you to feel safe to discuss whatever you want, okay?  Outside, we’ll have to be very careful, but as long as it’s just the two of us, we should be fine.”

            	“Okay,” Topaz said cautiously.  Lofty could see a hint of suspicion in her expression.

            	“So on the subject of cultural exchange, is there anything you’d like to know?” Lofty kept both his question and his tone open.  Best to let her guide the conversation if she felt uneasy.

            	“I’m very curious about Knights,” she admitted.  “If you’re comfortable talking about it.”

            	“What do you want to know?”

            	“Well, how are you different from normal ponies?”

            	“There’s a ritual.  I can’t…” He took a deep breath.  “I’m not allowed to share all the details, on pain of torture.”  He didn’t suppose it mattered much, as it was unlikely anypony would know.  But there was still a small part of him that wanted to think his experiences in Old Canterlot were sacred.  Special.  “But there are things I can tell you.  We’re enchanted.  We can run faster, and for longer, than other ponies.  We’re stronger, too.”

            	“What about rune spells?  Does that come with the Knighthood, too?”

            	Lofty was rather surprised.  She really didn’t know much.  “No, but typically only Knights have access to rune gauntlets.  They’re generally too expensive to make for the common pony to use, and the only place to learn runes is usually the Ivy Seminary, where they train Knights.”

            	“So anypony could do it?”

            	“I suppose?” Lofty said, though he wasn’t entirely sure.  “To be honest, though, I doubt it would pass without very serious questions.  If somepony was trotting about casting spells with a rune gauntlet, I’m sure the Knights Mystic would have some questions for them.”

            	“Knights Mystic.  That’s one of the Orders, right?”

            	“Yes.  Mystic, Radiant, Jubilant, Vigilant, and Adamant.”

            	“Shouldn’t there be six?  There were six Elements of Harmony, and six bearers.”

            	That was interesting.  So the Crystal Ponies told stories of the Saints as well.

            	“The Knights who served Saint Fluttershy became the Knights Discordant.  They’re heretics now,” Lofty said carefully.  This was a dangerous subject; even though he might be a heretic now, it was certainly not something he was willing to share with a near stranger, regardless of how enchanting she might be.

            	“Knights Discordant,” she echoed, and there was a hint of familiarity in her tone.  Lofty opened his mouth to ask what she knew, but stopped himself.  He wanted to avoid the truly dangerous topics.  He wasn’t even sure of his own relationship with the rebels just yet, and certainly didn’t want to let anything slip by accident.  She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts.  “So what about your order?  What were you?”

            	“I was of the Knights Vigilant, sworn to serve Saint Applejack the Honest.”  It was painfully ironic for him to say the words out loud, with how many lies he’d been forced into recently.

            	“And your job?” Topaz sounded eager and curious.  “Sorry, I don’t know what all the Orders do.”

            	“I was an investigator.  The Knights Vigilant are the pinnacle of the Diarchy’s justice system; we serve as magistrates and investigators.  We handle crimes too hard for the local constabulary to solve.”  He was surprised to hear the forlorn note in his own voice; he missed the Knighthood more than he’d thought, apparently.

            	A sudden gentle knock on the door interrupted whatever Topaz was going to ask next.

            	“Yes?” Lofty asked.

            	“Sorry to bother you, sir,” Nanny Brushstroke’s soft voice called from the other side of the sun room door.  “True wanted to come meet your guest.”  Lofty couldn’t help but smile.

            	“Your son?” Topaz whispered, and Lofty nodded.  “I’d love to meet him.”

            	“Come in, Nanny,” Lofty called out, and the door swung open to reveal True Tale.  Nanny had dressed him in his nicest suit, and his mane was freshly combed.  The toddler nervously rubbed his hooves together, his eyes darting about the room, between his father and the unfamiliar guest.

            	“Now Master True, remember your manners,” Nanny told him gently, and True nodded.

            	“Hi,” True said shyly, and Topaz had to hold a hoof over her mouth to hide her giggles.  True glanced back at the Nanny, who raised her eyebrows.  “Um…”

            	“Introduce yourself, young master,” she whispered helpfully.

            	“Oh yeah!” True said.  “I True Tale, nice meechya.”

            	“It’s lovely to meet you too, True!” Topaz cooed, standing up quickly to walk over and ruffle the foal’s mane. “You’re such a polite and handsome young colt.  Thank you for coming to meet me!  I’m Miss Topaz.” Out of the corner of his eye, Lofty saw Nanny Brushstroke subtly tense as Topaz approached. Perhaps not all in this house were so receptive to Topaz’s presence.  

            	“Topaz,” True repeated.

            	“Miss Topaz,” Nanny corrected.

            	“Mistopaz,” True said, and both Nanny and Lofty nodded approvingly.

            	“Very good, young master,” Nanny said.  Lofty could hear that her voice was just a little too formal.  “Was there anything else you wanted to say?”

            	“Wecom to our home,” he muttered shyly.

            	“Thank you, True,” Topaz said.  It was clear she was holding back delighted laughter.

            	“Yes, very well said, young sir,” Nanny said.  “Now, how would you like to read a story before naptime?”

            	“Naptime?” True moaned with dismay, though he trotted off after Nanny Brushstroke.

            	“Yes, and if you come without whining, I’ll let you pick two stories.”

            	“Two!” True cried with glee, and Lofty and Topaz broke into gales of laughter as the hoofbeats of an eager foal echoed down the hallway.  Nanny Brushstroke paused just long enough at the doorway to give Lofty a weighted glance, her eyebrows raised slightly with skeptical implication.  He wondered what it was about Topaz that made the old mare so disapproving.  But after a moment, she turned away, following his son down the hallway.

            	“Your son is adorable,” Topaz beamed, oblivious to the silent exchange. “His coloring is just like yours, and he has your eyes.  Very handsome.”

            	“Thank you,” Lofty replied.  “I love him very much.”

            	“So much that you gave up your Knighthood,” Topaz remarked bluntly.  He wondered why she’d  bring up something so uncomfortable.  “You might see it as a disgrace, but I’d call it a badge of honor.  Family’s important.”  There was a sadness to her tone at the end, and it sparked a memory from Lofty’s conversation with Sir Tarpit.

            	“You said you were exiled because of a falling out with the ruler of your Empire,” he said, and she nodded.  “I was recently informed that you’re related to her by blood.”

            	“My great grandmother, in fact.  If you add about a hundred greats.”

            	“How is that possible?” Lofty breathed.  It would have sounded unbelievable only a few months ago, but Lofty’s life had gone through some upheaval recently.  He was willing to believe at least a few impossible things.

            	“Princess Flurry Heart, daughter of Empress Cadence.  Ruler of the frozen North, raiser of the sun and moon,” Topaz intoned ritually.  “And also grandma, though I haven’t really called her that since I was about True’s age.”  She sighed sadly.  “It’s been a while since we’ve seen eye to eye.”

            	“What… is she?  How old is she?” Lofty asked.

            	“Princess Flurry is an alicorn,” Topaz said simply.  When Lofty gave her a blank look, she continued.  “She is all three of the pony races, rather than being just one.  An alicorn has immortality, immense power, as well as the magical legacy of all three pony tribes; earth, unicorn, and pegasus.  That’s why she has wings and a horn.”

            	“You can’t be serious,” Lofty argued, but there was no deception in Topaz’ face, or her clear eyes.  “I don’t think you’re lying, but…”

            	“You Diarchy ponies know nothing of alicorns?” she asked incredulously.  When Lofty shook his head, she stared.  “What do you teach about Twilight Sparkle, then?  What tribe was she from in your Book of the Saints?”

            	“Earth pony, of course.  Until she earned her wings and ascended.”

            	“Huh.” Topaz’ stunned eyes were locked on Lofty.

            	“What does that mean?” he asked, and Topaz shook her head.

            	“Maybe you’ll think I’m crazy, but I’m related to her.  Twilight Sparkle, that is.  I’m descended from her brother, Shining Armor, and his wife, the Empress Cadence.  Princess Flurry is their daughter, and Twilight Sparkle’s niece.  There’s a shrine to Princess Twilight in the Empress’ chambers.  I used to look at her statue all the time.”

            	“Saint Twilight had… a brother?” Lofty asked.  There was no mention of that in the Book of the Saints.

            	“Yes, and a niece, who is immortal and still alive today.  In fact, Twilight Sparkle should still be alive today, if something hadn’t killed her.  She was an alicorn too.”

            	“You mean…”

            	“Yes, Lofty.  Twilight Sparkle was born a unicorn, then earned her wings.”  She stared at his shocked expression.  “How could you ponies not know?”

“A unicorn?” Lofty gaped.  “No, that’s wrong.”  But his denial was automatic, born of years of teaching, not true conviction.  The last few weeks had not been kind on his belief, after all.  “Twilight Sparkle was an earth pony before she earned her wings and ascended.”

“I’d heard your faith teaches that pegasi are unique,” Topaz mused, as if to herself, before suddenly blinking with realization.  “Oh!  I did it again, didn’t I?”  Her face flushed with embarrassment.  “I’m sorry.  I said I wasn’t going to bring up awkward religious topics, and I dove right in again.”

“You’re just fine,” Lofty said quickly, unable to hide his own discomfort.

“If it would make you more comfortable, we could talk about something else,” Topaz’ eyes were on the table in front of her, and she rubbed her hooves together nervously.

“If you like, I’d love to hear more about the Empire.  Tell me about your home, Topaz.”  He could see the obvious relief in her eyes, and they cheerfully turned to less fraught conversation.

Still, there was an idea planted deep in Lofty’s head, an insidious and strange fancy.  Even as he chatted pleasantly with Topaz, the picture refused to leave his mind; Saint Twilight Sparkle, standing proud and imperious with wings spread, a unicorn’s horn jutting prominently from her forehead.

                
> Chapter 29
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 29


            	Letter fragment, sent from an unknown source to Saint Twilight, approx. 33 AF

Princess Twilight,

            	This letter is to inform you of a most distressing encounter between myself, my brother, and an unknown unicorn of nefarious intent.  As the two of us were travelling together towards a very lucrative business opportunity, we were approached by a young mare wearing a magical disguise.  Being the clever and talented entrepreneurs we are, we of course immediately saw through her disguise.

            	She proceeded to make us a business offer that we nearly couldn’t turn down.  Sales of our most recent brand of ‘Flim and Flam’s EZ Rich™ Correspondence Course’ have been slow recently (partially a result of your oh so helpful interference) and we have been looking for a new source of funds.  She was quite vague about what we would be doing, and who we would be working for, but my brother and I are clever enough to read between the lines.  Whatever she was recruiting us for, it had something to do with the recent anti-unicorn political upheavals throughout Equestria.

            	We told her we’d consider working with her.  The truth is, Princess, that we have no intention of doing so.  Our business ventures work best in circumstances of mild insecurity and unrest, not outright chaos and meltdown.  When things get as bad as they are in Manehatten right now, we stop making bits altogether.  It hurts us when things grow too unstable. So we thought we’d inform you about this mystery recruiter.

            	Should you wish to meet and obtain more information about this pony from the two of us, we should be very happy to arrange a deal of some sort with you.  Please come (or send a representative) to Not Yo Nacho’s Diner, located in Rainbow Falls, next Saturday at four PM.  We’d be happy to make a fair exchange for any more information we have, as well as the two strands of curly orange mane we were able to obtain from the recruiter.  I’m sure a clever magic user such as yourself could find all sorts of information via forensic spells from the mane strands.

            	Respectfully Yours,

            	Flim and Flam.

            	A second letter is attached to the first.

            	Twilight-

            	The Great and Powerful Trixie went to the diner just as you instructed (and enjoyed quite an expensive meal and dessert while I waited; you’ll be getting the tab in the mail).  Nopony came to meet Trixie, even though I waited for three hours.

            	The Helpful and Inquisitive Trixie became concerned.  I know Flim and Flam have had run-ins with you and your friends before, but they’re not evil ponies.  Trixie has encountered them on the road a few times during her more transient years, and they were not cruel or mean to me.  Trixie followed their back trail for a few days.  Flim and Flam did come to Rainbow Falls, like they said.  Then they just disappeared.  The Law-abiding Trixie then filed a missing pony report at the local police station.

            	Trixie will be coming home to Ponyville next, where you and I will sit down and have a very long conversation about Starlight Glimmer.  You promised, Princess.  I don’t care how mad you still are, you need to find Starlight and apologize.  We’ll talk about it more when Trixie gets home.

            	Signed,

            	Trixie

            	A third note follows the first two, dated ten years later

            	Princess Twilight,

            	My name is Magnifying Glass, detective of the Rainbow Falls police force.  I’m in charge of cold cases and missing pony files.  Recently, we made an alarming discovery of a gruesome nature.  Pony remains, several years old, were found tied in a weighted sack and dumped into one of the deeper pools up at the falls.  Preliminary forensics have identified the remains as Flim and Flam, ponies reported missing a decade ago.  We have yet to determine a cause of death, but both unicorns had their horns forcibly removed.

            	When I looked up the file, I noticed that a note had been attached to inform you if any developments have been made on their case.  I’m sorry to inform you about this development, Princess.  If you would like any further information, please feel free to contact me at my office or home at any time.

1112 AF, Camp Borealis

            	“I’m really starting to think this was a terrible idea!” Rarity called out over the rushing air.  She clung to the chariot with both hooves.  It was moving far too fast for her to be comfortable, much faster than when she and Heartwing had been flown out of Manehatten.  Plus, the wind was probably doing irreparable damage to her mane, despite the hood on her ‘dangerous mission outfit’. 

            	She didn’t really expect a response; both Cobalt and Terminus were pulling the chariot as quickly as they could, and they were visibly straining from the effort.  Rarity was impressed by the enhanced stamina of the two Knights, but after three hours of hard flying she was beginning to grow concerned for her new pegasus and griffon friends, despite their assurances that they did this sort of thing on a regular basis.

            	The sun was just barely starting to peek out over the horizon, sending a wave of colors through the sky.  Rarity couldn’t see much of the ground below; between the bright sun and the somewhat thick cloud cover, there wasn’t much to see right below them.  To the west, though…

            	“Do you recognize that mountain in the distance?” Terminus yelled, panting.  “That’s the Canterhorn.”

            	Years might pass, Rarity supposed, but at least mountains stayed the same, for the most part.  The mountain was tiny in the distance, so far that she couldn’t see any sign of the strange and whimsical architecture of Canterlot, but the familiar sight of the mountain was still somewhat comforting to her.  In the pre-dawn light, she could just make out a large city where Ponyville had once stood.

            	“We’re keeping our distance, but be careful,” Cobalt called back.  “We’re far enough away that nopony should see us, but keep an eye out for random patrols, would you?”

            	“Yes, sir,” Rarity said, knowing the griffon probably wouldn’t hear her over the rushing wind.  She did her best to follow his request, but her eyes kept getting drawn back to the city at the foot of the mountain.  She’d heard a little bit about New Canterlot City, and most of what she’d heard both surprised and frightened her.

            	The ponies of Angel’s Rest, at least those she had spoken with, often spoke of New Canterlot City as the best and the worst that the Diarchy had to offer.  It was safer than out in the country, ponies had more freedom to choose their profession, and there was a degree of upward mobility that wasn’t possible out in the rigidly controlled farming villages.  At the same time, it was the center of Diarchy control and politics; the military was controlled from the City, and it was the headquarters of both the religious leadership (helmed by the ‘pontiff’, Rarity had been told) and the five Knight orders.

            	There was at least a small part of Rarity that wanted to see it someday, though she knew it would be impossible.  It might be the center of culture and society, but it was a society that was implicitly hostile to her.  She pushed it out of her mind, forcing her curiosity away for later.

            	After a while, the city had disappeared in the distance behind them, and the vast mountain was merely a speck on the horizon. With a small jolt and a few bumps, Terminus and Cobalt landed the chariot in the middle of a forest clearing.  Panting for breath, the two Knights shared a water canteen between them while they stretched out their sore muscles.

            	“Good flying, sir,” Terminus complimented, and the griffon nodded his thanks.

            	“Yes, I am quite impressed with the both of you,” Rarity said as she looked around their surroundings.  They had landed in a clearing within an evergreen forest.  The pine and spruce trees were thick around them, and the air was cold and crisp, and scented quite pleasantly with the smell of the trees.  Just behind some of the trees, out of eyesight, Rarity could hear the burble of a stream.  It seemed an ideal place for a camp.

            	“We’re only a few miles from the griffon border,” Cobalt explained, once he’d caught his breath a bit.  “Steadfast’s camp is just a few minutes’ flight to the east.  We’ll have to hide the chariot, and we can’t leave any trace of our being here.  We shouldn’t get spotted by scouts unless we’re careless.”

            	Rarity helped the other two push the chariot underneath some of the taller trees, and between the three of them they covered it in enough branches and leaves that it would not be visible from the air.  Then Terminus lifted his left hoof, complete with the odd contraption Rarity had heard described as a ‘rune gauntlet’, and began writing in the air with glowing, magical letters.  Rarity watched with fascination as he cast his spell; when it was complete, Terminus’ yellow armor changed colors entirely, becoming a mottled, varying pattern of drab greens and browns.  He cast the same for Cobalt, turning the griffon’s polished silver armor into a camouflage as well.

            	“That seems to be quite a useful spell,” Rarity said.  Terminus nodded.

            	“It is, but I’d rather conserve as many motes as possible,” he said.  “Batteries are scarce. I wish I didn’t have to cast at all, but we can’t risk being spotted.”

            	“Now you see why we insisted on your outfit,” Cobalt said wryly, and Rarity huffed.  The current incarnation of her ‘dangerous mission outfit’ was similarly colored to the illusion Cobalt and Terminus had on their armor.  It was frightfully dreadful; all those browns and greens were just begging for the right bright accent.  Yes, she realized that completely defeated the purpose of camouflage clothing, but it was almost physically painful for her to wear something designed not to be noticed.  It went against everything she stood for!

            	“If I’m supposed to be in charge here, why was I vetoed at nearly every turn?” she complained.  She wasn’t whining.  A lady didn’t whine.

            	“You know why, Miss Rarity,” Cobalt said politely.  “Your inventory list was simply a bit too… comprehensive.”

            	Despite her indignation, she knew a euphemism when she heard it.  She couldn’t help but laugh at the creative use of language.

            	“Irrational, you mean?  Or maybe bloated?” Rarity said wryly, earning a smirk from Cobalt.  She sighed dramatically.  “I realize I can get out of hoof sometimes with my packing.  I’m really quite better than I used to be.  And deep down I know you were all right.  But still, a lady needs to be able to make her displeasure known.”

            	“So you’re saying all those histrionics about not being allowed to bring an eyelash curler were just theatre?” Cobalt teased.

            	“Histrionics?” Rarity gasped.  “How rude!  And to think, I was just telling myself what a gentlecolt you are!”  A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, betraying her inner amusement, and Cobalt and Terminus both laughed.  “Now, how may I help set up camp?”

            	She was more than ready to use her telekinesis to set up the tent, but Terminus dismissed the idea.  It would be too shiny, too visible.  So she had to help by hoof, helping them to string up a tarp decorated with leaves, twigs, and other bits of foliage.  The tent was a simple lean-to, and Rarity realized they’d be resting on the dirt underneath the tent’s tarp.

            	“We’ll rest until nightfall,” Terminus said, and there was so much naked weariness in his voice that Rarity graciously chose not to complain about the resting accommodations.  Instead, she busied herself unpacking the necessary items for their plan from her saddlebags.

            	First came the uniform.  Rarity despaired at the slightly worn nature of the garment, though she saw the necessity.  A soldier in the field would not have a perfectly brand new marine uniform, fresh out of the packaging. Instead, her disguise was clean and well-maintained, like a good soldier’s garment, but it was also clearly used.  It even included a functional utility belt, complete with some handy little pouches and a sheathed utility knife.

            	Next came a small wooden case, lined with padded felt to keep the contents safe.  It contained four small vials, potions full of powerful zebra magic cooked up by Ninelives.  The first two potions would allow her to change her appearance into that of an earth pony, with a completely different fur and mane color, though the illusion would be broken the instant she was forced to use magic.

The third was what Heartwing had said was inaccurately called a ‘healing potion’, though he had claimed there wasn’t a better way to describe its effects.  “Drinking this will allow your body the equivalent of a full day’s worth of rest and relaxation,” he had said.  “The reagents to make them are almost prohibitively expensive, so save it for an emergency, hm?”

The fourth potion was more than a little bit scary.  “Be careful with this one, Rarity,” Ninelives had told her.  “You’re not a Knight.  You can’t keep up with them.  And you’re not trained in combat magic.  So you might need an edge.  This potion will speed up your reaction time, and help you ignore pain.  It’s useful, but very risky.  Pain slows you down, but it’s also your body’s way of announcing injury.  With this stuff in you, you won’t even realize if you’ve been shot, or stabbed, or had one of your legs chopped off.”  The strange zebra had laughed at that last bit, but Rarity had shivered with fear.  “It might help you keep up with a Knight if you get in a fight, though, so keep it handy.”

The third item in the saddlebags was a second case, though this one held fireworks rather than potions.  They were not the delightful celebratory fireworks that Rarity was familiar with, but something that Heartwing had referred to as ‘flashbangs’.  They would simply make an incredibly loud noise and flash blindingly bright, strobing for a few seconds. 

The last item in the saddlebags was a bandolier that Rarity had cobbled together to carry the potions and flashbangs.  She set it aside for now; she would be spending the next few hours resting on the dirt underneath a tarp, after all.

“Do you remember the plan?” Cobalt asked softly when the three of them were safely hidden under the tarp, and the chariot was pushed beneath some of the thicker trees.  Rarity nodded, trying not to sound impatient.

            	“Yes, I do,” she said.  “I helped make it, after all.”  She tossed her head proudly.  It had taken hours of conversation, but the fact that she’d helped come up with a plan that several more experienced military minds had approved of made her feel confident.  “We get close enough for me to cast my gem-finding spell, so I can get a general idea of where Steadfast’s tent is.  Assuming there really is an Element of Harmony there.  I drink the first disguise potion and, with my prodigious acting ability, sneak my way into camp posing as a marine courier with a message for Steadfast.”  Feeling just a touch silly, she performed the Diarchy marine salute that Terminus and Heartwing had drilled into her.  Cobalt nodded with approval.

            	“Meanwhile, Terminus will be watching me through the scope of his weapon, while you, in hiding, will be preparing to leap into action if I give the danger signal.”  The danger signal was red sparks fired from her horn, into the air.  She truly hoped it wouldn’t be needed; if the entire camp saw that she was a unicorn, things would go very poorly indeed.  “Terminus will only fire if I send up the signal, or if things look like they’ve gotten out of hand.”  She tried not to think about what that meant; Terminus firing without her giving the signal would probably mean she was unconscious or dead.

            	“Once I’ve found the Element of Harmony, I attempt to locate Emberglow.  I create a distraction and try to get in to see her alone.  Once I’m alone with her, I administer the healing potion.  If possible, she flies me out of camp.  If not, I put up the danger signal, and Terminus clears our path out of the camp.”

            	“Remember, the longer we go without discovery, the greater your chances are of getting into and out of the camp in one piece,” Cobalt advised, and Rarity nodded.  She remembered feeling the same way before some of the more momentous occasions in her life; a messy mix of adrenaline and excitement, anticipation and mortal terror, with a fair bit of reckless abandon mixed in. 

            	“Also, don’t forget to stretch right before,” Terminus said with a yawn.  He had already slumped into the dirt, uncaring of the dust being rubbed into his armor and his black coat.  “We’re not going to all this trouble just to have one of us fail because of a stupid cramp or sprain.”

            	“Yes, mother,” Cobalt snarked, and Terminus stuck his tongue out at the griffon.

            	“I just hope I don’t get all sweaty,” Rarity muttered.  “There won’t be much opportunity for a bath out here in ‘nature’.”  Cobalt and Terminus both stared at her.  Cobalt snickered, but Terminus shook his head.

            	“She’s kidding, right?” Cobalt asked.

            	“No, I think she’s serious.”

            	“Mock all you want,” Rarity said calmly.  “Cleanliness and relaxation are essential for military morale as well as civilian mental health, I’m sure.”

            	“You’re probably right,” Terminus laughed.  “And speaking of relaxation, we should be resting.”

            	“I’ll stay awake and watch,” Rarity offered graciously.  “After all, you two did all the hard work getting here.  Sleep.  I’ll wake you both at nightfall.”

            	Both Terminus and Cobalt took her up on her offer.  The two spread out on the ground with the casual ease of trained soldiers taking whatever rest they could find.  It was only moments before they were both breathing slowly, sleeping off their earlier exertion.

            	Having made the offer, though, Rarity soon regretted it.  She was left alone, with the two sleeping males, in a forest that was awake with sound and life.  She found herself growing more nervous with each sound, each animal cry, each snapping twig.  She did her best to keep her keen eyes on the forest outside the tent, but boredom and nerves were a dangerous mix, and she knew she was getting twitchy.

            	“Stretches.  That was Terminus’ recommendation,” she said softly to herself.  Rarity knew he had meant right before their mission, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep herself moving and limber now.  She cast her mind back to a yoga class she’d taken, now centuries ago, taught by the spa twins Aloe and Lotus.  Carefully, she went through the poses they had taught, gently stretching each limb and each muscle group.  It had just the effect she desired.

            	For the next few hours she practiced her yoga, gently letting out her nerves and her worries and her tension through proper stretching and meditation.  Her emotions were a mix of gratitude and grief for the girls who had taught her the techniques.  She wondered what had become of the spa twins.  She hoped they’d lived happy lives after she went missing.

            	Once she had entered into a calm, relaxed state of meditation and restfulness, the time passed quickly.  She took a break long enough to assemble a light lunch from the trail rations stowed away onboard the chariot.  Neither Terminus nor Cobalt woke up for the meal, so Rarity ate alone. 

            	It was about an hour before sunset when the other two woke up. There was something odd and impressive about the way two trained soldiers could instantly switch themselves from sleep to wakefulness, so much unlike her own habits.  Immediately Terminus took out his rifle, taking apart and reassembling the weapon, making sure it was ready for action.

            	“I’ll do some scouting,” Cobalt said.

            	“Be careful,” Terminus said, and Cobalt nodded.

            	“I won’t get too close.  Don’t worry, Terminus.  Nopony will see me.”  He flicked his tail and slipped out from underneath the tent tarp.

            	“I’ve noticed he treats you more like a friend than like a subordinate,” Rarity mused after Cobalt was gone.  Terminus nodded.

            	“The Knights Discordant has always been a loose sort of organization,” Terminus said.  “We’re more casual about rank and discipline.  It shouldn’t work.  Everything I know about military organization says that we should have a complete breakdown of morale and order, that the entire group should not function the way it does.”

            	Rarity tilted her head curiously. “You sound like you have a theory about that.”

            	“Well, you know more about what Heartwing was than I do,” Terminus said.  “Think about it.  Can you really see an incarnate god of chaos creating a stable, lasting, and well organized hierarchy?”  Rarity thought about it, and laughed at the idea.  Terminus grinned, and continued. “The Knights Discordant works, mostly because of the loyalty we all have for Heartwing.”

            	“Has there ever been any issues with you dating the boss?” Rarity asked.  Terminus smiled wryly.

            	“At times there’s been some tension.  It hasn’t been perfect,” Terminus said wistfully, with a dreamy sort of look in his eyes.  “But it has been wonderful.”  Rarity couldn’t help but giggle at the twitterpated look on his face.

            	A few minutes later, Cobalt flew back into their camp. “The camp is guarded well from the griffon side.  A little less strenuously from the Diarchy side,” he announced, taking the time to stretch out his wings after his flight.  

            	“Can you fly me to the griffon side?” Rarity asked thoughtfully, and Cobalt stared at her.  Rarity shrugged.  “My backstory makes much more sense if I approach from that side, even if it is more heavily guarded.”  Cobalt shrugged. 

            	“It would take a while, but I could get you there,” he said.  He glanced up at the sky.  “It’s overcast, so the night’s going to be starless.  My eyesight’s better than any pony’s, so I’ll be able to move in almost no light.”  He wasn’t boasting when he said it; Terminus was nodding alongside him.

            	The setting sun was lighting up the overcast clouds with orange and coral flames, and the light was fading fast.  The three ponies trotted to a section of hill that overlooked the camp below.  Once again Rarity felt that old familiar rush of adrenaline, the giddy and panicked anticipation of danger to follow.  The wind was blowing, and the skies were beginning to push darker, more threatening clouds directly over top of the Diarchy camp.

            	“What do you think, Terminus?” Cobalt asked.  “Rain?”

            	“Lots of it,” Terminus confirmed, spreading out his wings to feel the wind as he gazed up at the heavy clouds.  “It’ll probably start about a half hour after sundown.”

            	“Is that to our advantage, or against it?” Rarity asked.  Terminus shrugged.

            	“Both.  And neither.”  She gave him a look, and he sighed.  “Look, it’ll make things inconvenient for you trying to get around the camp, sure.  But it will make pursuit difficult.  It might make it easier to escape, if things go poorly.”

            	“Drat,” Rarity sighed.  “I was hoping this would be one of those adventures that didn’t end in messiness.”

            	“Heartwing wasn’t exaggerating in all those stories he told about you,” Terminus commented wryly, and Rarity eyed him.

            	“What sort of gossip was that rascal telling, hmm?” Rarity asked casually.  Terminus laughed.

            	“Nothing important,” he said casually, and Rarity huffed with annoyance.  “No really, Rarity.  He doesn’t speak poorly of his old friends.  Mostly with pride and fondness, and more than a little…” he trailed off, searching for the right word.

            	“Regret,” Cobalt finished, and Terminus nodded sadly.  “We should get into position.  It’s time.”

            	Rarity made one last check of her supplies while Terminus prepared their current location to be his sniper’s nest.  She quickly dressed in the slightly threadbare marine uniform, though she eyed the garment with some distaste.

            	“Good luck, my friends,” Terminus said, giving both of them a hug.  Rarity was surprised when the usually taciturn Cobalt returned the friendly gesture enthusiastically.

When Rarity was finally satisfied with her preparations, Cobalt gently lifted her, his clawed arms reaching under her fore hooves to lift her into the air.  It may have been an undignified carry, but Rarity could endure.  With a grunt of effort, he pumped his wings and lifted them both into the air.  Rarity tried not to look down.

            	“This is r-rather disconcerting in the d-dark,” she stammered.  Being able to see how high she was might be one thing.  In the shadows of post-sunset, now she couldn’t see anything below her.  Rarity had no idea how far it was to the ground, and that was somehow even more terrifying.

            	“Don’t be concerned.  I won’t drop you,” Cobalt said confidently.  His voice was comforting, and Rarity did her best to relax.  They flew for several minutes, before Cobalt finally announced their impending landing.

            	“We are now about a mile to the northeast of the camp,” he told her.  “Just to our south is the road that leads to the front of the griffon/pony border, and the larger Diarchy camps situated there.  You’ll look less suspicious if you get on that road and follow it.”

            	“Yes sir,” Rarity saluted, with a giddy sort of nervous anticipation in her voice.  Cobalt held out a claw for her to shake.

            	“Good luck, Rarity,” he said, and she shook with him.  “Remember the signal.”

            	“I won’t forget, Cobalt.  Good luck to you as well.”

            	Rarity took out the first of the transformation potion, removing the cork with her magic.  After eyeing the murky liquid for a moment, she tipped back the glass vial and swallowed the magical fluid as quickly as she could, expecting the taste to be something vile.  She was pleasantly surprised; it was an earthy flavor, slightly sweet, that reminded her of a lightly sugared red tea.

            	“As soon as you drink the potion, you’ll feel the magic in your head,” Ninelives’ instructions echoed in her memory.  “Fix your mind on what you want to look like.  In this case, an earth pony.  Keep the details as simple as possible.”  Rarity envisioned a black-furred earth pony with coral colored mane.  She kept the mane short, reminiscent of Rainbow Dash’s typically ‘artfully messy’ mane.  After a few seconds, she felt the magic wash over her.

            	“How do I look?” Rarity asked.  It wasn’t just an idle question; in the darkness, she would need his keen raptor’s vision to ensure that the potion had worked properly.  The potion had changed her voice, as well.  It was still just as musical as before, but had gotten just a touch higher, more soprano than alto.  She sounded a bit more like Fluttershy now, with no hint of her own affected Canterlot accent. 

            	“Like a perfectly normal earth pony.  No horn in sight,” Cobalt confirmed.  “You’re set to go.”  Even in the darkness, she could see a worried look passed over his face.  She paused, glancing back.

“Is everything okay?”

Cobalt sighed.  “Tell me…” he trailed off and looked away.  “Nevermind.”

“No, darling.  If you have concerns, I should hear them.”  He turned back to look at her.

“Tell me what he’s thinking, Rarity.” His eyes were intense and luminous in the darkness cast by the clouds.  She stared at him, wondering what he was talking about.  “Heartwing.  Why you?”

“Whatever do you mean, Cobalt?”

“You’re not enhanced.  You’re not trained like we are.  I know it’s a tiny camp, and there’s barely any soldiers.  Why you, and not me?  In a fair fight, I’m more than a match for most any Diarchy Knights.”

The question brought her up short.  She hadn’t even considered.

“Well, I am no stranger to dangerous situations, Cobalt.  And there is my gemfinding spell.”

“It has to be more than that.”  Cobalt sounded frustrated.  “There has to be something more.  Something I’m not seeing.”  He sighed.  “I’m sorry.  I really shouldn’t be bringing this up.  Heartwing’s instincts are almost always right.  Even when I don’t understand them.”

“‘Almost always’?” Rarity felt a pit of worry in her throat.

“I’ve worked with Heartwing for nearly fifteen years now,” Cobalt said.  “Sometimes his ideas make no sense at all.  But they usually work.  It’s like he’s got a sixth sense, or can see the future or something.  Or maybe he just wants to keep us all guessing.”

“That does seem in character,” Rarity muttered.

“The fact is, though, he’s not always right, and sometimes ponies get hurt,” Cobalt sighed.  “Don’t be one of them, Rarity.  Heartwing has perfect faith in you, and I believe in him.  But please don’t be the exception that proves the rule.”  He stared at her so intently that she had to look away from the intensity in his eyes.

          	“T-thank you, Cobalt.  Stay safe.”

            	“I never do, Miss Rarity,” the griffon smirked confidently, waving as she trotted south to the road.  “It’s not in my job description.  But take your own advice, will you?  And remember your flare.”

            	“Yes, sir!” Rarity gave a nervous little laugh as she left.  She felt a thrill of nervous fear at his concern, but she shoved it deep.  She knew she was going into danger, but she was also about to do something wonderful.  Something positive.  Something… heroic.  As a filly, she’d had dreams about being whisked away by knights in shining armor.  When she’d grown up, she had somewhat unhealthily transferred those dreams into romantic assumptions.  Now, she was going to be the one doing the rescuing, and it felt invigorating.

            	The road was only a short trot from where Cobalt had dropped her off.  She glanced behind her in the darkness, but of course he was already too far to be seen.  She reached clumsily with a hoof into the pouch of the uniform that contained a small flashlight; she would need it to find her way in the darkness.  Besides, a messenger approaching a friendly camp wouldn’t need to rely on darkness and stealth to sneak in, they would simply walk up the road in plain sight.  With a flick of the switch on the flashlight, she turned it on, sending the beam across the road in front of her.

            	The camp was up ahead, just beyond a bend in the road.  She tried to make her hoofsteps measured and calm, not allowing herself to grow too excited or anxious.  Soon enough, she saw the lights of the camp up ahead.  Lanterns and other lights poked their illumination through the trees, and the road and forest around her became slowly brighter.  With each step, the camp grew closer, and her nervous fear grew.

            	“Remember, Rarity,” she told herself.  “It’s just acting.  Just like being in a play.  You have a character to play.  You have a stage to shine on, and an audience that awaits your performance.  It wouldn’t be proper to disappoint your audience, would it?”  She knew the metaphor wasn’t perfect, but it helped to stave off the quiver that was growing in her knees.

            	Soon enough the camp sentries came into view, still a ways off but visible in the relatively bright lights of the camp.  Rarity approached boldly, trotting down the middle of the road as if she belonged there. She held her flashlight kept in her teeth, illuminating the ground below her hooves so she wouldn’t trip on some divot or obstacle hidden by the moonless night. After a moment she saw the sentries own lights ignite and point in her direction.  She had been spotted.  It was fine; that was part of the plan, after all.  She tried her best to walk with easy casualness.  When she was close enough, the sentries called out a challenge.

            	“You there!  State your name and business!”

            	“PFC Coral Song, sir!” Rarity called out.   “I’ve got a message from the griffon front, for Sir Steadfast.”  They had planned for her to speak with the leader of the expedition to make her story seem more believable, but hopefully she wouldn’t be trapped for long speaking with the Knight in question.

            	“Stay in the light and approach,” the sentry commanded.  Rarity did as instructed, following the road until she stood before the two earth pony sentries.  Once she was standing in front of them, she saluted, and they saluted back.  She noted the rank bars on the two earth ponies — privates.  

            	“Please wait here while we confirm your security clearance,” one of the soldiers said.

            	“I am not expected,” Rarity told them.  This was exactly what Top Brass had briefed her on.  “I have a priority two missive from Agent Hushkitty, from outside Griffonstone.”  Priority two would be enough to get his attention, but not so important that Steadfast would react too strongly.  Hushkitty was a Diarchy intelligence agent near Griffonstone, who wasn’t aware that the griffons had broken her cover and were aware of her presence.

            	“Very well.  I’ll inform Steadfast that you’re waiting here.”

            	“Thank you,” she replied, remembering at the last second not to call them sir.  Technically a PFC outranked a private, after all.  One of the two sentries rushed back into the camp, while the second, with an uncomfortable glance at ‘Coral’, awkwardly held out a canteen.

            	“Thirsty?” he asked, and she nodded gratefully.  A tired scout would be most happy to receive a drink.  She remembered to use her hoof to accept the offer, rather than her levitation magic — that would end this rescue mission very quickly.  She drank deeply from the canteen, surprised by how refreshing the lukewarm water was.

            	“Thanks.”  She handed the canteen back to him.  “So how’s this post?  I just came from the front.”

            	“Quiet, mostly,” the sentry said, shrugging and accepting the canteen. Rarity looked him over; He was a tall stallion; wiry, muscular, and probably far too young for the claw scars that dragged down his neck behind the collar of his uniform. “We saw a bit of action a few days back, but usually it’s just sitting and guarding the VIPs.”

            	“Action?” Rarity asked, though she had a good idea what he was talking about.

            	“Pretty crazy stuff,” the sentry said, with the air of a stallion that was trying to impress a pretty mare.  Rarity found it a little flattering.  “A heretic snuck into camp to attack Sir Steadfast.  She tried to escape, and we caught her in nets and chained her up.”

            	“A heretic?” Rarity’s heart pounded hard in her chest as she tried to sound suitably frightened.  It wasn’t hard.  “She’s still here?”

            	“Oh yeah.  She’s chained up in the tent right next to Steadfast’s command tent.” The sentry pointed to a small, burlap-colored tent which had been set up next to a larger lavender-colored tent.

            	Well, that part was easier than I expected. 

            	“That sounds crazy.”  She suppressed a shiver.  “Fighting a heretic…” She was sure to imbue her voice with all the nervous fear she felt, even if it wasn’t for the reason the sentries thought.  

            	“For sure,” the sentry said.  “Hey, when your stuff with the Knight is done, you should drop by the mess tent for a snack.” He looked her up and down.  “I’d like to get to know you better.  My name’s Beacon Torch, by the way.”

            	“We’ll have to see, Beacon.” Rarity made sure to inject just enough cautious interest to not raise any strong emotions in the stallion, though she did give him a winning smile.  The stallion grinned back.

            	A few seconds later, the sentry that had left earlier trotted up.  He handed a small badge to Rarity.

            	“Pin this to your uniform, PFC Coral Song.  You’re required to wear this clearance badge at all times while you are in this camp.  Please report directly to Sir Steadfast Word’s tent.”  He pointed with his hoof, even though Rarity already knew where the tent was.  She nodded and saluted, just as she was shown.

            	“I’ll try to drop by the mess later,” she said softly to Beacon, though she knew she had no intention of doing so.  With a final wave to the two sentries, she walked over to the command tent, pausing awkwardly at the flap.  Was she supposed to… knock?  With a shrug, she stepped through the flap.

            	Inside was a middle-aged stallion wearing purple armor, emblazoned with Twilight’s cutie mark.  He was currently writing a letter.  Rarity had to stop herself from glaring at the mark in fury; how dare these cretins disrespect the Princess so?  But the surge of anger was quickly followed by a thrill of fear; if the Knight saw her reaction, he could get suspicious.  Then this would all be over.  She forced her face back to professional neutrality.

            	“PFC Coral Song, reporting with a priority two missive from Agent Hushkitty, Griffonstone.”

            	“You may leave it on the desk,” Steadfast said absently.

            	“I’m sorry, sir, but I was ordered to memorize the missive verbally,” Rarity said.  

Steadfast finally looked up from his letter, his expression betraying his curiosity.  “Interesting.  Go ahead, scout.”

            	“Yes sir.  She told me to say, the chicken’s egg is exactly where you said it wouldn’t be, only buried.”  Rarity recited the code phrase Ninelives had given her.  She pretended to look confused, but didn’t ask what it meant.  A good soldier wouldn’t.  Steadfast’s eyes lit up with excitement.

            	“That’s the message?” he said with barely restrained enthusiasm.  “Soldier, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day.  Thank you.  Did Agent Hushkitty tell you to say anything else?  Or give you any other orders?”

            	“No sir.  I just have to report back to my Sergeant as soon as you release me.”

            	“Well, scout,” Steadfast smiled.  “I don’t release you until you’ve taken at least a day to rest.  Good work, soldier.”

            	“Thank you, sir!” she said enthusiastically.  The whole conversation was filling her with nervous dread; any moment she could say the wrong thing and out herself.  

            	“That pass of yours gives you access to our camp.  Do I need to have somepony show you where the mess hall is?”

            	“No, sir.  I can find it.”

            	“Good.  Speak with the mess officer, Porridge.  She’ll get you something to eat and show you where you can bunk down for the night.”  It was an obvious dismissal, and Rarity saluted with relief and left the tent.  Now came the hard part.

            	The rain had just started to drizzle down as she stepped into the night air.  With a start, Rarity raised a hoof to her mane in panic.  The rain would surely…

            	The thought brought her up short.  Of all the silly things to be worried about.  Besides, she thought as she bounced her now coral-colored curls, it wasn’t really her mane right now.  With a silly little silent laugh, she made her way towards the mess tent, while keeping an eye on the tent that housed Emberglow.  

Now she just had to find, or create, an opportunity to sneak into the tent.  There were two sentries standing guard in front of the tent as Rarity walked past.  They were standing firmly at attention, and their eyes darted to the pass she wore.  There was a brief pause where Rarity held her breath, but the sentries merely gave her a friendly nod. It was nice to know they had no reason to suspect her.

She deliberately walked behind the tent, ensuring she would be in the sentry’s blind spot on the far side of the tent.  She paused briefly, waiting for just a moment to see if anypony was paying attention. There were ponies within her line of sight, but nopony was paying attention to what she was doing.  The few ponies she could see were busy with their own tasks, doing camp chores or keeping watch in the direction of the griffon border.  

With one hoof, she shifted the edge of the tent.  It was staked down at regular intervals, too tightly to slip underneath, unless she managed to pull up one of the stakes.  It was an option, if she could manage it without being seen.  She’d remember that for later.  She continued on to the mess tent. 

            	The inside of the mess tent was a perfect example of everything Rarity disliked about military aesthetics.  It wasn’t that the inside of the tent was messy or disorganized; it was, in fact, a model of military precision and strict cleanliness.  The décor, on the other hand, was completely bland and unacceptable.  The canvas was olive drab, and the seating was rows of unadorned benches.  Even the ground was simply dirt packed by hundreds of hooves passing over.

            	This late at night, the mess was empty except for a single off-white colored mare, washing dishes in a tub underneath a pump-fed faucet.  The mare was young, and wore an apron stained with all sorts of colors of sauce.

            	“Help you, private?” she asked as she glanced at the rank insignia on Rarity’s disguise.

            	“I hope so.  I’m Coral Song.  I just came in with a message for Sir Steadfast, and he said I could drop in for a snack.  I’ve been galloping most of the evening, so I could use something to munch on.”  She tried to think of how Applejack or Pinkie Pie would use words; Rarity herself would have never said something so crass as ‘munch on’.

            	The mess officer stood and offered a hoof to shake. “Nice to meetchya, Coral.  I’m Porridge.  Don’t have much prepped right now, but I’ve got some leftover casserole if ya like.”

            	“Leftovers are fine,” Rarity said.  “Anything, really.  I’m runnin’ on empty.”  It honestly hurt, a little bit, to not be using proper diction.  Oh well.  The sacrifices one had to make for the stage, and all that.

            	“Well, sit down a tic, and I’ll be right back.  It’s kinda cold, but so’s the beer, so that’s okay, right?” Porridge laughed.

            	“Just water, please,” Rarity said.  She’d never quite enjoyed the flavor of beer, to be honest.  Who wanted to drink slightly bitter tasting bread?  She much preferred sophisticated drinks, like a nicely aged rose, or even a fancy cocktail.  Besides, she needed to be in full control of her senses for what lay ahead. “I’m still technically on duty until I report back to my sergeant.”

            	“One of those, eh?”  Porridge laughed, though not unkindly.  “Gotchya.  I’ll be right back with some eats and some water.”

            	Porridge exited the mess tent through a small flap on one canvas wall.  Rarity found a spot at one of the benches and sat, looking around the room for anything she could use.  A fire in the mess tent might provide a decent distraction, but Porridge had been nothing but friendly.  It seemed a shame to put the young mare in danger.  

Soon enough, Porridge came back with a tin cup and a plate full of cold casserole.  Rarity could see rice, mushrooms, green peppers, and celery.  The whole thing looked a bit like mush, and some of her skepticism must have shown on her face.  “Camp rations.  I miss real food.”  It seemed like something a soldier would say.

            	“Don’t look like much,” Porridge admitted.  “But that ain’t what counts, is it?”  She laughed, then went back to her task washing dishes.  “You enjoy, Coral.”

            	Rarity was glad Porridge wasn’t watching while she tried to eat; the act of manipulating a spoon with her hooves, instead of magic, was somewhat awkward.  Still, she managed to begin eating, realizing after a few bites just how hungry she’d been.  Porridge was correct; though the presentation and texture were a bit off, the casserole was flavorful and well-seasoned.  Rarity ate the whole bit as quickly as she could, washing it down with the cold water. 

            	“That was nice, thanks,” Rarity said when she was done.  Porridge nodded.  “Now, could you tell me where I could bunk down for a bit of shut-eye?”

            	“Don’t wanna try to make the trip back to your unit in the pitch black and rain, do ya?” Porridge said, nodding.  “Makes sense.  The Knights get messengers all the time, so we set up a tent with a couple bunks just for you types.  Lemme show ya.”

            	Rarity followed Porridge out of the mess tent towards a row of smaller tents.  On the way, she saw an odd sight through the darkness and the drizzling rain: a scaffolding, holding a wooden cage about eye level off the muddy ground.  Inside the cage were two figures, looking sodden and miserable in the growing damp.

            	“Who’s that?” Rarity asked.  “I heard about some dust-up with a heretic a few days back.”

            	“Nah, it’s not her,” Porridge said.  “That’s just some griffon spies we snagged yesterday.  Sir Brightblade’s gonna interrogate them as soon as he’s done with the heretic.  I didn’t tell you this,” Porridge’s voice dropped to a whisper.  “But I think that heretic’s a tough one to crack.  Sir Brightblade’s been looking angrier and angrier the last few times I’ve seen him.  I’d steer clear if I were you.”

            	“I’ve never met Sir Brightblade.  I only met the other Knight.  The one in charge.  Uh...”

            	“Probably Sir Steadfast, then.  He’s wonderful,” Porridge said, sounding sincere.  They paused in front of an empty tent.  The flap was pinned wide, and rarity could see the simple bunk inside.  “Here we are.  Nopony else is using it, so it’s all yours.  You’ll be here for breakfast, right?”

            	“I think so,” Rarity lied.  Not a chance, unless things went catastrophically wrong.  Seeing those two griffons, even from a distance, cramped into that far too small cage was making her blood boil.  Something demanded action.  Demanded response.  She would act tonight, and soon. 

            	“Well, sleep good, then,” Porridge said, and Rarity had to stop herself from correcting, or even cringing, at the massacre of grammar.  

The mess officer left her in peace, and Rarity laid herself out on the bunk, making sure to try and keep the scaffolding and cage in view from the opening of her tent.  She could just make it out in the darkness.

            	The rain dramatically increased in volume, suddenly pouring down on the camp in sheets.  Rarity heard a few yelps of surprise and shock, and she could see ponies rushing about, splashing muddy water as they tried to get under cover.  Rumbles of thunder sounded over the torrent of raindrops, filling the camp with noise.

Briefly, Rarity considered casting her gem-finding spell now.  She had one more disguise potion; she could quickly cast the spell, learn the location of Sir Steadfast’s hidden Element of Harmony, then drink the potion again.  Instinct told her to wait, however.  

            	After about ten minutes, there was barely anypony left outside.  She moved cautiously out of the tent, trying her best to ignore the sheets of water cascading down on her face, ruining her mane.  She hoped that when the illusion went away, the water in her coat and mane would as well, though she doubted it would.  Still, a mare could dream.

            	Rarity’s first stop was the scaffolding.  Growing closer to the two captive griffons, she could see more detail, and it sickened her.  The signs of torture and abuse were clear on the two pitiful creatures, with bruises, wounds, and missing feathers.  They glanced down at her with hopeless faces and eyes that simply waited for the next atrocity.  She stopped below the cage.

            	“Hello, can you understand me?” Rarity asked.  Both griffons cocked their heads.  One of them squawked at her, saying something in their native tongue that she didn’t understand.  Rarity glanced around for whatever kept the cage locked.  It was a padlock, looped around the door of the cage.  She didn’t have any sort of a key.  “Neither of you speak Equish?”

            	“Only Griffon,” the griffon hen said in heavily accented Equish.  “No pony language.”  The male simply shook his head.

            	“I’m going to let you out,” Rarity said, glancing to the left and right, looking for anypony that might be listening.  “Do you understand out?  Free?”  The griffons shook their heads again, and Rarity resisted the urge to sigh.  “Okay, Miss Coral Song.  Time to see how good your acting skills really are.”  

She pantomimed opening the cage.  They stared at her blankly.  She did it again, this time more slowly, and finally the griffon hen’s eyes lit up with understanding and she nodded.  Silently she spoke with her friend, who glanced between the hen and Rarity several times.  “When I let you free, I need you to wait ten minutes before you escape.”  Blank stares again.  Rarity sighed.  She was growing nervous.  Though most of the ponies had retreated from the pouring rain, she could be interrupted at any second.  

She began her pantomime again, but this time, after acting out opening the door, she held up a hoof, then began counting slowly in Equish.  After reaching ten, she pantomimed showing the door swinging open and pretending to escape out of it.

            	“I need you two to wait at least two minutes before you escape.” She tried to pantomime one hundred and twenty seconds, before sighing, giving up, and simply writing the number in the dirt.  She was only partly sure they got the gist of it, though the hen was nodding enthusiastically.  After a moment of thought, Rarity also passed over one of the flashbangs.

            	“Boom,” the hen said, taking the cylinder from Rarity.  Rarity almost laughed.  Of all the words in Equish, boom was one of the few this griffon knew?  She shook her head.

            	“No boom,” Rarity said.  It wasn’t a grenade, after all, merely a bright light and sound.  She pantomimed clenching her eyes shut, and covering her ears.  She repeated that action a few times, before the griffon nodded.  

The hen then began a pantomime of her own, pointing at the number written in the dirt and miming the passage of seconds with her clawed fingers.  Rarity nodded enthusiastically, and the griffon held out a hoof.  Rarity thought it was to shake, but was shocked when the griffon pulled the hoof closer to her beak and gave her a gentle kiss on the hoof.  She said something in her own language that Rarity was sure was an expression of gratitude.

            	“Very well then.  I really hope this doesn’t get me killed,” she whispered to herself.  She found the largest rock she could on the ground, and, suppressing her need to gag at the slimy mud she had to wipe off of it, she lifted the rock above the padlock and waited.  There was a flash of lightning, and she brought down the rock, as hard as she could, against the padlock with a mighty clang.  

“Oh, I do wish Applejack were here,” she muttered as she inspected the padlock.  It was bent, the keyhole slightly out of shape, but it hadn’t sprung open.  She waited impatiently for the next flash of lightning, trying not to get distracted by the griffons’ fearful fidgeting.

            	The air lit up again, and she brought the rock down a second time.  The padlock held, but it was clearly bent and twisted now, and when the griffon hen rattled it, Rarity could hear some of the inner mechanisms shaking around, loose.  The hen let out a moan of frustration.

            	“I’m trying, darling,” she said softly.  Though they didn’t understand each other, they shared a significant glance.  Rarity wasn’t sure if it was tears or rain in the hen’s eyes.  

Finally, the sky lit up again, and she brought the rock down one last time.  With a mighty jerk that set the whole cage rocking, the padlock finally broke free and tumbled to the mud.  

The hen quickly seized the door, holding it in place, though she couldn’t help but test to make sure it was open.  She nodded at Rarity, pointing one more time to the place where she’d scratched the numbers one hundred and twenty into the side of the cage.  Rarity nodded back.  

The griffon held up one claw, then two.  She was counting.  Rarity smiled one last time, then ran off towards the tent where Emberglow was supposedly being held.

            	When she reached the blind spot behind the tent, she could hear grunts of pain and the swish of air as something thick and heavy was swung, followed by thick, meaty thuds of impact.  There was somepony else in the tent. She cursed under her breath.

            	“Sir Steadfast’s quite upset with you,” she could hear a stallion say from inside the tent.  The voice was grating, filled with a sort of righteous fervor that made Rarity’s flesh crawl with discomfort.  “He tells me you insist on denying what he already knows.  I thought you were friends.”  There was another rush of air, an impact, and a whimpering sob.  “Honestly, I don’t understand why you’re holding out.  The faster he gets done with you, the sooner I can end all of this.  Don’t you want to feel the rope?  Let all the pain go away?  It’s pretty quick; just a long drop and a sudden stop, as they say.  Then it’s all over.”

            	Rarity tried her best to ignore the conversation, but her best wasn’t good enough, this time.  Something in the voice made her sick to her stomach, and she had to actively suppress the urge to vomit.  As silently as she could, she found the stake she would need to pull up in order to slip into the back of the tent.  With the canvas walls of the tent shaking from the wind and the rain, hopefully nopony inside would notice what she was doing.  She grasped the stake as best she could in her hooves and tried to yank.  Nothing.  The stake wiggled a bit, but it didn’t budge.  Rarity said something unladylike under her breath.

            	“Secretly, though?” the stallion on the inside continued.  “I hope you don’t say anything to Steadfast.  After all the time I spent hating you in Manehatten, I’m really enjoying being right.  You really are a wicked…” He grunted with effort, and Rarity heard another impact and pained sob. “Wicked…” A second impact. “Heretic.”  He finished with a third, and there was a slump of something hitting the ground.  “Wow, Emberglow.  Unconscious already?  Weak.”  Rarity heard the stallion spit with contempt.

            	Suddenly the ground was rocked by a huge explosion.  The sound was deafening, so much more than a lightning strike.  Rarity jumped a little at the noise.

            	“What was that?” the voice inside the tent demanded.

            	“Don’t know, sir.  Would you like us to check it out?”  It was a second voice.

            	“Come with me, that sounded like it came from the armory.  I’m done here for a while, she’ll be out for a few minutes anyways.”

            	“Yes, sir,” the second voice replied.  Rarity waited for a count of ten, hearing the sounds of the tent flap moving, before pulling out the utility knife from her belt.  She didn’t have time to be sneaky much longer.  With a quick slash, she made a long gash in the side of the tent, fumbling with her hooves to pull the opening aside and step into the tent.

            	Inside, the foul smells of sweat and blood assaulted her nose.  She did her best to ignore it, glancing around the tent.  It was nearly pitch black; the torturer had apparently taken his light source with him.  Her heart pounded as she lit her horn, her disguise illusion slipping off her like water.  While it was nice to be back in her old shape, she was somewhat disappointed to realize that the soaking she’d gotten from the rain remained.

            	The sight that lay before her, softly illuminated by the dim blue light of her horn, broke Rarity’s heart.  Emberglow, that sweet, confused Knight that had helped rescue her from that cave, was slumped on the dirt floor of the tent, broken and unconscious.  Cruelly tight manacles held her four hooves, another binding went across her wings, and yet another encircled her neck.  

She quickly looked about the room for something she could use to break the bindings. A small table on one end of the tent contained various torture devices and tools, and she trotted over to see if there was anything on it she could use.  Thankfully, there was also a key ring with three keys.  Quickly, Rarity levitated the keys over to Emberglow, and began frantically trying them out in the various locks to her shackles.

            	“I’ll get you out of here, darling,” Rarity whispered to the unconscious mare. “This time I’ll be the one saving a Knight in shining armor.”
> Chapter 30
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 30


Select entries curated from the journal of Steadfast Word, spanning from 1098 AF to 1112 AF



1098 AF

i killed her i killed her saints it was me i did it oh saints oh saints Peridot

i didnt mean it i didn’t mean to it was a mistake im sorry so sorry

1098 AF

I don’t know why I decided to start writing this.  And while drunk, even.  For me, keeping a journal is a danger I can hardly afford.  Much like alcohol.  

My wife, Peridot Shine, is dead.  Officially, at her own hoof, though I was holding the spear she threw herself on.

But it was my choice to cut her down, for her sins.

I have to wonder how long she suspected that the foal she carried was tainted.  It had to have been months.  It burns me to know that she hid her preparations from me.  That, in secret, she made her own treasonous arrangement that allowed her to smuggle the foal away from the city.  

I hate her.  I hate that she’s making me clean up our mess all alone.  That she made it harder.

Lady Twilight forgive me, but I don’t want to keep going.

1099 AF

I don’t know where to start.

Apparently, if I’m willing to kill my own wife for heresy, it means I’m trustworthy enough to take on more responsibilities.  I’m being considered for the position of High Inquisitor.

The training started five months ago.  Or, should I say, the inoculation.  They think that by slowly  exposing inquisitors to the most dangerous of ideas, it will soften the blow.

It must work.  None of the other inquisitors being considered for promotion with me have run for the heretics yet, after all. Especially not me.  Somehow, I saw this coming.  I always thought I had integrity.  But instead I sat there silently as I learned the true stories.

That Twilight Sparkle was a unicorn.  Rarity as well.  That none of them were divine.  That the real records are nothing like the Book.

Oh, it’s not put that way in the training.  They use euphemism.  Fancy language.  Apologetics.  I could taste bile the entire time.

I wonder if this is how the Angelics felt before they ran like cowards?

1099 AF

As part of the training, they took me to see the machine.  I understand now.  Even if it’s all built on a bed of lies, I understand.

The Hall of the Machine is vast.  The machine itself fills the entire Hall, with only a small walkway for ponies to come and stand below the monstrous mass of metal plate and twisted, iron bars. The runes carved into each surface glow with enough cold blue light to fill the room with a baleful glow.

I love to come sit and read in the light.  Not because it’s peaceful, but because it is not.  I can feel the malevolence of the machine, the hatred and hunger of whatever is bound inside.  It seeps into me.  After a few hours I can hear the whispers.

I come here because it helps me remember why the world needs the Mystics.

I did as much research as I could into the machine.  Of course, everything that’s written is some of the closest held secrets of the Mystics.  Protecting the machine is one of our most sacred charges, after all.

There’s one text that survives from the actual construction of the machine, a journal written by somepony called ‘The Creator’.  This Creator doesn’t write much about himself, but he does write about the importance of the machine.  How everything comes crashing down if it were to be destroyed.  If the things trapped inside ever got out.

The Creator is very vague in his writing, but he implies that our faithfulness to the Diarchs, and to the Saints, are the only thing keeping the machine from failing, and unleashing the horrors it binds into the world.

Sitting beneath this monstrosity, I believe him.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow, that the only thing keeping these horrors from being unleashed on the innocent ponies around us is a tapestry of fiction and exaggeration.  Coming here to read helps to remind me of what’s at stake if we fail.

1106 AF

I’ve been thinking and praying to determine how Lady Twilight would like me to proceed.  No inspiration has come when I meditate in the Cathedrals, but in the Hall of the Machine, I am filled with ideas.

Even writing this down, I shiver with fear.  I know that something within the machine seeks to warp me.  To twist me to its will.  I must resist.

But as it manipulates me, I learn more about it.  About its malevolence, and its hunger.  And the more I know, the better I can resist.

I’m becoming increasingly convinced that the machine’s failure is inevitable.  That the only way to fight back is to have the entire Diarchy united in renewed faith and dedication.  Each pony needs to hunger for faith and righteousness, just as the thing (things?) inside the machine hungers for disharmony.

But right now, the Diarchy is far from ready.

I just had the loveliest conversation with a brilliant young pony, a genius filly named Emberglow.  She approached me to be sponsored for Knighthood.  In a perfect Diarchy, she wouldn’t have even needed to ask.  A perfect Diarchy would funnel ponies like Emberglow into the Knighthood and leave those vapid, idiotic noblepony’s foals out in the cold.  It makes me burn to think of all of the Emberglows out there who could have been filling our ranks.  Instead we get mostly Canterlot nobles, with a few true gems slipping through.

1109 AF

My meetings with Emberglow are the highlight of every week.  She’s so eager to tell me about everything she’s learning, about all of her progress.   On the surface, it looks like things are going perfectly.

They’re not, of course.  I know how the Ivy Seminary works.  But I’ll wait until she’s ready to tell me what’s happening.

She’s so strong, and so bright.  Looking into her earnest, eager eyes just fills me with so much hope.  If only more ponies could be like her.

Every time we speak, I make a bit of a show of convincing her to join the Mystics.  It would be nice, but in the end it doesn’t matter if she’s a Mystic or a Radiant.  Whatever Order she joins, the entire Knighthood will be brightened by her presence.

Is it ridiculous to write that I wonder what my own filly would have been like, if she hadn’t been a unicorn? Would she have been like Emberglow?  She would only be a few years younger, now.  Maybe about twelve.

1113 AF, Camp Borealis, Griffon Border

            	Consciousness came like an unwelcome guest.  

Emberglow tried to open her eyes, but one of them was swollen shut. She couldn’t see anything in the darkness of the tent anyway, but she could feel heavy metal chains around her hooves and constricting her wings, binding her to the ground. She stung where the shackles chafed against her fur. 

Her legs and back ached from the awkward position she’d been crouched in.     Her wings, in particular, burned with a fierceness that made her feel like she would never fly again.  She would have cried, but her dizzy vision and parched throat told her she was probably too dehydrated for tears. She had long since run out of tears anyway.

She just wanted to be asleep again.  Unconscious.  When she was awake, every new sensation brought pain and fear.  She tried to will herself back to sleep; at least in her nightmares, all she had to deal with were a pair of sparkling green eyes, slowly fading as the life slipped out of them.

            	Faintly, she heard a muffled voice speak. “Emberglow?  Emberglow, dear, I need you to wake up.”

            	The voice was vaguely familiar.  Probably one of the soldiers who fed her on occasion.   She tried to shy away from the hoofsteps, a knee-jerk reaction halted by the cruel shackles that bound her.  

“Hold still, please.”  That was wrong.  Even though the soldiers who fed her never joined Brightblade in her beatings, they still never said please.  It was enough to get her to pause, trying to get a glimpse of the newcomer. It was difficult to see, though, and there was a throbbing pain in her eyes. Brightblade had begun specifically targeting her face in some of his recent beatings, and often her eyes would hurt too much to even open afterwards.  

She heard the rattle of metal on metal, and a sharp pain in one of her hooves.  Then she felt the same in another.  Emberglow managed to slip one eye open just enough to see that the shackles had been removed from her two front hooves.  Another sharp pain, and a third shackle was removed.

            	“W-what?” she gasped.

            	“Emberglow, you’re awake!” the voice said, sounding relieved.  Somepony moved in front of her.  White fur, violet mane, soaked and dripping rainwater.

            	“R-rarity?” she rasped, her throat scratchy and sore.  “Am I dead?” The question was plaintive.  “Did I do good?  Die well?  I must have, if I’m seeing you.”

            	“While I quite appreciate the compliment, darling, I don’t have too much time to explain.  Please, drink this.”

            	Something was pressed to her lips; a bottle of some sort, glowing slightly blue.  She didn’t think about it, her mind foggy as she dumbly followed the request to drink.  She could just taste the sharp bite of alcohol. The more she drank, however, the better she felt.  Pain faded into a dull hint of what it had been before.  Her swollen eye still throbbed, but she could open it.  The pain radiating through her legs and her barrel faded to a numb ache, and she found her thoughts growing clearer.  She tried to stand, only to hiss in pain.

            	“Please, hold still.”  Rarity’s voice was gentle, but there was a bite of anger underneath her tone when she spoke again.  “Look what they’ve done to you, you poor thing.  Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of these chains as soon as I can.”  There was a click, and Emberglow felt the shackle around her barrel come loose.  Her wings fell limply to her sides, and Rarity gasped in horror.  “Those… those vile creatures!”

            	“C-can’t be real.”  Emberglow almost shook her head, but stopped herself just in time.  She swept her gaze up Rarity’s soaked form, noting her clothing.  “M-marine uniform. Why…?”

            	“How else was I supposed to sneak in and rescue you?” Rarity said with a smirk, though it looked slightly forced.

            	Her eyes darted to Rarity’s horn.  It was still there.  It was glowing blue while Rarity was using some sort of spell.  Emberglow tried to crane her head to look.

            	“Zebra disguise potion,” Rarity said.  “And stop moving your head, please.  I’ve almost got your neck shackles free.”

            	Realizing she was still a bit dazed from what was happening, Emberglow did her best to hold as still as possible.  A few seconds of concentrated muttering from Rarity followed before, with a metallic clink, the wide metal collar from around her neck sprung free.  Emberglow rubbed at the sore spot, and Rarity cooed in sympathy.

            	“Oh, that must have been so uncomfortable,” she said.  “It’s put your coat in such a state. I’m so sorry you had to go through… all that.”

            	Emberglow was still trying to catch up.  “You’re here.  R-right here.  Now.”

            	“In the flesh, darling.  Here to rescue you.”  Rarity sounded quite proud as she said it.  Emberglow stared at her, the words taking time to sink in.

            	“W-why?” Emberglow stammered.

            	“Maybe I just wanted to return the favor.” Rarity smiled. “You woke me up while I was in that cave, after all.”  She shook her head.  “Really, though, we don’t have time.  Are you good to walk?” 

            	“Walk?” Emberglow blinked a few times.  She couldn’t focus her eyes on anything.  The potion Rarity had made her drink was helping, but her mind was still a fog.  Slowly, she realized what Rarity had asked, and flexed her hooves, trying to hold her weight.  It took a few breaths, but she was able to rise to her hooves.  She glanced at Rarity, watching the other mare’s eyes flare in indignant fury as she looked over Emberglow’s injuries.  “I...I can walk.”  She hoped she sounded more sure than she felt.

            	“Good.  I’ll need you to stay as close to me as possible.  Things might get dangerous, but we still have something we have to accomplish.”  Her horn flared brightly, and Rarity’s eyes narrowed in concentration.  Slowly her head turned towards the west.

            	“West.”  Rarity nodded confidently.  “That’s where the command tent was.”

            	“What…”

            	“I just cast a gemfinding spell.  Magic was never my special talent, but this is the spell that earned me my cutie mark.  There’s a powerful magical gem in the command tent.”

            	Emberglow remembered the glow that had come from inside the small chest during her confrontation with Steadfast.  She remembered the way it had reacted when they spoke, the way it glowed.  It was hard to think about what that might have meant; she was still having some trouble accepting everything that was happening.  “I… I think I saw something there.”

            	“Follow me, then,” Rarity stepped over to the slit she’d cut in the tent, before hesitating.  She reached into a bandolier attached to her uniform and pulled out a vial.  “One moment, darling.”  She popped the cork on the vial and quickly drank the contents, before placing the empty vial back in her bandolier.  

Emberglow stared in awe as Rarity changed before her eyes.  Her mane shifted color, becoming an orange pink, while her coat darkened until it was completely black.  “This should hide my horn, and in the chaos I’ve arranged, hopefully we won’t have any challenges I can’t smooth-talk my way out of.”

            	The two of them stepped out of the tent into the pouring rain.  Emberglow limped, trying to favor her right hoof; a sharp twinge of pain shot up her side every time she stepped on her left.  She struggled to get out of the tent, maneuvering her stiff and wounded limbs with difficulty.

When she finally managed to get out of the tent, the cool rain felt soothing and cleansing. It had been weeks since she’d had a bath, and the rain washed away at least a little of the exhaustion she felt.  She didn’t even resist the urge to stick out her tongue and let some of the cool drops trickle into her mouth. 

“Stretch your wings,” Rarity said.  “If somepony comes to fight, fly if you can.”

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Emberglow said, though she stretched her wings as requested.  They were stiff, the feathers bent and broken, and it hurt to extend them. 

The two of them moved to the back of the command tent, and Rarity pulled out a small utility knife.  She paused for a moment, putting her ear to the tent wall.  After a few seconds, Rarity gave a satisfied nod and jabbed the knife into the purple canvas.

“It’s nothing more than you deserve, misusing Princess Twilight’s colors and mark like that,” Rarity grumbled as the knife sawed through the canvas.

“Are you… chastising a tent?” Emberglow asked, and Rarity colored slightly.

“Yes, darling, but the tent earned it,” she said.  Once the hole was large enough, the two stepped inside the darkened tent.

“Do you know where Sir Steadfast is?” Emberglow whispered.  The last thing she wanted was to see her old mentor again.

“Not here,” Rarity remarked.  “Hopefully it will stay that way.  Now, you said you might know where the gem is?”

“Steadfast was here.  He and I…” In her head, she could still hear his words.  His pleas and accusations.  She shook her head, glancing around the tent.  She glanced around the dark tent.  “It’s too dark.”

“I’d prefer not to light my horn just yet,” Rarity said.  “I’ll lose the disguise if I do, and I’d rather not unless I have to.  Can we find… aha!”  The room suddenly filled with yellow light.  She had discovered a small electric lamp, it seemed.  “Now I’m sure somepony will notice the light in here.  We have to hurry.”

“There.” Emberglow pointed, noticing the small chest she’d seen earlier.  Rarity snatched up the box and reached inside, pulling out a polished golden torque. The centerpiece was an orange gem, shaped like an apple.  Rarity held it up with a hoof, her eyes narrowing.

“Is something wrong?” Emberglow’s voice was low, her eyes darting between the tent’s opening and the gem in Rarity’s hoof.  “T-that’s what you came for.”

“I came for you, Emberglow.  The gem is less important than the pony.”  Rarity sighed, letting her hoof drop.  “It’s a fake, anyways.”

“Fake?”  Emberglow   “B-but your spell…”

“Wasn’t wrong,” Rarity said with a firm nod, and a glance around the room.  “There’s an Element somewhere in this camp, and my spell picked it up.  This gaudy fake” — she tossed the piece of jewelry back into the box it had come from — ”is little more than costume jewelry.”

“What do we do?”  Even she could hear the dejection in her own voice, but Rarity glanced in her direction with a confident smile.

“A missing gem?  I might have a few ideas,” Rarity smirked.  “But first we need to get you to safety. The gem can come later.  Let’s go.”  With that, the two ponies slipped outside the slit Rarity had cut in the tent.

Outside the camp was still dark, but Emberglow could see a great fire burning to the southwest, inside the boundaries of the camp.  Several ponies ran about, mostly marines in various stages of undress, having had their rest interrupted.  There was very little discipline, but Emberglow could hear the sounds of shouting orders as various marine officers tried to reign in the chaos.

“Hold a moment, please,” came a soft voice behind them that sent a chill up Emberglow’s spine.  

She spread her wings in an instant, preparing to leap into the air.  Her wings, however, didn’t want to cooperate, and they spasmed with agony as she tried to extend them.  Her injuries, while partially healed, were not yet going to allow flight.  With dread, she glanced behind her at her former mentor.

She hadn’t seen him since their argument, before her capture.  Before he’d ordered her torture.  With wooden steps, she tried to move between him and Rarity, but blessedly, she stopped Emberglow with a hoof.

“I don’t know who you really are, Miss Coral Song, but that’s a very important prisoner you’ve set free.  I will have to ask you to surrender.” Steadfast leveled a spear at the two of them.  

Rarity moved so that she stood between the two, though Emberglow tried to protest.  She knew, from the way her muscles were still stiff and hurting, that she would be mostly useless in a fight.

“Please, don’t,” Emberglow whispered to Rarity.  “He’s trained his whole life fighting—” She cut off before she blew Rarity’s secret, though she was fairly sure it didn’t matter any longer.

“Fighting what, Miss Emberglow?” Steadfast stepped towards them, his spear still leveled.  “Heretics?  Knights?  Unicorns?”  He lifted a hoof and began casting runes.  Emberglow shrieked a warning.

“It’s a counterspell!” she cried.  Rarity nodded, and pointed her muzzle to the sky.  Suddenly the illusion faded, and Rarity’s horn shone brightly with soft blue light.  With a grunt of effort, Rarity fired a blast of red sparks into the sky, high above them.

“You’ve—“ Emberglow began.  Rarity held out a hoof.

“I don’t know who you are, not really,” Rarity said, her nose turned in the air.  “But the accommodations in this camp leave much to be desired.  The food wasn’t terrible, I suppose, but the state of my friend’s room was completely unacceptable.  I shall be speaking with your supervisor and demand a full accounting.”  Sir Steadfast gaped at her, and Emberglow stared with disbelief.  With a stomp of her hoof for emphasis, and a nod, Rarity eyed Emberglow, and whispered, “Run!”

Emberglow needed no more encouragement.  With aching muscles, she began limping as quickly as she could through the wet mud.  Rarity was right behind her, her hoof finding Emberglow’s withers as she tried to guide her along.  

Steadfast’s surprise only lasted a split second before he began after them, shouting for help.  At this pace, there was no chance they could get away from the veteran Mystic, let alone everyone in the camp.  Emberglow wished for a weapon.

“We can’t… outrun him!” Emberglow gasped, her body screaming in protest at the movement.  Her ribs, in particular, sent stabbing tears of agony through her barrel.  One of them felt broken.  She struggled to breathe and choked back a whimper of pain.

“We don’t have to,” Rarity grunted.  “Did you really think I would come alone?”  She said the last part loud enough that their pursuer could hear, and Steadfast hesitated his pursuit just long enough to glance around.  It perhaps saved his life; there was a sudden zipping sound and a crash of impact as a large caliber round exploded in the mud just where Steadfast would have stepped if he hadn’t paused. 

“Camp is under attack!” Steadfast shouted loudly from behind them, quickly casting a shield spell on himself.  “To arms!  Foes within and without!  Brightblade, Swiftstrike, to me!  Our prisoner is escaping!”

“We can’t face three of them!” Emberglow gasped.

“Just keep running!” Rarity grunted.  “Help is not far!”  As if to prove her point, a shower of sparks and smoke exploded against Steadfast’s shield.  He swore, but didn’t slow down.

They sprinted through the tents, spraying muddy rainwater into the air with their pounding hooves.  They tried to stay low, but Rarity’s horn finally began drawing the attention of the marines.  Emberglow saw at least five ponies bearing down on them from between the tents.  Several had drawn spears.

When Emberglow finally saw Brightblade among her adversaries, a shudder of fear nearly froze her in her tracks. Her injuries suddenly seemed to flare up with pain just at the sight of him. The Knight Mystic had a scowl of hatred burned onto his muzzle.

“You will not escape justice, heretic!” he shouted, pointing his own spear at Emberglow and Rarity.  With the soldiers surrounding them, and Steadfast bringing up the rear, the two mares were forced to stop running.

“Shield spell, Brightblade!  They have a sharpshooter!” Steadfast shouted, and Brightblade wove his hoof through the air.  A marine fell in the dirt with a grunt as another bullet roared through the camp.

“What do we—“ Emberglow gasped.  Rarity was glancing about frantically.

“Surrender, unicorn,” Steadfast said.  “We have…” he trailed off, narrowing his eyes.  “Wait.”



“Recognized me, did you?” Rarity asked.  “Say my name, Knight.”

“It’s a trick.  It can’t be,” Steadfast said with disbelief.  Rarity’s smile was grim.

Emberglow watched as each of the other marines seemed to recognize who they were facing.  Even over the pounding of the rain and the background chaos of the camp, she could hear murmurs of disbelief and doubt.  Some even lowered their weapons as they gaped at the familiar figure before them, and many eyes were locked on her horn.

“Don’t deny the evidence of your eyes, sir Knight,” Rarity said.  “There are no tricks here.  Except for the one in your tent, hm?”  Before he could react, her horn lit up again.  An orange glow emanated from a small saddlebag Steadfast wore.  “You have something that belongs to me.  Or, perhaps, to one of my friends.  I’d like it back.”

“You can’t be her.” Steadfast shook his head.  Brightblade looked between his mentor and Rarity, and his own eyes went wide as well.

“Trickster!  How dare you take her form!” he cried with rage.  He lunged at Rarity, spear first.  Rarity’s horn glowed to cast some sort of spell to defend herself, but Emberglow dashed in front of her.  Whatever else happened, this world needed Rarity.  Emberglow would protect her with her life, if she had to.

Brightblade vanished in a flash of silver, and a griffon floated in place where he had just been, a drawn sword in each claw.  Emberglow blinked.  She’d seen this griffon before; he’d fought against her and Brightblade in Manehatten.  Brightblade grunted as he rose from the dirt; the griffon snapped forward with a screeching war cry.  Two blades fell; the first drove Brightblade back into the mud.  The second slipped through his armor to bite into the muscle beneath.  Brightblade hissed with pain and spun, throwing the griffon off as the two spun to face each other.

“Cobalt, darling?  Steadfast has the Element in his saddlebag.  Do be careful, will you?”  The griffon gave the tiniest of nods, and Rarity lowered her head next to Emberglow’s.  “Cover your eyes,” she whispered, and Emberglow had seconds to see Rarity pull out a small cylinder with her magic.  The device dropped to the mud just in front of Steadfast, who backed away a step while keeping his eyes on it.  

Emberglow had only an instant to do as she was instructed before the weapon exploded with a deafening bang, and a flash of light that was blinding even with her eyes closed.  Steadfast and several marines screamed in pain, and Rarity was already tugging Emberglow along.  

Brightblade was blinking wildly, flailing about blindly with his spear.  The griffon knocked the spear aside, and with a flick of his claw and a flash of metal, struck at Brightblade’s face. The tip of the blade bit into Brightblade’s cheek, dragging upwards through his eye before deflecting off bone and bouncing away.  Brightblade fell back with a shriek of pain and fury, clutching at his bleeding eye with one hoof. 

In the confusion, Emberglow saw Rarity glance behind them, over her shoulder, her horn lighting for only a moment.  A loud snap broke through the chaos, and she saw Steadfast’s saddlebags slip off his back, the strap cut.  Cobalt swooped over and snagged the bag in his claws.

“Go!” Cobalt shouted over the incoming rifle fire.  More and more marines were taking cover from the sniper’s deadly rain, crouching behind tents and ignoring the Knights and their battle.

“Get up!  Stop them!” Brightblade shrieked.  He waved a hoof frantically in their direction, and blinded marines fumbled with their weapons, casting about for their quarry.

“Horn off, Rarity.  Heads down and run,” Cobalt ordered, and Rarity’s horn light faded.  Emberglow ran blind, the night illuminated only by the dancing  light of the distant bonfire.  “What did you do to create that distraction?”

“Let some prisoners loose,” Rarity panted.  Gunfire erupted from behind them, and Emberglow spared a glance. Three marines had managed to find their hooves and were right on their tails.  Without glancing back, Cobalt tossed an explosive of his own over his shoulder.  The pursuing soldiers saw it just in time to dive aside,   A loud explosion ripped through the air, spraying dirt and mud everywhere.

Finally, they reached the barbed wire fence which bordered the camp. It wasn’t too high; it was mostly just to keep out ground-based creatures.  Cobalt flew over to scoop up Rarity.

“Can you make it over?” she asked Emberglow.  She did her best to extend her wings, groaning in pain as she tried to move them.  It was clear flight would be impossible, but she tried to force them open.

“Allow me, darling,” Rarity said, lighting her horn again.  Emberglow yelped as she was lifted off the ground, up and over the barrier. She couldn’t help but flail her hooves about in panic before Rarity set her back down.  Cobalt landed on the ground next to her, and the three sprinted off through the trees to the sounds of pursuit and gunfire.

“I’m going to go help Terminus,” he said.  “Wait five minutes, then send up sparks again.”

“Good luck,” Rarity called out, breathing heavily.  She levitated a potion out of her bandolier and squinted at it.

“What’s that?” Emberglow panted, her legs shaking with exhaustion.

“A zebra potion.  Dangerous magic, but it might help you.” Rarity sounded unsure.  She floated it over to Emberglow as she ran.  “It will turn off your body’s ability to feel pain, I was told.  Maybe...”

“That is dangerous,” Emberglow breathed, with a sudden thrill of fear.  She barely hesitated, though, to snatch the potion out of midair and down it in a single gulp.

“But you just said…” Rarity stammered.  “I-I was only suggesting, I didn’t mean for you to…”

“I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt rescuing me, and we’re not going to fail just because I can’t run,” Emberglow said.  She felt the magic start to take effect, numbness oozing along her muscles and veins.  She felt her aches and pains disappearing, and she picked up her pace. Suddenly, it was Rarity who was struggling to keep up, and  Emberglow had to slow down to not leave the unicorn in her dust.

They wove through the trees, dodging and weaving as bullets struck the trees around them.

“Do you know any shielding spells?” Emberglow asked.  Rarity shook her head.

“Never…cast much… more than levitation and… gemfinding,” Rarity panted, nearly out of breath. 

A bullet suddenly struck against the tree next to Emberglow, and she looked down with an oddly detached sense of curiosity at the sudden wetness on the shoulder of the burlap robe she’d been wearing.  It was damp with blood.

“I’ve been shot,” she noted idly.

“Goodness, are you okay?” Rarity rushed over.  She lit her horn, and once again fired red sparks into the air.

“Has it been five minutes already?” Emberglow asked.  Rarity ignored her, instead inspecting the wound in the light of her magic.  “Put that out, you’re giving away our position.”

“Cobalt and Terminus will have to see us somehow,” Rarity reasoned.  

“Yes, but…”

A pair of marines burst out of the trees behind them, charging with spears.  Emberglow shoved Rarity aside as the spear tips descended on them.  The potion must have been working, because it looked like they were moving in slow motion.  

Emberglow rolled to the right before shooting back up on both hooves, poised to strike.  The marine dodged, stepping backwards, but not far enough; her first hoof came down on his muzzle, while her second sent him reeling back into the dirt.  He dropped the weapon with a clatter.  Emberglow was already in motion, lunging into the air with a flap of her wings to slide around the second marine’s spear thrust.

She wobbled awkwardly in the air, her injured wings flapping oddly.  Desperately she rose, darting out of reach of the flashing spear beneath her.  Gunfire erupted from behind her, and a bullet sliced through one of her pinions.  With a grunt, she ducked back below the treeline, rolling in the air to barely avoid the marine’s next thrust.

“Emberglow, catch!” Rarity called out.  Blue light flashed just below her, and she glanced down to see the fallen spear floating just below her forelegs.   Emberglow dove, catching the spear and spinning it to face the marine below.  He stood his ground, covering for his compatriot who was working on standing up after Emberglow had stomped on his face.

Without warning Emberglow, the marines, and the forest were lit in a violent flash of lightning.  She locked eyes with the marine, and for a moment they stared each other down.  His eyes were wide with terror and determination.  He planted his shaking hooves over top of his downed companion, deliberately placing himself between Emberglow and his fellow marine.

A roar of thunder followed the flash, and the cacophony made her pause. He trembled and cringed as he tried to set his spear against her inevitable charge.

“Back away and run,” she called just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the rain.  “I’m a Knight.  You won’t win against me.  You and your friend can run, now.”

The grounded marine stood up, glanced at the two of them, and nodded slowly.  The two marines began backing away from her slowly, unwilling to show their backs.

“Go!” she screamed, lunging forward threateningly, and the two soldiers broke and sprinted through the trees.  

There was a crash behind her, and Emberglow spun to see a small chariot, being pulled by Cobalt, and the same black-furred, silver-maned pegasus Emberglow had briefly met in Manehatten.  Terminus, she thought his name was.

“Board up, ladies,” Terminus invited, waving at the chariot with one hoof.

“I can—“ Emberglow began, fluttering her wings.

“No.  You’ve taken a potion that makes you ignore pain.  Even I can see your wings are too injured for real flight.” Rarity was still panting slightly.  She trotted so she was behind Emberglow, and with her head, began bodily shoving her onto the chariot.  Emberglow yelped in protest, but didn’t resist too much.  “Now, sit and rest, young lady.  Whatever you’re feeling right now isn’t real, and I’m sure the pain will come back in a moment.”  She sat down next to Emberglow on the chariot.  “Let me look at that bullet wound of yours.”

“I think it’s just a scratch,” Emberglow said, though she wasn’t quite sure.  She glanced down herself at the wound on her shoulder, but it was hard to see in the dark.

“Hush, let me look,” Rarity said.  “I may not be a doctor, but I certainly know my way around a needle and thread.  I can at least stitch things up if I need to.”  

“Brace yourselves, ladies, we’re taking off,” Cobalt called back, as Emberglow began to hear shouting soldiers and stomping hooves behind them.  Terminus was drawing several runes in the air, casting a powerful, wide shield spell that would encompass the whole chariot.

“My battery’s tapped after that,” Terminus announced as the shield fell into place over them, a barrier of light that faded into invisibility after a second.  The chariot jolted as the two began pulling, and Emberglow braced herself against the railing while Rarity inspected her wound in the light of her horn.

“It does appear to be just a scratch,” Rarity confirmed.  “But you’ll still need some better medical attention as soon as possible.  I don’t like the way your wings looked when you were flying.”

There was something about being mothered by the beautiful mare that warmed Emberglow to her core.  She couldn’t help but give Rarity a grateful smile.

“We’re going to be flying above the cloud line, so if you’re acrophobic, try not to look down,” Cobalt called out as they ascended.  They gained altitude rapidly, the two males pushing hard to gain height as fast as possible.

Breaking above the rain cloud layer was a relief.  Now there was no longer rain pounding against them as they flew, and the moon was visible up above them, shedding a thin silver light over the blanket of black clouds below. 

Suddenly, the reality of what had just happened sunk in.  She was alive.  She was free.  She realized she’d never expected to see the moon or the stars again, or spread her wings.  Her eyes damp with sudden tears, she let out a sob of relief.

“What happened? Did I hurt you?” Rarity’s voice was full of concern.  Emberglow shook her head, and impulsively wrapped her hooves around Rarity.

“No.  Not at all.  I’m just…” She felt tongue-tied.  “Thank you.  I was sure I was dead.  I don’t think I would have made it to my execution. I—“ She took a shuddering breath.  “Thank you, Rarity.” 

“There there,” Rarity said, returning the hug.  “It’s nothing more than the duty of the dashing heroine, after all.”  Her voice was dramatically pompous, and Emberglow pushed out of the embrace enough to see the smirk on Rarity’s lips.  It made Emberglow smile weakly.  “There, that’s better, right?  A smile better suits a heroine, after all.”

“I thought you were the heroine of this story,” Emberglow teased, and Rarity nodded.

“We can both be, darling.  You, the dashing Knight who saved the lost unicorn from the foul, dirty cave, and me, the brave ingénue who dared an enemy camp and questionable fashion choices in order to rescue a friend from certain peril.”

“You make it sound so much more exciting than it was.”  

Rarity laughed. “Of course, darling.  That’s how hero stories work.”

Emberglow laughed again, and realized something.  The more time she spent talking to Rarity, the more she truly enjoyed being around the mare.  Rarity was elegant and beautiful, yes, but also funny and brave, with an air of maturity and worldliness that Emberglow admired.  

She opened her mouth to say something along those lines, when she caught a hint of movement behind them.  She spun to look.

“Look out, guys!” she yelled.  “We have pursuit!”  There were a half-dozen figures in the air, barely visible in the clouds. They were flying quickly, and gaining on the chariot at an alarming pace.  In the lead was a pegasus stallion in blue armor; the same one who had led the fight to capture her back when she’d originally tried to flee the camp.

Cobalt and Terminus immediately began pulling harder, straining their muscles to keep as much distance as possible between them and their pursuers.

“How many?” Cobalt shouted back.

“At least six!” Emberglow shouted.  “One Knight!”  The pegasus squad was already closing the distance.  Emberglow tightened her grip on her spear, tensing her legs to leap off and defend them if necessary.

“What are you doing?” Rarity gasped.  “You can’t go out there and fight them by yourself!”

“Why not?” Emberglow demanded.  “The important thing is that you get away, with whatever it is you got from Steadfast.  I’m expendable.”

“You are most certainly not!” Rarity demanded harshly, stomping a hoof indignantly.  “There were two parts to that mission, and you are more important than some stupid gem.”

“I doubt it,” Emberglow said.  “That’s an Element of Harmony, isn’t it?”

“It... is,” Rarity admitted.  “But we, that is, Heartwing and I, believe you might be one of the ponies destined to wield the Elements.”

Emberglow stared at Rarity in disbelief, before shaking her head.

“Sorry, Rarity.  But real life doesn’t work like your hero stories.  I’m not that important.”  She glanced up at Cobalt and Terminus.  “Get her to safety, I’ll slow down their pursuit.”

“Emberglow, no!” Rarity screamed, but Emberglow gave her no time to react as she launched herself off the back of the chariot, wings spread wide.  She took a moment to make one last glance back towards the departing chariot as it retreated towards the horizon; Rarity’s sapphire eyes were full of silent protest.

When her hooves touched the dark cloud cover, she could feel the thunder rumbling beneath her.   The wind whipped her mane and feathers about, but she kept her gaze firmly on the approaching Knight.

“Saints protect me,” she prayed, mostly out of habit, though she felt the cold hurt of her loss. But she felt the need to say something, to pray to something.  Instead of faith, though, she felt empty.  Regretful. 

“Keep up pursuit of the chariot, that’s the heretic Knight.  I’ll deal with her personally.”  It should have given her comfort that she didn’t have to deal with six ponies at once, but it didn’t; he was a Knight Adamant, far better trained and more experienced with hoof to hoof combat than she was.  This was a suicide mission, and she knew it.  Still, she raised her spear to a guard position as the stallion landed on the cloud next to her.

“You make no sense, heretic,” he said as he tried to circle around her.  She backed away, keeping herself between him and the chariot.  “You know you can’t beat me.”

“Not my job,” she shot back.  She thrust with her spear, testing him, and he swatted her weapon aside before she stepped back again.  “I just need to keep you from them.”

“I won’t take long, then.  That creep Brightblade will be disappointed to lose his favorite chew toy.”  The contempt in the Knight’s voice for the Mystic was obvious.  He made his own testing lunge, which she sidestepped.  Her improved reflexes were coming in handy.  “You look like you’re in bad shape, heretic.”

“Your soldiers are good shots, even in the dark,” Emberglow replied.  “You didn’t exactly give us enough time to bandage things up.”

“I mostly meant your wings, but I’ll pass along the compliment to my marines.”  He swung his spear in a wide arc, and she met his weapon with the haft of her own, a spray of splinters showering the clouds beneath them.  But instead of disengaging like she expected him to, he pressed the strike  and shoved his weight against her.   Their faces were close enough for her to see the scowl of effort pursing his lips.

The move caught Emberglow by surprise, and she tumbled backwards. The Knight landed on top of her, their crossed spears suspended just above her torso.  Relentlessly he pressed down, using his weight to shove the hafts of their weapons towards her throat.  She felt herself sinking into the cloud.

“I’ll at least make your death clean, mare,” he promised, his voice oddly sympathetic.  “Nopony deserves Brightblade.”

Even with the potion she had drunk, Emberglow’s muscles simply didn’t have the strength left to lift him off.  Slowly, the Knight pushed the crossed weapons until they pressed against her throat.  She jerked about underneath him, not daring to let go or try to shove him aside lest he shove down hard and crush her larynx.  Her hind hooves kicked at his armored barrel, ineffectually scrabbling against both her opponent and the clouds beneath them.

“Not much longer,” the stallion grunted, pressing unflinchingly against the spears as Emberglow struggled.  The wooden hafts dug into her throat, and the Knight began to strangle her.  Her eyes went wide with panic as she desperately shoved against the immovable force above her.  She could barely breathe, and the Knight barely reacted to her weak flailing.  Spots swam in her vision as her rear hooves beat against the cloud.

The cloud!  She was a pegasus!  Maybe she could break up the cloud if she could kick it hard enough!  She bent her rear legs as much as she could and kicked awkwardly against the cloud below her.  She felt a strange tingle of something shoot up her legs, but thought nothing of it.

“What are you…” the Knight asked, glancing down to her rear hooves.  “No!  Crazy mare, don’t you realize this is a …” She bent her legs and kicked again.

The cloud beneath Emberglow didn’t break up. It flashed, and bright white filled her vision. A force, almost like a blow, slammed into her back and head.  She was sent tumbling, tossed through the air and bouncing several times before stopping.  

She blinked to try and clear her vision as she stood.  Desperately, she breathed precious air into her lungs, only to smell ozone and singed fur.  What was… oh.  The cloud she was standing on was an angry grey storm cloud. She’d just hit herself, and probably the Knight, with lightning.

Squinting, trying to see past the blindingly bright retinal echoes, she looked around for the Knight.  Her spear was missing, probably tumbling down past the cloud line now that she was no longer holding it.  She saw the Knight’s spear nearby, floating gently on the clouds while a trio of runes glowed on the haft.  It made sense that a Knight Adamant pegasus would enchant his personal weapon with a cloud-walking spell.  

She galloped over to it, but something moved in her peripheral vision. Reacting on instinct, she rolled to the side, snatching up the spear with one hoof as the Knight shot past where she had just been. 

Emberglow used the momentum of the roll to carry her onto her hooves again, spinning to level the spear at her opponent.  The Knight looked shaky, with burn spots clearly visible on the bits of unarmoured fur.  With a snarl of annoyance, he reached back and pulled a long knife from a hidden sheath in his armor.  Each movement was jerky, and his limbs twitched as he moved.

“You’re insane, heretic,” he breathed, his voice raspy.  “Kicking a lightning cloud while you’re on it?  But I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?”

“Please just go,” she begged, her own throat raw and ragged.  “I don’t want to fight you.”

“You know I can’t, oathbreaker,” he spat.  “Good luck with your next incarnation.”  He raised his free hoof and began tracing it through the air, glowing with white light, while he held the knife out menacingly.

Emberglow lunged at him desperately.  She had no plan, she only knew she couldn’t let him finish casting.  Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.   He finished the second rune, and she knew she wouldn’t get there in time.  With a clumsy sort of foolhardiness, she threw the spear. Its sharp tip soared towards the Knight's face while she galloped frantically behind it.

The Knight paused his spellcasting long enough to swat the spear aside contemptuously, but Emberglow was right behind it.  Her own full-body tackle took him by surprise, her forehooves striking against his face as she barreled into him.

He swung his knife wildly, the blade digging into her cheek and up through her eye.  Half the world went dark as she felt a splash of wet warmth ooze down her face.  Even through the potion’s enchantment, she was aware of the pain, though it felt somehow far away, as if it had happened to some other pony.

They tumbled down onto the clouds, and this time it was the Knight on bottom, with Emberglow looming over him.  She reared up high on her hind hooves, preparing to stomp down. She saw more than felt him slashing desperately at her with his knife, the bloodstained blade scoring deeply against the underside of her barrel.  It wasn't enough to stop her though, and her hooves stomped down on his face with a sickening crunch.  The Knight’s head twisted to the side unnaturally, a stunned, pained look frozen in his open eyes. 

There was a long moment of stunned silence as the Knight twitched, then slipped through the cloud limply.  Her own heart froze when she realized what that meant; he was dead.  She had killed again.

Another set of eyes to haunt you in your dreams.  Another horrified, frozen, dead face to keep you company at night.  You’re starting to make quite the collection, killer!

But it wasn’t the Knight Adamant’s face that suddenly floated before Emberglow’s eyes.  It was a young stallion, weeping for his mother. 

She jerked back from the hole in the cloud left by the tumbling corpse and fell back on her behind.  She clutched at her chest with one hoof, her one good eye glued to that gaping hole left behind. 

Something was wrong.  She didn’t feel any pain, but there was a tightness in her chest, a squeezing sensation.  She was gasping for breath as she slumped into the clouds, but her lungs wouldn’t quite inflate.  Once again, she saw stars at the edges of her vision as she faded from consciousness.


*   *   *   *   *


            	When she came to, Emberglow’s whole body was twitching with pain.  Her wings were the worst, but her head pounded with agony and her chest was tight and sore.  Something was wrapped around her face.  She let out a groan of agony.

            	“Cobalt?  Terminus?  I think she’s awake!” she heard Rarity say with excitement.  Something brushed at her bangs, and she flinched at the contact.

            	She was laying on her back somewhere, and when she tried to open her eyes, another stab of violent pain assaulted her head.  With a moan, she tried to press her hooves to her face.  Something gently stopped her.

            	“Please relax, darling,” Rarity’s voice was soothing.  “You gave us quite the scare after you jumped off the chariot.”

            	“What…?” She couldn’t process what was happening.

            	“Don’t try to get up,” an unfamiliar, male voice said.  Emberglow tried anyway, and felt sharp twinges of pain shoot up her spine as she tensed to rise.

            	“No, Emberglow,” she heard Rarity say firmly, and a gentle hoof on her shoulder pushed her back against something soft.  “Please stay down and rest.”

            	“But I need to…” She pushed against the hoof, trying to get up. 

            	“Knight Private Emberglow!” a commanding voice barked, a second male voice that sounded vaguely familiar, and Emberglow froze.  “I order you to stay in your bedroll.”

            	“Who…”

            	“I outrank you, private,” the voice said.  Emberglow tried to open her eyes again, but there was a fiery lance of too-bright sunlight in her left eye and a lance of stabbing pain in her right, and she clenched them shut again.  “I’m a sergeant.”

            	“I don’t know if it counts if she hasn’t even officially switched to our side yet,” the other male voice said wryly.

            	“Could somepony tell me what happened?” Emberglow rasped.

            	“You, erm…” Rarity began, hesitating.

            	“You died, Emberglow.  Your heart stopped.  We barely caught you in time.”  It was the same voice that had ordered her still.  “Good thing Rarity was quick with the CPR.  She really knows what she’s doing.”

            	“CPR?”  Emberglow was confused for a moment.  Suddenly the ache in her chest made much more sense.  And was it her imagination, or did her lips still tingle from where…

            	It was probably a good idea not to think too hard about that.

            	“How are you feeling, darling?” Rarity asked.  “You look flushed.”

            	“I was dead.” Emberglow tried to stay calm.  “I was actually…”

            	“It was the lightning you kicked up, I think,” the sergeant said.  “You just didn’t feel yourself dying because of the potion you’d drunk.”

            	Emberglow grimaced at the thought. Best to think about something else. “How did we get away?”

            	“After you killed the Knight following us, we looped back to pick you up.  The pegasi chasing us didn’t want a fight after they lost their Adamant, so they retreated.” There was a short pause before he continued. “Are you...alright?”

            	No, she wasn’t. Her breaths were coming in ragged gulps, and she felt a gaping pit of horror in her chest.  She tried to force her eyes open, but only the right would open.  The pain was agonizing, but it was better than seeing the two faces that floated in her vision while her eyes were closed, with their blank, dead, accusing eyes. “I killed…!”

            	“You saved us, Emberglow,” the sergeant said.  She tried to focus her gaze on the stallion sitting above her.  She recognized him, scouring her fuzzy mind for the memory of his name.  Terminus.  Termie, Heartwing had called him.  She tried to look around at the other blurry figures, but the pain forced her to clench her eye shut again.  The visions were waiting, the bloody, staring, eyes.  She couldn’t help but whimper.

            	“Hush, everything is fine, you’re safe now.”  Rarity’s voice was soothing, but it beat helplessly against the stone walls of her budding panic.  She heard her own heartbeat in her ears, pounding in time with her hyperventilated breaths.  “Emberglow, please, calm down!”  Rarity sounded terrified.

            	She didn’t understand.  Emberglow wasn’t afraid for herself.  She’d killed.  Again.  This time a loyal Knight of the Diarchy.  Blood.  There was blood on her hooves, a stain that would never wash out.  She held her hooves in front of her closed eyes, terrified to look, sure she would see the dripping crimson of her own guilt.

            	“What can we…”

            	“I’m not the best at healing, but I know a few runes.  Step back, please.”

            	Suddenly Emberglow felt the calming waves of an anesthesia spell slip over her mind and body.  Her pain suddenly faded, covered away by the calming blanket of magic.  Her heartbeat slowed, and her breathing returned to normal.

            	“That spell is… dangerous,” Emberglow breathed.

            	“I know,” Terminus said.  “But so is another heart attack.”

            	“You don’t understand,” Emberglow pleaded.  “I killed.  Again.  I see their faces now.  I can’t have two faces in my nightmares!”  Three, if she counted Gadget.  Even though she hadn’t killed her, Gadget still appeared in most of her nightmares.  “I don’t even know what his name was!”  She wasn’t making any sense.  Even with the calming magic of the spell, she realized she was delirious.  Incoherent.

            	“I understand more than you might think,” Terminus said.  “Sleep for now, Emberglow.  I’ll keep watch, make sure you’re safe.  You did well today.”

            	She wanted to protest.  To scream and rage and deny.  But the spell was already pushing her into a forced sleep, and she couldn’t fight it any longer.

            	The last thing she heard before she slipped into unconsciousness was her own whimpering sobs.


*   *   *   *   *


            	Emberglow woke to the smell of black coffee and pancakes.  Slowly, and with great care, she eased her eye open.  Once again, her right eye opened, but the left didn’t obey.  She felt with one hoof, and discovered a bandage wrapped tightly around her face, covering the wounded eye.  She still hurt, but it was faded and distant, no longer the all-consuming aches and agony her whole body through.  The worst was probably her eye, followed by one of her wings.  

            	“Where am I?” she groaned. She was lucid enough to know that she should probably remain prone.  Carefully, she felt out her surroundings; she was laying on a military-issue bedroll.   There was a gently crackling fire, and the sun was rising in a cloud-streaked sky.  Overhead were trees; mostly willows and oaks, with a few conifers she couldn’t identify mixed in.  It was quiet and calm, something she hadn’t experienced in weeks.

            	“You’re about an hour’s flight south of New Canterlot City.”  She looked over. Terminus was stirring a pot of coffee over a fire, though his eyes were inspecting her.  There were two other figures wrapped in bedrolls, underneath a tarp.  Emberglow recognized Rarity’s sleeping form.  The other was a griffon; the same one she’d seen in silver armor, fighting back in Manehatten, and later trying to rescue her.

“Are we safe?”

“As much as we can be,” Terminus replied.  He must have seen something in her face, because he smiled sympathetically.  “Don’t worry.  Cobalt looped back to make sure our pursuit fled.”

“Oh.”  She fell silent, but that was awful.  Her thoughts were a mess of confusion and images.  Three sets of eyes.  A hole in the clouds.  Brightblade’s voice in her ears.

            	Her gaze shifted to the weapon lying on the empty bedroll that she assumed Terminus had slept in.  She wasn’t a stranger to firearms, as she’d spent quite a bit of time around Gadg – Gearsmith and the other marines.  This one, though, was odd.  The barrel was much longer, and the scope on top seemed impressive.  There was a graceful elegance to the weapon, and almost, it seemed to Emberglow, a brutal sort of honesty; it made no pretense about what it was for.

            	“T-Terminus?” Emberglow whispered, the unfamiliar name uncomfortable on her tongue.  She didn’t really want to talk, but she couldn’t stay quiet and alone in her thoughts any longer.  She reached out towards the weapon, stopping herself just shy of touching it.  “Does it ever get easier?”

            	“What do you mean?” His voice was soft and kind, and his eyes were full of empathy.

            	“K-k—“  Emberglow stammered.  She couldn’t say the word; it stuck in her throat, and she whimpered.  Dead eyes floated in her mind’s eye, and she spoke in a choked sob.  “…taking pony life.”

            	“For me?” Terminus mused sadly.  “No.” He glanced at his weapon with an oddly conflicted look.  “I’m good at what I do, Emberglow.  It’s even my cutie mark.  But I can’t enjoy it.”

            	“Why keep going, then?”

            	“Because if I don’t, who will?” Terminus asked.  “I could have let those marines I shot yesterday live, but you would have died.”

            	“That’s… the same thing he said.  Heartwing.” Emberglow whispered.  “I’ve only ever k-killed one pony, two now, and his face still haunts me.”  Tears leaked out of her good eye.  “He was probably even your friend!  Heartwing said his name was Night Star.”  Tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

            	“I knew Night Star, yes,” Terminus said, with a far off, sad look.  “But Emberglow, when that happened, you weren’t…”

            	“I can’t hide behind ignorance!” Emberglow yelled, cringing when the two sleeping figures stirred at the noise.  She lowered her voice.  “I’m responsible for his death.  Him, and the Knight today.”

            	“Yesterday,” Terminus corrected.  “But you didn’t let me finish.  Emberglow, you can’t blame yourself for who you were.  You were brainwashed.  Feeling guilt for what you used to be is natural, but you weren’t making decisions with all the information.”

            	“You think that matters to Night Star?” Emberglow shot back, and Terminus flinched.  “I thought so.  I am responsible for that.  I should have…”

            	“Emberglow, please,” Terminus interrupted.  “You can’t do that to yourself.  Regrets and might-have-beens will crush you.”  He stood up and walked over so he was sitting next to her bedroll, placing a gentle hoof on her shoulder.  “I’ve been working with ponies going through exactly what you’re going through for years now.  Will you let me help you?”  Emberglow nodded slowly.

            	“Okay.  So first, there’s some rules.  Rules for how to start loving yourself.”

            	“Loving myself?” Emberglow snorted.  It sounded ridiculous.

            	“Yes, exactly.  We don’t keep any of the self-denial and guilt control that the Diarchy teaches.  It starts with loving yourself.  It’s harder than it sounds.”

            	“Okay…” Emberglow said skeptically.

            	“The first rule,” Terminus began, “is to take each moment as it comes.  We can’t spend all our time worrying about what’s coming tomorrow, next week, next year, and so on.  Focus on living right now, and tomorrow you can worry about tomorrow.”

            	“That’s… exactly what Heartwing said.  In the cave.  I was not doing well,” Emberglow admitted.  Terminus smiled.

            	“It’s nice to hear that he listens to me sometimes.”  He laughed softly.  “It’s good advice, probably the most important.”

            	“It’s hard to want to be in this moment when this moment is so…” Emberglow trailed off.

            	“Frightening?  Depressing?” Terminus filled in helpfully.  Emberglow swallowed and nodded.  “I get that.  When I got kicked out of the Ivy Seminary, I was crushed.  They caught me in bed with another stallion, so it was off to a reeducation camp for me.  When I joined the Discordant, I felt directionless.  Empty.  It wasn’t enough to only take each moment as it came, I had to find a way to fill it.  That led to the second rule.  Figure out who you want to be today, and don’t worry about who you were yesterday.”

            	“Who I want to be today?” Emberglow wondered.  The question was surprising.  She’d spent most of her life worrying about who she wanted to be in the future.  A healer, a Knight, a devoted follower of the Saints.  That was all broken now, shattered and scattered around her like shards of glass in the face of truth.   “I don’t know.”

            	“You don’t?” Terminus asked, his eyebrows raised as he stared into her eyes.  “I’m surprised by that.  Sure, your life has just changed drastically.  You’ve learned things that have shaken apart everything you’ve ever believed in.  But does that mean there’s nothing left?  Think about it.”

            	Emberglow stared into the fire, thinking about who she was.  She was a healer, first.  That part she’d get to keep, regardless of what she believed.

            	“I’m… a healer.  A doctor,” she said softly, and Terminus smiled.

            	“They can’t claim that,” Terminus said.  “They didn’t make you a healer, you did that yourself.  You own that part of yourself, no matter what the Diarchy says.”

            	“But do I get to keep being a healer?” Emberglow asked, feeling a lump in her throat.  “Heartwing, and the other Discordant need Knights, right?  I’ll have to fight, and kill again.”

            	“Not if you don’t want to,” Terminus said.  “Heartwing will take anything you’re willing to give.  If you choose to join the Discordant, you can contribute in any way you wish.”

            	“What if…” Emberglow took a deep breath.  “What if I said I was never going to kill again?  No matter what?”

            	“You could still join our Order, if you wished,” Terminus said.  “Or you could simply live in our community.  Leave the Knighthood behind, and become a doctor.  Or whatever you want, really.”

            	“Whatever I want?”

            	“There’s more to you than just being a healer, I think,” Terminus said.  “Tell me about who you are today, right now.”

            	“I’m a healer,” Emberglow repeated.  It felt like a good baseline, a start for who she wanted to be.  “I’m a scholar too.”  She thought about what she’d learned in the past few weeks.  “I’m… a seeker of truth.  I want to learn everything I can about how I was lied to.  I don’t want anypony else to be deceived.”  This felt right.  Her voice grew in confidence as she spoke, and a sudden warm sort of glow filled her chest. 

There was a flash of orange light, and she saw a glow coming from next to Rarity’s sleeping form.  It shone out of a pouch attached to a belt that had been discarded when Rarity bedded down for the evening.  Slowly, the sleeping unicorn stirred, blinking blearily and looked at her utility belt.

            	“What is happening?” Rarity asked, confused, her gaze drifting down to her bags.  “Oh, that’s...”  She slipped out of her bedroll enough to open her pouch, pulling out the golden necklace with the apple shaped gem.  It was glowing with bright orange light.

            	“Is that the Element of Harmony?” Terminus gasped reverently.  Rarity nodded, turning the jewelry to look at it.  “But why is it…” his gaze shifted to Emberglow.

            	“Why indeed,” Rarity said with a smile.  The glowing torque was surrounded by soft blue magic, and Rarity levitated it over in front of Emberglow, who shrank back from the holy object.  “What do you think, dear?” Her voice was knowing, though Emberglow had no idea what she was implying.  “Why would the Element of Honesty be glowing in your presence?”

            	“I…”

            	“Humor me, darling.  Reach out and take it.”

            	Slowly, shoving down the fear she felt rising in her gullet, Emberglow reached out and touched the gem with her hoof.  There was a bright flash of light, and everything went black.
> Interlude: What Emberglow Saw
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: What Emberglow Saw


The first thing Emberglow saw was a pathway below her hooves.  It was made of stars, and it twisted and snaked through the starlight void like a meandering stream.  There were images, like moving photographs, floating about the air around her.  They were scenes from her own life. 

            	“Pretty, aint it?” said a voice from behind her.  It was a voice that dripped with an accent she couldn’t place, but that somehow sounded both homey and alien.  Emberglow felt no danger or threat from the voice, so she turned slowly to see another pony standing on the path.

            	The pony was orange-furred, with long blonde hair that was tied back in a ponytail.  She stood casually, with one forehoof cocked in front of the other.  She was smiling gently, and her green eyes were focused on Emberglow.  On her head sat a familiar battered brown hat.

            	“S-saint Applejack?” Emberglow gasped as recognition sparked in her brain.  The figure rolled her eyes.

            	“Don’t know nothin’ about this ‘saint’ business,” the mare muttered.  “That kinda thing started up long after I was gone.  But I am Applejack.  Kinda.”

            	“You’re…”

            	“Dead.  Yeah, I know it.” Applejack nodded.  “For a few hundred years now, I reckon.  Of course, things have changed a mite since I’ve been around, but you’d know all about that.”  She laughed.  “But we’re not here to talk about me.  We’re here to talk about you.”

            	“Me?”

            	“I’m mighty proud of ya, Emberglow.  A mare after my own heart, you could say.”  Applejack gave a small chuckle.  “You’re a good pony.  I’ve been watching you for a while now.”

            	“Watching? How?” Emberglow asked.  Her mind was spinning; she was completely lost in this conversation.

            	“You touched the Element, right?  That’s why you’re here,” Applejack said, as if that answered anything.

“Where is here?”

“I don’t know much about it,” Applejack glanced around her.  “It’s not really a place for mortal ponies like you or me.  I guess you could say the Princesses are letting us borrow this place for a bit so we can chat.”

            	“I’m confused.” Emberglow admitted, and Applejack chuckled again.

            	“Yeah, I reckon that makes sense.  Twilight would explain it a lot better’n I would, but she ain’t here, so you’ll have to live with me.

            	“It’s like this.  I’m not really Applejack, see?  I’m a piece of her, a bit of her memories broken off and copied onto that gem you touched.  The Element.  I’m like a shadow, or a reflection in a mirror.  And I’ve been keeping an eye on the next pony that’s gonna be hangin’ onto the Element of Honesty.”  Applejack’s grin widened, and she pointed a hoof at Emberglow.  “If you want, of course.”

            	“But…”  Her mind reeled.  “If… if I want?”

            	“Now don’t go saying you don’t deserve it, or some other nonsense like that,” Applejack scolded gently, before Emberglow could even get another word out.  “That ain’t true, and you know it.  It ain’t about who deserves it.  It’s about who’ll do the best job carryin’ it.”  The mare stepped forward, her hooves making no noise on the starry path.  With shock, Emberglow realized that the mare was partially transparent, looking ethereal and fuzzy, as if she weren’t quite there.

            	“We’ve all kept an eye on our successors,” Applejack said.  “Well, all of us but Rarity.  The poor stallion that’s getting hers is gonna be on his own, but he’ll be fine.  He’s my kin, after all.”  Applejack laughed. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been watching you.  You had some hard times, but every time you proved you were the right one for my Element.”

            	“How?”

            	“Well, think about it, missy.  You’ve always been true to yourself.  True to your faith, even when you didn’t know it was wrong.  True to right and wrong, when you found out your beliefs were wrong.  True to your parents, true to your friends.  You’re honest to the core, Emberglow.  Even when it hurts.”  As she spoke, the images around them shifted to scenes from Emberglow’s life.  Helping out in her parent’s shop.  Standing up to Blingshine in the Port Luminescence prison.  Arguing with Heartwing in the Manehatten cave.  Even turning down Steadfast’s most recent offer.  It was like a hero’s tale of her life; every proud moment in her life, on vulgar display about her.

            	Emberglow lowered her eyes to the path.  The pictures she saw were telling one story.  The images in her head were telling another.  “You’re making me out to be a better pony than I am.”  She clenched her eyes shut.

            	“The things you’ve done have hurt you,” she heard Applejack’s voice say from nearby, and a hoof gently patted her back.  “But you need to know your own worth, sugarcube.  There’s gonna be new Elements of Harmony, and you need to be their strength.  Their pillar.  The one that keeps ‘em honest.”  She winked at the last.  “Do you think you can do that, Emberglow?  Hang on to the Element of Honesty, and save the world along with the others?”

           “What if I can’t?”  The question slipped out in a whisper.  “What if I’m not good enough?  I have blood on my hooves, Saint Applejack.”  There had to be somepony better.  Somepony who hadn’t lived a lie for years.  Somepony who hadn’t killed.  

“I ain’t gonna lie to you.”  Emberglow’s eyes shot open, and she looked deep into Applejack’s own misty expression.  “I can tell you’re hurtin’ cuz of what you’ve been through.  The stuff you’re feeling ain’t gonna go away easy.  Things might only get harder from here on out.  But for what it’s worth?  ‘Saint’ Applejack thinks you’re good enough to do what needs to be done.”

“Am I…” Emberglow took a shuddering breath.  “I’m going to have to kill again, aren’t I?  I mean, if I accept this role, I’m choosing sides.”

“Sides?  War?”  Applejack shrugged.  “I reckon it’s a little more messy than that.  But if it makes you feel any better, I think you’ll get to decide.”

“Decide what?”

“What kind of Element to be.  How you choose to fight your battles.  The Element’s yours because of who you choose to be, every day.  Keep making those choices and you’ll do just fine.”

Emberglow wasn’t sure.  She tried to see what Applejack saw, tried to focus on the floating images around her, tried to feel pride in the good she’d done.  Instead she felt only uncertainty.

 	“Do I…” she took a deep breath. “Do I even have a choice?”

            	“Course you do,” Applejack said.  “You always have a choice.  But I think we both know what you’re gonna choose.  We wouldn’t be having this chat if you weren’t the kind of pony I think you are.”

            	Did she have a choice?  “What happens if I say no?”

“Don’t rightly know,” Applejack shrugged.  “You could live your life, I reckon.  Away from the war and the conflict.”  Even as Applejack was speaking, Emberglow felt herself shaking her head.  

“What do I do?”

            	“Same as you always do, I imagine,” Applejack said.  “Be a friend.  Stay close to Rarity and the others, and keep them safe.  Keep your word.  And keep chasing after the truth, just like you always do.  You’ll be fine.”  The phantom mare hesitated for a moment, and her eyes became misty.  “One last thing, though.  Look after my friend, will ya?  Rarity’s a smart mare, but sometimes she gets in over her head, or loses sight of her priorities.  Keep her in the present.”

            	“I will.  I promise,” Emberglow said.

            	“And I know that means a lot,” Applejack said with another wink.  “Good luck, Emberglow.  You’ll need it.”
> Chapter 31
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 31


Letter, sent from Ambassador Turquoise to High Inquisitor Steadfast Word

Steadfast-

I was heartbroken to receive your last letter.  Emberglow missing in action?  I wish I’d been there.  I’m sure you’re having a difficult time; she spoke of you frequently, and I know the two of you were close.  I will remember her, and you, in my prayers and beg the Saints for her safe return.

You probably already have, but could you please take a moment to check in on her parents?  They’re lovely ponies, and I’m sure a visit from you would be welcome.  This will be even harder on them.

I wish I had good news about the Crystal Empire to cheer you up, but things have been difficult.  I have been trying my best to get through to the Crystal Ponies, but I’m smart enough to know when I’m being ‘handled’.  On the surface, they're are polite and open-minded, but it’s an act; they’re only pretending to be cordial.   I don’t know why they agreed to allow this embassy, but it appears as if they have no intention of actually cultivating a closer relationship with the Diarchy.

Nothing proves this more than my lack of contact with their princess, Flurry Heart.  I have met her twice in the weeks I’ve been here.  The first time was our welcome visit, a purely ceremonial affair where I was unable to speak with her.  The second was when I submitted a request to begin building a cathedral in the Empire.  The request was approved, on the condition that it not contain any statues of the Saints.  I suppose we could use their cutie marks instead, but what kind of cathedral is that?  In any case, I wasn’t allowed to speak much with her at all.

Instead, the highest government official I interact with regularly is Princess Flurry Heart’s personal student, a unicorn named Lightning Bug.  This is perhaps the most uncomfortable thing about the whole situation; I’ve met Lightning before.  She was one of the pirates Emberglow, Delver, and I fought a few months back.

She pretends not to remember me, but I see the fury in her eyes every time she looks my way.  I certainly can’t blame her; I remember she called the zebra captain her father.  Adopted, obviously.  But as long as she ignores our shared history, I’m not going to bring it up.

I’ve sent a more complete report back to my superiors, but I thought I owed you an explanation why I haven't made much progress on your request.  Don’t worry, I’m including as much information as I have obtained on both alicorns, and on the other races that inhabit the empire.  Our contact with groups like the yaks and the ‘diamond dogs’ has been limited, and I’ve never even caught a glimpse of the creatures referred to as ‘changelings’ (more handling by our ‘hosts’, I presume) but I’m taking as many notes as I can.  I’ll send you the highlights.

Stay positive.  I’m not giving up yet.  We’re beginning construction on the cathedral soon, so if nothing else I’ll have that as a legacy for my time in the Empire.  But I have faith something will change soon; the Saints would never have sent me here if it was all for nothing.

Signed,

Ambassador Turquoise.  

1113 AF, New Canterlot City

            	Ever since he had become a Squire, Lofty had been a regular lucid dreamer.  Before his faith in the Saints had dried up and dribbled away like a stream in a drought, he’d assumed it was a gift from the Diarchs, through them.  Now when he dreamed, he searched for Luna.  She had spoken to him in his dreams before, even led and guided him on occasion. Now, he needed answers.  In every one of his dreams, he would look for the moon, but every time, She would be silent.

            	Tonight, he dreamed of sitting on a grassy hill, looking up into the starlit, moonless night sky.  Idly, he tried to imagine the moon appearing in the sky, imagining its comforting glow. Nothing happened, again. Though he was certain he was dreaming, and therefore should be able to control certain parts of the dream, he was never able to summon the silvery orb of the moon to shine down on him. Maybe the moon only appeared when She was visiting.

            	“I could really use your guidance now,” he called out into the darkness, hoping for an answer, though he didn’t really expect one.  “I don’t know what comes next, but I’m worried.  Mostly about my son.  He’s innocent.  Is there any way you can make sure he doesn’t get caught up in my problems?”

            	For a moment he thought he saw a flash of silvery light, as if Luna was struggling to reach out to him, to touch his dreams as if from a great distance.  But as he waited, his eyes poring over the glittering stars, there was no further hint of Her presence. He sighed, standing up and stretching.  From what little information he’d been able to glean from the dream mare, he had concluded that something kept her from contacting him as frequently as she would like.  She probably wouldn't appear to him tonight.

            	“You’ve met her, then?” came a voice from behind him, and he jerked in shock.  This was Lofty’s dream; nothing should be here except what he created.  He spun to face the intruder.

            	Topaz Glitter stood on the hill, just slightly downhill from Lofty’s perch.  She was nude, except for a golden torque around her neck, with a centerpiece of a blue gem, shaped like a sun half-risen over the horizon.  He couldn’t help but glance; the gem was the same shape as her cutie mark, though the sun on her flank was yellow, and had a smiling face with closed eyes.

            	“You’ve met the moon princess?  Princess Luna?” Topaz repeated.  Lofty stared, openmouthed.  If his subconscious mind had been able to conjure her up here, apparently he didn’t have as much control over his own dreams as he had thought.

            	“Topaz?  Huh.  I wish the real you were here.” He stepped towards the beautiful mare.  She laughed.

            	“I’m not real?”

            	“It’s a dream.  My dream.”

            	“Oh, then maybe you’re right,” Topaz giggled.  “Maybe you’re just dreaming about me.  Nice to know I’m in your dreams, though.”  She glanced down at herself and her grin widened, though she started blushing.  “Huh.  Looks like I’m naked.  Not that I mind, really, but this is how you dream about me, Lofty?”

            	“I didn’t… but what…” he floundered, while Topaz laughed.  “Um, sorry?”  He didn’t know why he was apologizing; it wasn’t the real Topaz, after all, just a dream.

            	“You don’t need to be sorry,” Topaz cooed.  “It’s your dream.  Admire away.”  She swished her tail, and for a second, his eyes were glued on her swaying flank before he jerked his gaze down and away.  She laughed again.  “If you’re uncomfortable, I can put something on.”

            	“N-no,” Lofty stammered.  Though they were rare, he was no stranger to the odd erotic dream.  He felt the need to change the subject, though.  “You were asking about Luna?”  He never hesitated over Her name in his dreams.

            	“I asked if you’ve met her, in your dreams,” the flirty, teasing note in her voice was gone, and she merely sounded eager and curious.  Lofty wondered what part of his subconscious she was representing right now.

            	“Sometimes,” he replied.  “I could really use her wisdom right now.”

            	“Can I help?” Topaz asked.

            	“I don’t know,” Lofty admitted.  “I’m not sure my own subconscious can help.”

            	“Try me,” Topaz grinned.  “The subconscious mind can be very wise, sometimes.”

            	“Okay,” Lofty said carefully.  “I’ll try.  I’m… afraid.  Terrified.  I’m learning all sorts of frightening things.  You, uh, the real you that is, told me about alicorns.  The perfect unity of the three pony races.  About the truth of Twilight Sparkle, the unicorn, not the earth pony.  My friend Emberglow told me something even more stunning.  That for a thousand years, Rarity, not the saint, but the real unicorn pony Rarity, has been trapped in a stasis spell.  Emberglow woke her up, and now she’s alive and active.  A literal voice from the past, living proof that we’ve been lied to.”

            	“W-what?” Topaz stammered.  “Rarity?  The Rarity?  Alive!?  That’s incredible!  Where is she now?  What’s she doing?”

            	“With the heretics, apparently.  Emberglow would know more, but I didn’t ask her.”

            	“Drat.  You dangle something that interesting, that fascinating in front of me, and don’t give me any more?”  Topaz mock-scowled at him.  “Tease.”

            	“You’re one to talk,” he smirked, taking a moment to eye her flank once more.  She wiggled her eyebrows and swished her tail again.  “Wow, if you’re my subconscious, you’re far more worried about relieving my extended dry spell than you are easing my worries.”

            	“Sorry,” Topaz blushed.  “I’ll try to be a bit less flirty.”

            	“No, it’s fine,” Lofty sighed, turning back to look up at the moonless sky.  “Luna isn’t coming tonight anyways.  She usually doesn’t, I was just hoping.  Besides, the flirting is making this dream much more fun than I expected.  It’s been far too long since I’ve enjoyed a riveting conversation with a beautiful mare.”

“Even though you’re basically just flirting with a figment of your own imagination?” Topaz giggled.

“Maybe I’m just considering this practice for the real thing.  I do enjoy flirting with Topaz in real life.”  He smiled.  “Whatever this exchange really is, it’s distracting me nicely from my worries.”

            	“But what about your questions?  Your fears?  You still need to talk to Princess Luna, right?”

            	“Perhaps, but I can’t make her appear on command.  I think…” he paused thoughtfully.  “I think she has a hard time connecting with my dreams sometimes.  The only time I was able to have a clear conversation with her was when I was in Old Canterlot.  She told me she's stronger there.”

            	“Maybe that’s where you should go, then,” Topaz suggested.  Lofty snorted.

            	“It’s not that easy.  There’s only one train line up, and only Knights and squires can ride.  Then imagine I get there safely.  Then I do… what?  Find a nice, cozy spot in the ruins and fall asleep?”  He sighed.  “It’s not like I haven’t thought about it before.  It just doesn’t make any sense.  Just like now, I end up talking myself in circles.”

            	“How badly do you need to speak with her?” Topaz asked.  Lofty thought about it for a moment, then shrugged.

            	“I don’t know.  Pretty badly.”  He sighed.  “I can’t sleep most nights because of worry.  Everything is changing.  I’m on edge all the time.  I can’t even talk about this stuff with the real Topaz, for fear of being overheard.”

            	“You can talk about it now, though.  With me, here, safe in your dream.”  Topaz walked up to stand alongside him, pushing her body against his, and wrapping a forehoof around him to pull his head in for a nuzzle.  He let himself sink into the comfort of the gesture for a second, burying his nose in her scent.  “If you could share all your worries with the real Topaz, what would you say?”

The question made him think.  “I don’t know, exactly.  I’d probably vent all my worries.  I’d talk about the stress of knowing the Mystics could be watching at any moment.  I’d talk about my deteriorating relationship with my family.  I’d talk about how my faith has more-or-less disappeared in the last few weeks, and I have no idea what to do about it.”  His eyes found hers, and he wished he could just stand, silently, staring into them forever.  “I’m frightened every day, Topaz.”

“You’re a brave pony, Lofty Tale.  You’re clever, and kind.  You’ve drawn the favor of the Princess of the Night, and you’ve got a sexy crystal pony falling for your charms.”  She giggled at the last.  “You can do anything you need to.  You can figure out all of this.”

            	“Flattery?  From my own subconscious?”  Lofty laughed.  Oddly enough, talking to himself this way did actually make him feel better.  “This is really one of the most surreal conversations I’ve ever had with myself.  I really do have a high opinion of myself.”

            	“You should,” Topaz said, moving away from him so she could look him in the eye.  “You’re an incredible pony.  I’m lucky to have met you.”

            	“I wonder if the real Topaz would feel that way,” Lofty whispered.  He couldn’t take his eyes from the dream in front of him.  There was something in her expression, in her earnest eyes, the slight flush of her cheeks, the slightest upturn of her lips, that drew him in.  “Can I… can I kiss you?”

            	“You need to ask?” Topaz breathed, and their lips met.  It was no chaste peck, but a passionate union of lips and tongue, a desperate, hungry kiss.  She moaned in pleasure, making needful little noises that fanned the flames of his passion.  His hooves trailed down her body, first to twine in the silken strands of her mane, then further down her back towards her flank. 

Suddenly there was a flash of light, and Topaz’ entire body changed, becoming luminescent.  Lofty broke their kiss, gaping at her in openmouthed shock.  She beamed back at him, her entire body twinkling and shining with crystalline reflections.

“I guess you know why they call us crystal ponies.” She laughed as he stared at her.  “Now where were we?”  She closed the distance between them again, and their lips met for a second time.


*   *   *   *   *


            	Lofty awoke, uncomfortably unsatisfied.  His bedsheets were damp with sweat, and he groaned in frustration.  He glanced at the clock sitting on his night stand; it was just after eight in the morning.  He still had nearly three hours until his lunch date with Topaz Glitter.

            	The thought brought a vivid recollection of his dream, and he groaned again as he jerked himself out of bed towards his bathroom.  A cold shower was definitely in order before he could do anything else today.  

He stepped into the bathroom and turned the faucet on to a frigid blast.  He steeled himself before stepping into the bracingly cold shower, though it did provide just the cooling down he had needed after that dream.  Idly, he wondered if the real Topaz kissed anything like the dream one.  Perhaps he’d be able to find out someday.

            	A loud knock on his bathroom door interrupted his shower.  Shivering, he turned off the water and quickly toweled off before donning his bathrobe.  He stepped over to the door and cracked it open.

            	“Yes?”

            	“Sorry to interrupt your shower, sir,” came the voice of his butler.  “It’s your sister.  She’s waiting for you at breakfast, in the dining room.”

            	“And this morning started so nicely,” he sighed.  His butler discreetly said nothing.  “Let her know I’ll be there momentarily.  I don’t suppose you took note of her mood?”

            	“I daresay it wasn’t my business, sir,” the butler said, and Lofty sighed again.  That meant not good.

            	“I’ll be down soon.”

            	Briefly, he considered dallying, just to make Grace upset.  It was petty, but most of his interactions with his family were these days.  He decided not to, however; if there was going to be some sort of tense negotiation with his sister, he wanted it to at least start out on the right hoof.  He quickly got dressed and trotted downstairs to the dining room.

            	Grace was there already, as was True, strapped into his high chair and making an absolute gleeful mess of his pancakes.  Grace had no plate in front of her, instead merely a steaming mug of something and a closed file folder.  She glanced up at him as he entered, and Lofty could see that her eyes were puffy from crying.  He felt a brief pang of relief that he’d decided against antagonizing her.

            	“Grace.  It’s lovely to see you,” he said politely, and the flash of annoyance in her eyes said she didn’t believe him.  True looked up and grinned as his dad, his face sticky with syrup.

            	“Daddy!  Goomornin!” he managed with his mouth full, and Lofty couldn’t help but grin.  True pointed at Grace.  “Aunty’s here!”

            	“Yes she is.  Have you been a polite host to our guest?” Lofty asked.  A puzzled look flashed across his muzzle, and he glanced back and forth between Lofty and Grace.

            	“He’s been a perfect gentlestallion.  Very polite and well behaved,” Grace said softly, reaching out to ruffle True’s mane. Her voice sounded hoarse and tired.  Lofty walked over to the table and sat down, on the other side of his son from his sister.  It wouldn’t hurt to have a buffer between the two of them, to keep them both polite.

            	“So, what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?” he asked.  Grace cleared her throat awkwardly, and slid the folder over in front of Lofty.  He eyed her expectantly, but she simply rested her head in her hooves with exhaustion, staring into the contents of her mug.  With a shrug, he flipped open the folder and glanced at the legal document stored inside.  Silently, he glanced over the contents, his surprise growing as he read.

            	“This is…” he looked up in shock.  “You’re naming True your heir apparent?”

            	“I am,” Grace muttered.

            	“But—“

            	“I’m barren, Lofty,” she choked out in a whisper.  “I can’t have foals.”

            	Lofty gaped at her. “You’ve been to see a doctor?” 

            	“Four.  Four doctors.  Telomere gave his diagnosis first.”  Telomere was the family doctor.  “I fired him, then went to get a second opinion. Then a third.  After I got the fourth opinion, I rehired Telomere with an apology.”  She gave a bitter laugh.  “He forgave me.”  She finally looked up at him, over True’s head.  “True will lead this family if I retire or die.  Most likely, his oldest daughter will be the one to inherit the title.”

            	Lofty was stunned to silence for a few breaths, staring at his sister, who met his gaze with a tired, broken sort of look.

            	“Why?”

            	“I have no other choice,” she hissed.  “I’m barren, didn’t you hear?”  Her eyes were wet, and flashed with a sudden fierceness.  “But I need to warn you, Lofty.  True is the future of our family, now.  That means you have to take his raising seriously.”

            	That provoked a spike of irritation from him. “I am,” he said, trying not to snarl at her.  Grace scoffed.

            	“Are you?  From what I hear, you’ve been spending your free time with some mystery crystal pony mare from the embassy.”  She huffed.  “Have you learned nothing from your disgrace?”

            	“My life is none of your business, Grace,” he spat.

            	“It is now.”  She stood, knocking her chair over with her sudden movement.  She was trembling with emotion.  “This is your warning, brother.  Shape up your behavior, or I’ll take legal action.”

            	True had paused in his breakfast, looking back and forth between the two adults.  It was clear from his look of confusion that he didn’t understand, but he could sense the tension in the room.  Lofty took the opportunity to take a slow, calming breath.

Deep down inside, he knew she could do what she was threatening.  With Lofty’s disgrace, and True now her heir apparent, Grace could take steps to obtain legal custody from Lofty if he were declared an unfit parent.  It would be barely an inconvenience for her.  The thought brought a bitter stew of emotions to a boil inside him, from frustrated, bitter rage to cold, churning terror.

            	“Is that all?” he whispered.  Coolly, she nodded.  “Then maybe you should say goodbye to your nephew.”

            	“I have a gift for him, before I go,” she replied.  True’s ears perked up at the word “gift”, and Grace managed a thin smile.  She reached under the table, where Lofty saw her rummage in a pair of saddlebags he hadn’t noticed before.  She withdrew a small box, wrapped in bright green and gold paper.  “Here you go, little one.  Enjoy the rest of your breakfast.”  She set the box before True, then put on her saddlebags and turned to leave.

            	“You’re not going to stay for him to open it?” Lofty asked, but she shook her head.  He shrugged.  “Tell your aunty thank you, True.”

            	“Fanks!” True managed, his earlier concerns forgotten in the face of a mouthful of pancakes and a brightly wrapped present.  “Byebye!” he waved a sticky hoof at his aunt, though his eyes never left the box.  He glanced up at his father questioningly.  Lofty waited until Grace was out of the room before nodding at his son, who clapped his hooves together before snatching the package.

            	The flimsy wrapping paper was no match for a determined toddler.  Lofty couldn’t help but laugh as a green and gold flurry exploded around the colt and his present.  Finally, he revealed a blank white box, which he held up questioningly to his father.

            	“Need some help opening it?” he asked fondly, and True nodded.  Carefully, he took the box from him and opened it, only to gasp with surprise.

            	Smarty Pants was a family heirloom.  The doll looked battered, but a powerful and ancient enchantment had kept the stuffed toy intact for generations of Tale foals.  It was grey, with one purple button and another blue button as eyes.  It had passed from parent to foal through the Tale family longer than the family had recorded.

            	There was no way True would understand the significance, though Lofty was touched.  Grace would never have given True the doll unless she had truly given up all hope of having a foal of her own.

            	“This is Smarty Pants,” Lofty told his son, who pulled the doll out of the box.  It flopped limply in his hooves.  “He’s a very special colt.  He has an enchantment that protects him from getting torn or dirty.  He’s magic.”

            	“Magic?” True whispered, sounding impressed.  He carefully dipped the doll’s hoof in the syrup on his plate, and Lofty had to suppress the urge to stop him.  Wonderingly, the foal touched the hoof, which was completely free of sweet goo.  “It’s magic!” True crowed with glee, and began dancing Smarty Pants up and down on his breakfast plate.  Lofty couldn’t help himself; he burst into laughter at his son’s behavior.


*   *   *   *   *


            	“Really?  It repels dirt and grime?” Topaz asked incredulously. The two sat on a picnic blanket in the center of a park in the Everfree District, sharing a light meal prepared by Lofty’s cook.  Both ponies watched True bounce about on a nearby playground, stopping every so often to turn and wave brightly at his father.

            	“You should have seen True.  He was making the doll dance up and down in his pancake syrup. It was the cutest thing!” Lofty snickered, and Topaz laughed along.  “But no matter how many times it got dipped, the doll was bone dry.”

            	“I wish I’d been there,” Topaz said.  For a moment, Lofty wished she’d been there too, but then remembered that would have meant Topaz meeting Grace.  He quickly suppressed a shudder at the thought.  “My morning wasn’t nearly as interesting.  Well, besides the dream I had.”

            	Lofty’s heart skipped a beat, forgetting all about his sister.  “O-oh?  What did you dream about?”

            	“Not much, really.  I was on the most beautiful starlit hill, alongside a devastatingly charming young stallion.”  The look in her eyes was utterly cheeky, and he was sure he looked like he’d just been knocked upside the head with a club. 

            	“Really?  That… sounds interesting,” he managed.  Her grin widened.

            	“Oh yes.  He was dealing with some personal issues, but I’ve always been attracted to stallions who can be honest about their concerns and their problems.  And then” — she blushed, deep red over her orange fur — ”and then he kissed me.  And it was incredible.”

            	“Uh… gah…wha?” Lofty was fairly sure his brain was short-circuiting.  “How?”  Topaz giggled.

            	“How was it incredible?”  Topaz held a melodramatic hoof up to her lips.  “You need details?  Lofty, I didn’t know you were such a voyeur.  But if you insist.”

            	“That’s not what I…” Lofty squawked.  He was brought out of the conversation for a short moment when True let out a cheer of glee as he slid down the playground slide, and it gave him a moment to calm himself.  “I meant, how were you in my dream?” he whispered.

            	“What?” Topaz cooed, mock surprise thick in her voice.  “You dreamed of me?  Lofty, that’s so sweet!”  She leaned in close, her face brushing a hair’s breadth away from his.  His heart pounded, and his thoughts were incoherent.  As her lips passed his ear, her words were the merest breath.  “It’s okay.  You don’t need to speak about your dream if you don’t want to, after all.  Dreams are private, personal, and intimate.”  

Her warm breath tickled his fur and made his ear twitch, and she drew closer to give him a peck on his cheek. He flushed brightly, but somehow was able to catch the hidden implications of her message.  They separated, and his eyes found hers.  Silently, he nodded, and she grinned.

            	He felt a sudden rush of relief.  He had had many worries the last few days, from the increasingly probing sessions with Sir Tarpit to Grace’s new ultimatums.  It was nice to know that one of those worries, finding a way to speak with Topaz without any chance of being overheard, was now gone. 

            	“I am rather interested in continuing my cultural education while we watch your son play, though.”  It wasn’t the most graceful of subject changes, but Lofty sensed that it was somehow related.  “Specifically, I’d like to learn more about what you know of Saint Rarity.”

            	She didn’t really want to know about his religion, he was sure.  She wanted to know more about what he’d mentioned in his dream.  The dream she had somehow been inside.  The questions burned in his mind, but he set his curiosity aside for now.  Maybe later, there would be a way to ask Topaz about how it all worked. For now, he had to focus on telling her what he knew without revealing anything suspicious to prying ears.

            	“Unfortunately, there’s not much I can tell you. I only know the most general of Saint Rarity’s teachings, the ones found in the Book of the Saints.  You’d really need to speak with a Knight Radiant.  Like my friend Emberglow.”  He sighed sadly.  “She’s been missing in action for weeks now.  Some secret mission down in Manehatten that she couldn’t tell me much about.”  He could at least let her know where Rarity was found.  He saw the glint of understanding in her eyes and she nodded.

            	“I’ll have to ask her if I ever get to meet her,” Topaz said slowly.  Lofty wondered if she could somehow contact Emberglow in her dreams.

            	“I really wish I knew if she were safe or not,” Lofty said slowly.  “It’s hard without any sort of closure.”  It was a bit vague for a request for information, but Topaz nodded confidently, and Lofty felt his heart surge with hope.  He hadn’t heard a peep from Emberglow after she’d stayed at his manor for a month.  Knowing whether she was safe would assuage a worry that had been bugging him for far too long.

            	“Um, I don’t know much about your faith,” Topaz began, rubbing her hooves together slightly awkwardly. Lofty looked at her curiously.  “But I’m sure if you believe, and trust in the Diarchs, everything will be fine?  I mean, it may seem like they’re silent sometimes, but they’re always watching, right?  That’s… what the Confessors teach?”

            	It felt like she was trying to subtly say something else, but Lofty wasn’t catching the message.  He looked at her, a bit confused.

            	“Well, yes, I suppose.  I do pray to the Saints daily for my friends’ safe return.”

            	“Can I… join you?” Topaz sounded hesitant, but Lofty didn’t see any reason to say no.  “I haven’t seen the inside of a cathedral yet.”

            	“We could stop by one on the way home,” Lofty said.  “There’s one near the park.”

            	“Okay.  That sounds nice.”  Topaz sounded nervous, but she shook her head at Lofty’s questioning look.  “We can go as soon as True’s done playing.”

            	“You don’t know my son well, yet,” Lofty laughed.  “He’ll never stop.  We could watch him forever.”

            	“I could, really,” Topaz giggled.  “He’s too cute.”  Currently the colt in question was attempting some feat of engineering in the sandbox that surrounded the playground equipment.  His tail lashed about in the air as he dug with his forehooves, spraying sand everywhere.

            	“A few more minutes couldn’t hurt,” Lofty said indulgently.  He took a deep breath, and for the briefest of seconds, he let all of his worries fade away.  For a moment, he could pretend that everything was fine.  That he had no worries.  That the Mystics weren’t trying to make him report on Topaz.  That his friend Emberglow wasn’t in danger somewhere.  That his faith wasn’t falling apart into shattered pieces all around him.

For that moment, it was just him, his son, and the mare who was very quickly becoming an ever-growing part of his life.

            	“Daddy!” True called out, waving a hoof from the inside of the hole he’d just dug.  It was deep enough that True’s head and shoulders were just barely visible.”Dig’d deep hole!”

            	“Lofty, he digged deep hole!” Topaz repeated, giggling.  Lofty rolled his eyes.  “C’mon, let’s go play in the dirt with your son.”

            	“Yes, ma’am,” Lofty laughed.  There was something so effortlessly cheerful about Topaz that made him feel lighter.  He felt as if he were drawn to her orbit, helplessly trailing in the wake of her bright personality.  He didn’t mind in the slightest.  It didn’t hurt that over their last few meetings, she’d developed an easy, friendly report with his son.

            	True was, in fact, completely filthy.  He sprayed sand about as he bounced around the sandbox, digging and building sand piles.  Topaz didn’t shy away from the mess for a second, instead diving right in.

            	“True, that’s a deep hole!” she cooed to the foal.  “Can I help?”

            	“Yes!” True cheered.

            	“Okay.  Should I dig deeper?”

            	“No!” the foal called brightly.

            	“Well, what are we building, then?” Topaz asked.  True screwed his face up thoughtfully, plopping down into the sand on his rump as he considered.

            	“Hmm, the foreman has begun construction before the blueprint was completed,” Lofty mused with a smirk.

            	“Quiet, you,” Topaz scolded.  “This is so cute.  True, should we build a castle?”

            	“Yeah!” True clopped his hooves together brightly.

            	“Okay, well, since you’re so good at digging holes, maybe you should make the moat?” Topaz suggested.  “I’ll get to work on the walls.”

            	“What’s a moat?” True asked, and Topaz immediately went to work showing him how to make a sand moat. The playground sandbox was such a different world from a sophisticated reception ball, and yet Topaz seemed just as comfortable and in her element playing with a foal as she had when he’d first met her.

            	Watching her interact with his son, Lofty was absolutely enchanted.  She brought a warmth to his chest, a glowing light inside that spilled out in the form of a smile that would not leave his lips. He found himself lost in her eyes, the musical sound of her laughter... 

He shook his head, suddenly unsettled. The feelings that stirred within him were distressingly familiar, the same feelings that he had felt for Emberglow, all that time ago. This would be no passing infatuation — he had fallen for Topaz utterly and hopelessly. He realized this, understanding it with a certainty that gripped his chest with a sudden fear. 

Love was a dangerous thing, and especially so for him.  Any pony connected with him would be caught up in the trouble that seemed to float around him constantly.  But what could he do?  He could hardly try to distance himself; whichever shadowy Knights Mystic Sir Tarpit was in contact with would certainly be upset.

            	Topaz looked over and seemed to notice something in his expression.  There were questions in her eyes, but he shook his head slightly. There was a time and place for discussions such as these, and he certainly didn’t want to speak of what he was thinking about here.

Shrugging, she beckoned him over.  “C’mon, Lofty.  It’s your job to build the bailey.”  He leaned down to start playing in the sand, and Topaz darted over to give him a sudden peck on the cheek.  His expression must have been funny, because she laughed.

            	“What was that for?” he asked.

            	“You looked upset, like you needed a smile.”  She said it matter-of-factly, with a bright smile, and his worries faded a bit.  “You okay?”

            	“I’m fine.” He shook his head, and glanced significantly at True.  “Now, Foreman True, how should I build the bailey?”


*   *   *   *   *


            	True was reluctant to leave the masterpiece of toddler architecture he had created in the sandbox, but on the promise of frosty treats, Lofty managed to convince him to head home.  The park was busy enough that various food and treat vendors were scattered about, and it was easy enough for Lofty to find an ice cream vendor and pick out a cone for True.

            	“Now he can be sandy and sticky,” he remarked to Topaz as he gave the vendor a few bits for a foal-sized cone.

            	“We already know how much he appreciates bafftime,” Topaz commented, and the two adults shared a laugh.  They began strolling towards the Everfree Cathedral, Lofty leading the way and Topaz walking beside True.

            	“This isn’t the cathedral you attend, is it?” she asked, leaning over with one hoof to realign True’s ice cream cone before there could be a tragedy.

            	“No, not regularly. Each pony is usually assigned a cathedral close to their home, but all are open to anypony who needs to step in for a quiet moment with the Saints.  I’ve been to the Everfree building a few times.  It’s beautiful, and quite peaceful.”

            	Most cathedrals towered over the buildings around them, but the Everfree Cathedral instead incorporated itself comfortably into the foliage around it. While all the other cathedrals seemed to have been built to instill awe in its occupants, this one just projected its own brand of quiet wonder. He recalled that this particular cathedral was also Emberglow’s favorite. The three ponies walked inside (taking a brief moment with a handkerchief out of Lofty’s pocket to clean the worst of the ice cream disaster from True’s muzzle).

            	The green interior of the cathedral was silent and still; there was only one other pony present, kneeling in front of the statue of Saint Rarity.  It was an earth pony mare with a red mane, complete with a pink streak, wearing a pale linen dress.  Lofty thought she looked vaguely familiar, but she was deep in prayer, and he didn’t want to disturb her.

            	“So, you can just come in and pray to whichever Saint you want?” Topaz whispered to Lofty.  He nodded.

            	“You sit in the middle if you’re making a general prayer, but most ponies pray to specific Saints.”

            	“Who do you pray to for your friend?”

            	“Saint Rarity.  Emberglow was a member of her Knight order.” Lofty began making his way towards the statue of Rarity.

            	Suddenly the praying pony’s ears perked up, and she jerked to her hooves, spinning to face them.  The light of recognition suddenly turned on in Lofty’s memory; it was Emberglow’s mother.  He’d met her briefly, once, several months ago.  Before True’s mother had showed up at his door.

            	“Did you say Emberglow?” she gasped, rushing over so quickly that Topaz flinched back. 

            	“You’re Needle Point, right?” Lofty said softly, looking around the room.  There was nopony else there, but he was still reluctant to make a scene.  “I’m a friend.  We met once, very briefly.  I’m Lofty Tale.”

            	“Sir Lofty!” Needle Point gasped in recognition.

            	Lofty shook his head sadly.  “Just Lofty, now, ma’am.  I’m no longer a Knight.”

            	“But… um…” Needle Point stammered, glancing about nervously.  “How…” She took a deep breath, appearing to collect her thoughts.  “Have you… have you had any word?  About my daughter?”  Her voice broke Lofty’s heart, and her eyes were full of hope and bitter tears.  She reached out, desperately grasping him about the shoulders.

            	“I… um, I’m so sorry.”  Guilt burned in his chest, and the lie stuck in his throat.  He did have word.  But there was no way he could tell Emberglow’s mother.  “No, I don’t have any word.”

            	“No…” Needle Point whispered.  “No, it can’t be…”

            	“I’m sorry, Ms. Needle Point.  I wish there was something I could tell you,” Lofty whispered.

            	Needle Point sighed, letting out a sob.  “I’m sorry.” She sniffled.  “I didn’t mean to pounce on you like that.  I’m just so…” She waved a hoof, trailing off sadly.

            	“I understand.  She was a dear friend to me, ma’am.”  He gestured at True and Topaz.  “We were just coming to pray for her safety.”

            	“You were?” Needle Point blinked, and with a blush of embarrassment, reached into a pocket in her dress to pull out a handkerchief.  She dabbed at her eyes.  “That’s so kind of you, Lofty. Um…”

            	“I’d like to introduce you to Ambassador Topaz Glitter of the Northern Empire, and to my son, True Tale.  We were just on our way home from the playground, and I wanted to stop in and say something for Emberglow.”

            	“I had icecream!” True chimed in, having no sense of the room’s mood.  Needle Point gave a startled laugh, and leaned down so she was eye level with the colt. 

            	 “Ice cream?  Well, you deserve it, young colt.  Such a thoughtful foal, to come with your daddy to pray for my daughter.”

            	“He’s a good boy,” Lofty patted his son on the head, who was beaming.  Lofty was sure True had no idea why he was being complimented, but True clearly didn’t mind the positive attention.

            	“Thank you too, Miss… Glitter,” Needle Point said, much more cautiously, to Topaz.  Topaz curtsied gracefully.  “My daughter Emberglow was squiring for the Knight who was working on opening relations between your country and ours.  If she were here now, she’d be delighted to meet you.”

            	“She was the squire for Ambassador Turquoise?” Topaz asked.  “I never met the ambassador. We both left for our respective posts at around the same time.  I’ve heard positive things, though.”

            	“She is a kind soul.  The perfect mentor for my Emberglow.”  Needle Point sighed.  “It’s kind of you to come as well,” she said.  “Even if you don’t share our faith.”  She sounded deeply uncomfortable at the end.

            	“No matter what my faith is, I can still hope for a happy resolution for your daughter,” Topaz said kindly, and a bit of the discomfort faded from Needle Point’s face.

            	“Thank you,” Needle Point said, bowing awkwardly.  “Thank you both.  I… I should go.  I’m sorry I’ve been taking your time.  I should leave you to your own prayers.”  She took a step towards the exit, but hesitated.  “Emberglow spoke of you, a few times, Lofty.  I… I don’t know what happened, to make you leave the Knighthood, but I don’t care.  You can come by our shop any time, and find welcome.”

            	“Thank you.” Lofty felt a lump in his throat.  Her offer was so genuine, so honest, and he hadn’t been.  He couldn’t be.  But there was something about the complete and utter lack of judgement in her offer that touched him deeply.  “I’ll stop by sometime.”

            	“You do that,” Needle Point said firmly, and Lofty grinned at the motherly command.  “I’ll get out of your manes, then.  Saints bless you all.”

            	With a wave, Needle Point left them alone in the small cathedral.  Topaz’ eyes never left Lofty’s.  They were full of concern.

            	“That was hard for you,” she whispered, and Lofty nodded.

            	“C’mon.  Let’s go pray.”  He didn’t want to speak about it.  At least not right now.  He led True and Topaz up to the statue of Saint Rarity.

            	“So what do I say?” Topaz whispered. 

            	Lofty glanced at her in surprise.  “You’ve never prayed before?” It seemed alien to him; prayer was something he’d been doing his entire life, and yet it was a brand new experience for her.  

It made him wonder; she didn’t believe any of this.  He didn’t even think he did, not any longer.  Why was she even going through the motions?

            	“Never.”

            	“We believe that the Saints can respond to our earnest requests, if it is their will,” Lofty said, then he turned towards the statue of Saint Rarity.  “Saint Rarity, your children need your help.  We are heartsick with worry about your child, Lady Emberglow.  We don’t know where she is, or what she’s going through.  Can you keep her safe?  Keep her from harm, if it is your will.  All Saints keep us.”

            	“Um, Saint Rarity?” Topaz prayed awkwardly.  “I don’t know if you’re listening.  I haven’t even met Emberglow.  But whatever she’s doing, she needs your help.  Could you keep her safe, please?”  She glanced at Lofty, who nodded.

            	“Just like that,” Lofty said.  He honestly couldn’t put his conflicted thoughts into words.  On the one hand, prayer had always been a comfort to him.  But what did it matter now, given what he knew about the real Rarity?  “True, would you like to pray?”

            	True toddled up to the statue.

            	“Saints keep us,” he mumbled reverently, his young gaze on the tall stone figures above him.  Lofty suddenly felt another pang of uncertainty; what was he now going to teach his son?  A belief system that he knew was a lie?  But if he didn’t, True would never be safe.

            	Lofty had never considered himself the most faithful of ponies, but leaving a cathedral after an earnest prayer had always lifted his spirits and calmed his worries.  Now, he simply felt unsettled. There was a gap in his soul, a vast chasm, and Lofty was terrified it would never be filled.


*   *   *   *   *


            	“Same hill, huh?”

            	Lofty was dreaming again.  He hadn’t even realized he’d been dreaming, and that his dream had created the same starry hill, until he heard Topaz’ voice.

            	“I guess it is,” he said, turning to face her.  She was once again unclad, except for the same jewelry she had worn last time.  Rather than making him nervous, though, it filled him with desire and anticipation.  She noticed his appreciative look and glowed under his attention.  He smirked slyly. “Sorry, would you prefer somewhere more comfortable?”

            	“Lofty!” She rose a hoof to her mouth dramatically.  “Did you just invite me to your bedroom?  How scandalous!”

            	“That would indeed get me in trouble,” Lofty noted.  “If we were in fact going to my actual room.” He made a dramatic flourish with his hoof, and suddenly the scenery changed to Lofty’s bedroom.  Topaz gave a yelp of surprise, and for an instant Lofty was worried he’d overstepped, until Topaz started laughing.

            	“Oh dear,” she giggled.  “You might be moving a little quickly, colt.”  Lofty smiled back, and with a shrug, returned the dream to the hill they’d started on.  Topaz glanced around, then stepped in close to him.  “Not that I mind, really, but we do have business to talk about.”

            	“Yes,” he said, putting his libido on hold in favor of his curiosity.  “I want to know about this.”  He gestured at her.  “How do you do this?”

            	“You mean dream walking?” she said.  “Honestly, I don’t have a lot of answers for you, Lofty.  I know so little myself, and most of what I do know is second- or third-hoof.  Princess Luna was the greatest dream walker of all time, and I’ve only dreamed about her once.”

            	“Only once?  How did you learn, then?”

            	“According to…” She paused, eyeing him carefully.  “According to my mentor, it’s something you have to be born to.  It may have something to do with—“ She came to a very sudden halt, and her eyes searched his.

            	“What is it?” he asked, suddenly nervous.

            	“I—“ She glanced up at the stars.  “I want to hear about her.  Tell me about Luna.”

            	So he did.  He told her about the first dream he’d had, right after Emberglow’s rejection.  He told her about his dreams in Old Canterlot, and the nighttime venture that led him and Emberglow into the ruined city, and the skeletal pony they found.  Topaz gasped when he spoke about it, but waited patiently as he told the rest of the story.

            	“I’ve dreamed about her after Old Canterlot, but nothing substantive,” he admitted.  “No real conversations, just impressions.”  He paused.  “I dreamed of her once after I took in True.  I felt bolstered.  As if she were silently approving of me, and my son.”

            	When he finished speaking, Topaz was clearly itching to ask questions, practically vibrating with excitement. 

            	“Can I ask questions now?” she asked with an excited grin, and Lofty nodded.  “Okay.  Wow.  Sorry, I know I was being cagey earlier.  It’s hard to know who I can trust.  But wow.  You’ve met Starlight Glimmer.”

            	“Starlight Glimmer?”

            	“It’s the only explanation for the pony you met.” Topaz nodded confidently.  “Empress Cadence tasked me with finding her, if I could.”

            	“E-empress Cadence?” Lofty felt like he was flailing about.  Topaz gave him an apologetic look, patting him on the shoulder.

            	“Sorry.  I’ll go back to fill in the gaps.  It’s my turn for a story.”  She paused, and her smile brightened.  “Or... maybe I could show you!”

“Show me?” Lofty still felt lost.

“Close your eyes, Lofty,” Topaz said, reaching out and taking his hoof.  He complied warily, though he did like the warmth he felt from her touch, even in his dream.  A second later, he felt her lips on his, and he jerked his eyes open in shock.  

“Sorry,” she giggled.  “Couldn’t help myself.  Now really, close your eyes, and try to clear your mind of all thoughts except me.  I’m going to try to bring you into my dream, rather than me visiting yours.”

“So just stand here, and fantasize about the sexy mare that keeps kissing me?” Lofty teased, and when Topaz laughed back he felt her breath, warm on his neck and ear.  “That sounds super easy and fun.”  

A hoof draped around his shoulders, and he felt something change around him.  There was a dizzying sensation, as if the entire world had dropped out from underneath him for a second.  He stumbled, but before he could take stock of the sensation, he felt solid ground beneath his hooves.  It wasn’t the grassy earth of before, but instead felt like... carpet?

“Open your eyes, lovercolt,” Topaz’s voice said.  “Welcome to the Crystal Palace.  Well, the one in my dreams, at least.”

He did as she asked, and gasped at the beauty that surrounded him.  The walls were made of crystal, luminescent indigo and violet and blue.  The floor was a perfectly kept carpet.  To the left and right were a pair of shrines, with busts of unicorns.  One was familiar; Lofty realized he was looking at the true, unicorn form of Twilight Sparkle.  The other was a unicorn he didn’t recognize, a stallion with a small smile.  The walls around the shrines were covered with crayon drawings, most of which depicted a pink mare with wings and a horn.

The room’s centerpiece was the mare from the pictures.  To Lofty, the mare looked drained.  Dark bags of exhaustion sat underneath each closed eyelid, and he thought he could see the outline of her ribcage.  Her forehooves rested upon a device of some sort.  It looked like a heart made of crystal, resting in a framework that seemed to be made of solidified yellowish green amber.  A pair of cloth straps held the mare’s hooves to the device, though it didn’t look like she was held against her will.

“So this is a memory,” Topaz said warningly.  “But memories in dreams aren’t perfect.  You’ll be seeing this from my recollections, but it will be tainted by my perceptions, my biases, and my own hindsight.” She smirked.  “Please hold all your questions until the end of the lecture.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lofty mock-saluted, and Topaz giggled silently as she walked over to the mare on the pillows.  There was a sudden shift in the dream, a sort of jerking twist, and Topaz was ignoring him, as if he weren’t even there.  He suddenly felt out of place, like he was intruding in something private, and he had to remind himself that she had invited him here.

“Good to see you again, Topaz,” the winged unicorn mare rasped.  Topaz bowed low, and the mare laughed.  “None of that.  Did you bring what I asked?”

“Yeah,” Topaz said, after nuzzling the mare familiarly.  Lofty suddenly realized she was wearing saddlebags.  She hadn’t been before.  She set her saddlebags down, pulling out a half-dozen glass bottles in a cardboard case.  “Escher wouldn’t let me pass without searching my bags.  He didn’t believe that you’d asked me to bring you something until I showed him the note from Princess Flurry.”

“Escher sounds like a dutiful guard,” the mare said.  “Next time, invite him in with you.”

“That would blow his mind,” Topaz burst into laughter.  “‘Hey, Escher, the Sovereign Goddess of the Crystal Empire wants to share a beer with you.  Wanna go AWOL from your duty so you can get smashed with the Empress?’”  She pulled a bottle opener out of the saddlebags and popped one of the bottles open, passing it over to the Empress before opening one for herself.  “So what’s the story here?  Why beer?”

“Shiny and I used to disguise ourselves and sneak out into the city and go bar hopping,” the Empress said, raising her bottle in salute to the bust of the male unicorn before taking a sip.  “Neither one of us was born to nobility.  We both appreciated the more” — she laughed — “low brow pleasures, like cold, cheap beer.”  She paused, her gaze unfocused.  “It’s been centuries since I could just sit down with somepony and have a real conversation.  Or share friendship over a cold drink.”  She glanced at the bottle, her snout twisting just slightly as she read the label.  “Imperial pale ale?  Hmm.  I thought you’d be more of a lager mare.”

“Who, me?” Topaz shrugged, taking a sip of her own.  “Nah.  IPA’s are fine, though I usually prefer wine.  Or hard cider.”

“I wish you could have tasted Sweet Apple Acres cider,” the Empress sighed.  “It was never the same after Big Mac and Applejack passed.”  She raised her bottle in another salute.

Lofty watched the scene unfold with a sort of bizarre detachment.  On the one hand, it was completely surreal to watch Topaz share a casual drink with an alicorn, a creature that defied belief.  On the other hand, it made the mysterious Empress seem completely and utterly real.

“Do you want to talk about them?” Topaz asked carefully.  “I-I mean, I know you don’t get to talk to ponies much.  Or at all, really.”  The Empress shook her head.

“No.  Not now, Topaz.  You’re sweet to offer, and I’ll probably take you up on that someday.”  The Empress’ eyes twinkled with amusement.  “You’re awfully bold for a therapist who’s still got wet ink on her diploma.  Trying to get your Empress to open up?”

“N-no!  I mean, if you want to, I-I…” Topaz’s voice twisted with panic.  “I’d never p-presume…”

“Relax, Topaz.  I’m only teasing you.” The Empress reached out and patted Topaz with a hoof.  “I would love to tell you all about my friends someday, but we have limited time.  I wanted to ask about your dream walking.”

“I’m sorry.” Topaz’ head sunk in shame.  “I don’t… I can’t do any more than lucid dreaming yet.  Are you sure I can do what… what you say I can?”

“How often do you lucid dream?” the Empress insisted, ignoring Topaz’ question.

“Um, every night, now,” Topaz said.

“Then you’re progressing nicely.  Much more quickly than Auntie Luna.  She once told me it took three decades of practice before she could consistently control her own dreams every night.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” Topaz blushed.

“Not at all.  I’ll be expecting to speak with you in my own dreams, soon enough.”  She took a long pull from her bottle, giving out a satisfied sigh afterwards.  Once again, Lofty was struck by just how normal and down-to-earth the Empress seemed.  “I wish I could help you more.  I was never born with the talent.”

“Can I ask you something?” Topaz sounded worried.  The Empress nodded.  “Why are we pushing so fast?”

“Because dreams will be the only way we can communicate, when you’re down south in the Diarchy.” The Empress was matter-of-fact, but Lofty saw Topaz’ jaw drop.

“Down… but how… I’m not planning on…”

“Please, Topaz.  I need you to go.  You need to be my eyes and hooves down south.” The Empress was pleading, her rough voice earnest.  “Even if I were to stop powering the Apparatus, and brought the shield down, I still would not be able to go myself.  It’s not my destiny to help save the world, it’s yours.”

“You mean, because of the Element of Harmony I bear?” Topaz asked, and Lofty gasped.  Element of Harmony?  Topaz had an Element of Harmony?  Now he understood why she’d told him to hold his questions until the end.

“There will be five others. You’ll need to find them, to connect with them.  If you can reach out and touch their dreams, it will be easier.  If you can reach out to mine, we’ll be able to stay in touch.”

“I need to find them?” Topaz’s voice was sinking.  “Empress Cadence, I’m no leader.”

“Perhaps I misspoke,” the Empress said thoughtfully.  “It will not be your destiny to gather the Elements and their bearers, but you do need to connect with them.  I don’t know for sure, but I think they’ll be having their own adventures, and their own trials.  But with your inborn talent for walking dreams, you’ll be the connection that binds them all together, even though they may be separated by physical distance.  Don’t worry, you won’t have to lead them; that role goes to the Element of Magic.”

“Do you know who that will be?” Topaz asked, but the Empress shook her head.

“I don’t have any idea, really,” she said.  “It doesn’t matter, though.  Whoever it is will fulfill their destiny, I’m sure.  But that’s not the only thing I need you to take care of down south.”

The Empress’ tired gaze drifted slowly to the other shrine in the room, the bust of Twilight Sparkle.  Her voice grew soft and distant, and Lofty wanted to reach out and comfort her.

“There is so much wrong down south that it would be impossible to fix everything,” she said.  “Trying to change their society would be like treating symptoms, while leaving the disease unchecked.  Your destiny will be to cure the disease, but at the same time, there’s at least some wrongs you could right, if you try.”

“Anything for you, Empress,” Topaz said reverently, and the Empress beamed.

“There is a mare.  Her name was Starlight Glimmer, and she was a friend.  One of the last things Twilight asked me to do was to try and find her, and help her.”

“Empress, that was hundreds of years ago, right?” Topaz sounded confused.  “Wouldn’t anypony alive back then be, um, dead?”

“I was alive back then, young mare,” the Empress said chidingly.  “So was Princess Flurry.”

“So this Starlight Glimmer is an alicorn?”

“No,” the Empress said, her ears drooping slightly as she looked away.  “She took a different path to immortality.  Dark magic, though I’m sure she would regret it now, if she even remembered.”

“What do you mean?” Topaz asked, but Lofty found himself nodding along.  This was starting to sound like the creature he’d met in Old Canterlot.

“It was a forbidden spell.  Wicked, twisted magic that allowed a pony to live far beyond their own lifespan, powered by the pain and loss of other ponies.  Only Starlight Glimmer was too good, too kind, to pay the price with the pain of others.  She decided to use her own, and modified the spell so that she could pay with her own memories.”

“Her own memories?” Topaz recoiled.  “What does that mean?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like,” the Empress said.  “Every time she cast the spell, she gave up memories.  Sometimes hours of memory, sometimes even days or years.  In the end, she got what she felt like she needed; an eternity alive, at the expense of nearly every memory she held.  Every friendship, every happy moment, every good time gone.”  She took a long drink from her bottle, tipping it far back to get the last few drops before gesturing for another.

“Why did she do it?” Topaz asked breathlessly as she hurriedly opened a second bottle for the Empress.

“Guilt.  Twilight asked her to go to Manehatten, to observe an experiment at the university there.  She was sick with the flu, so she asked Rarity to go in her place.  There was an explosion, and Rarity was lost.

“Starlight blamed herself.  For decades, she dedicated herself to trying to find Rarity.  She was convinced Rarity was still alive, somewhere.  Her friendships fell apart, her health, I think even her sanity. She even created a bit of sentient dream magic, a ‘tantabus’, to torture herself in her own dreams.  Finally Twilight found out about the memory spell and the tantabus. She and Starlight fought, bitterly, and Twilight banished her from Ponyville.  It was the last time they ever spoke.  Twilight regretted it instantly.  It was one of the last things Twilight asked of me, to try and find Starlight and apologize.  Maybe even help her, however I can.”  Lofty could see the twinkle of unshed tears in the Empress’ eyes.

“But then everything else happened.  The Empire declared independence from the Diarchy, and the shield went up.  I couldn’t do anything.”  Topaz reached out tentatively to the Empress, and was pulled into a tight embrace.  “I have many regrets over my many long years, but this one eats at me, Topaz.”

“What do you need me to do?” Topaz said.  Lofty could see the love and affection in Topaz’ eyes.  “Where can I find this Starlight Glimmer?”

“I think she’s down south.  I’ve instructed Flurry to ask our intelligence agents to look out for her.”  The Empress sighed.  “She’ll be hidden, but you’ll know her when you see her.  No pony body, besides an alicorn one, was designed to live this long.  She’ll be nothing more than bones and magic, held together by an iron-strong willpower and crushing guilt.  She’ll be lingering in places connected to Rarity.

“It has to be you, Topaz. Your talent for walking dreams will allow you to enter her dreaming mind and exorcise the foul creature she created to scourge herself.  You will be able to bring laughter to Starlight Glimmer.”

The voices of Topaz and the Empress began to fade.  The entire room was growing hazy, and suddenly the dream Topaz stood up, and trotted over to Lofty as her bottle disappeared into mist.  The expression on her face was nervous, perhaps even a bit frightened as she approached.

“Please tell me I didn’t just mess something up,” Topaz breathed.  “Please tell me I can trust you, that I didn’t just share some of my deepest secrets with a pony that’s going to turn me over to the nearest inquisitor.”  Lofty smiled at her.  His thoughts were churning, his brain was overflowing with thoughts and ideas, but he simply reached out and took hold of her shoulders, pulling their faces close.

“Not only are your secrets safe with me, Topaz,” he said, excitement growing in his chest.  “I think I can help you fulfill your mission.  I can take you to Starlight Glimmer.”
> Chapter 32
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 32


Letter, sent from the desk of Grand Master Nickelplate, Knights Mystic

Sir Steadfast-

Multiple questions have been raised as to your culpability in both the loss of an important heretic prisoner, and your foolish decision to remove an irreplaceable artifact from the vault and bring it with you.  Your failure to locate the object you were sent to find is disheartening.  You are ordered to return to New Canterlot City immediately and report on your lack of progress.

Your request to be placed in charge of the investigation into Heretic Emberglow is denied.  You are ordered to turn over all relevant documents, evidence, and testimony to Lady Hollybright, who will be heading the investigation.

Yours in the faith,

Grand Master Nickelplate

1113 AF, Angel’s Rest

            	“You all know this is unnecessary,” Emberglow growled with indignation at the stretcher she was laid out on.

            	“Nonsense, darling.  You’re injured.”

            	“I can walk.”

            	“Maybe.”  Rarity’s voice was sing-song.  “But actions have consequences.  You thought you could sacrifice yourself for us, even when I went to all that trouble to save you.  And then you went and got yourself injured, and even…” She drew a harsh, shuddering breath, refusing to say the last word.

            	“I’m… just glad you knew CPR,” Emberglow said awkwardly, reluctantly lying back in her stretcher.  “You saved my life.”

            	“And you’re going to pay me back by being a good filly and staying in your stretcher without complaint,” Rarity commanded, causing Emberglow to flinch.

            	“Yes, ma’am.” Emberglow made her voice small, and Rarity beamed at her.

            	“There, I knew you could be reasonable.  Just lie tight, we’ll be at the doctor’s office soon.”

            	Emberglow didn’t want to lie tight.  She wanted to get up, to look around, even fly around, and explore this fascinating new city she’d come to.  Angel’s Rest was an underground city, complete with enchantments to mimic the sun shining out of crystalline structures in the tall, arching ceiling.  There had been secret tunnels and security checks on the way in, and she’d barely seen any of it because she had been stuck on a stretcher. How did a place like this even function, buried with a rock ceiling overhead instead of sky? And those massive stalagmites and stalactites she had seen on the way in — were there ponies living in those? Her curiosity burned, and was almost enough to make her leap off the stretcher and start flitting around with excitement. 

Still, she didn’t want to do anything to disappoint Rarity, especially since she was probably right. Emberglow had been technically dead, after all. Rest would probably do her well. So she did the best she could, taking in the sights and sounds of the city from her limited perspective while being hauled about like luggage between Cobalt and Rarity.

            	It was the ponies, or rather, the creatures, of Angel’s Rest that Emberglow found most curious.  It wasn’t just ponies, but griffons and zebras and minotaurs, even a few smaller dragons flitting about.  Ponies made up the majority, but the mélange of mixed beings seemed so effortless and natural.  She thought she’d feel nervous to be around the other species, but she didn't sense any animosity from them, just curiosity and compassion for her injuries.

            	“This place is unbelievable,” she whispered, just loud enough that Rarity and Cobalt could hear.  Maybe if she was speaking, she wouldn’t have to think too hard about what was happening to her life.  She couldn’t help, however, reaching up with one hoof to idly touch the new piece of jewelry that encircled her neck.  It still didn’t seem real.

            	“It’s pretty incredible,” Cobalt agreed.  He glanced around, nodding politely to the ponies and other creatures who were staring at the odd procession.  “Not only do we have all the pony races in harmony here, but creatures like me can find friendship, acceptance, and peace.  It’s why I stayed.”

            	“The city is why you stayed?” Rarity asked slyly.  “That’s not how I heard the story.”

            	“Heh, you heard about that?” Cobalt laughed.  “Maybe it’s more accurate to say the city is a part of why I stayed.”

            	“Tell me, please,” Emberglow said.  “I need something to take my mind off…” She trailed off, waving a hoof vaguely at the bandage covering her eye.

            	“Of course,” Cobalt said kindly.  “The Knights Discordant have an officer exchange program with the griffons.  I came over about seventeen years ago, and became close friends with Heartwing.  But more importantly, there was a mare. So when my time was up, I requested to stay.  My government was more than happy to comply when they found out I’d be getting married.”

            	“You’re married to a pony?” Emberglow asked.  It was sweet, now that she knew more about the griffons beyond what the Diarchy preached. Inadvertently, she thought of Bubblegum, and the horror and disgust she’d felt when she caught the Knight Adamant in bed with a griffon lover.  She wanted to hide her face in shame.

            	“For fifteen blissful years now.  We even have a foal we adopted together, though she’s grown now. My wife, Pastel Paint is a nurse, you’ll probably meet her at the hospital if she’s on shift,” Cobalt’s face was out of view, but Emberglow could hear the smile in his voice.

            	“So there’s nothing wrong with ponies being with other creatures here?” she asked.  Emberglow had already guessed that, but she wanted to have it confirmed.

            	“Not in the slightest,” Cobalt said with conviction.  “Love is love, and as long as all the parties are consenting adults nobody cares who you’re with.”  Emberglow nodded.  “One word of warning, though.  Some ponies go straight from the repression and denial taught by the Diarchy to hedonism, with no barriers or boundaries.  If that’s what you choose, that’s your choice.  But I don’t recommend it.  It often leads to regrets.”

            	“I don’t think I have to worry about that.” Emberglow thought for a moment, then blushed brightly.  “So, um, even mares can be with other mares?”

            	“Of course,” Cobalt said, glancing back at her with a knowing smile on his beak.  “Everypony is loved and valued, regardless of who they love.  When you’re ready, and if you’re interested in relationships, you’ll find plenty of mares, or even females of other species, who would be very excited to meet you.”

            	“Oh.”  Emberglow felt her face heating up.  She didn’t know what else to say; the possibility of actually having a romantic relationship with somepony was something she’d never allowed herself to consider.

Not even with me?

            	Gadget’s voice in her head startled her into a pained whimper.  It drew both Rarity and Cobalt’s attention, and they both stopped to look at her with concern. 

            	“Is everything okay?” Rarity asked.  “Did we hurt you, dear?”

            	“No, no,” Emberglow shook her head frantically, wincing at the headache that began at the sudden motion.  She had to resist reaching up to the bandage that still covered her eye. “Not more than normal.  Just bad memories, is all.”

That’s all it is?  Bad memories?  Or maybe you’re just a crazy mare with voices in your head.

            	“You’re in a safe place, Emberglow,” Cobalt said as they continued on their way towards the hospital.  “You’ve probably got a billion questions, but no matter what, remember that.  You’re in a safe place where you can be yourself.  You don’t have to hide that part of you any longer.”

            	Emberglow had already assumed as much, from her conversations with Heartwing.  But for some reason, hearing it stated so simply hit her hard in the chest.  She curled up from the strength of her emotions, holding her face in her hooves. Soon, she felt a heaving sob push itself from her lungs, and a growing wetness across her hooves as she wept.  She felt like a dishrag, squeezed and wringed out.  Weeks of tension, followed by days of torture and a harrowing escape, and now suddenly she was safe?  With each sob, it was as if her entire body was reacting violently to the alien idea.

            	“Emberglow!” Rarity called out in shock, but Emberglow waved a tear-soaked hoof at her.

            	“I-I’m fine, I’m f-fine,” Emberglow laughed while she sobbed.  “I’m fine, really.”  She didn’t even know what she meant, or if she really was fine.  The words were automatic; Emberglow didn’t even know what she was supposed to be feeling at the moment.  She knew she didn’t want her new friends worrying about her, though.  “Please, we can continue.  Don’t worry about me.”

            	“What you’re going through is normal,” Cobalt said.  “Terminus will stop by the hospital when he’s done reporting to Heartwing.  He’s the expert on the process of transitioning away from your former faith.  He’s good at it.”

            	“Okay,” Emberglow said hoarsely through her tears. Then, suddenly self-conscious, she added, “You both probably think I’m silly.”

            	“Not in the slightest, darling,” Rarity declared firmly.  “You cry your heart out if you need to.  We’re here for you.”  From somewhere in Rarity’s clothing, a handkerchief levitated out and into Emberglow’s hooves.

            	“Thanks,” she said, and silently wiped at her eye. Inside, her emotions still felt like a raging storm, but she managed to contain herself for now. 

            	“I’ve spent some time speaking with Sir Terminus, Emberglow,” Rarity said after Emberglow wiped her tears dry.  “He’s very insightful, and an utter sweetheart besides.  You’ll listen to his advice, won’t you?”

            	“Yeah.  We spoke a bit on the way back.”  Emberglow had already been thinking about the few things he’d shared.  “He seems like he knows what he’s talking about.”

            	“He does,” Cobalt said.  “Ah. Here we are.  Angel’s Rest Hospital.”

            	Emberglow looked over at the three story brick building they’d stopped in front of.  The only thing setting it apart from the rest of the buildings around it was a symbol over the door; a red cross on a white field.  She could see hospital beds and equipment through the wide, clear windows.

            	“Hospital?” she asked skeptically.

            	“I know it’s not big,” Cobalt said.  “Between healing spells and our relatively small population, we don’t tend to need much.  We only have three doctors, after all.”

            	“Any of them former Radiants?” Emberglow didn't know whether to be hopeful or not.  She wasn’t sure what it would be like, meeting sisters who had been through the same journey she was on.

            	“No.  Doctor Plasma used to be an Adamant, though.  She was trained in first aid and battlefield medicine.  There’s only two former Radiants active in the Discordant right now, and both of them operate in the field, rather than staying back here in the city.  But you can hear all about that later. For now, let’s get you in and checked out.”

            	The reception area of the hospital was mostly empty.  It definitely smelled like a hospital, though — the scents of disinfectant and bleach, with tiny hints of something vaguely metallic, brought back memories of her practical classes during med school.  The receptionist was an older earth pony stallion, who surged to his hooves when the three of them entered the room.

            	“Sir Cobalt!  Wounded?” the pony called out, rushing around the counter to try to help.

            	“Urgent, but not an emergency.  Can you have Doctor Plasma meet us in the urgent care room?”

            	“I’ll let her know as soon as she gets back.  She had to head off for a house call; Doctor Honeysuckle needed help setting up her ramp.”

            	“Oh, right,” Cobalt said.  “I forgot Honeysuckle broke her leg.  Is everything okay?”

            	“She’s doing fine, Doctor Plasma is just being her usual meddling self.  Needed to make sure Doctor Honeysuckle was following her restrictions and her PT regimen.  You know how doctors can be.” The receptionist laughed.  “Come on to the back, I’ll get you set up in the urgent care room.”

            	They followed the receptionist back into a smaller room, this one with two hospital beds separated by a curtain, though it was retracted.  There was another figure in the room; a griffon sitting in a chair near the second hospital bed.  He was oddly familiar, though Emberglow couldn’t place from where.

            	“Need help?” he started to rise from his seat, but Cobalt shook his head.

            	“She should be able to make it into the bed on her own.  Thanks for offering, though.”

            	“You mean I’m allowed to move from the stretcher to the bed under my own power?” Emberglow asked sarcastically. 

Rarity nodded graciously, ignoring the snark. “As long as you don’t strain yourself, darling.”

            	“I’ll work on that,” Emberglow laughed.  They set the stretcher next to the bed, and Emberglow stood up, carefully maneuvering stiff and sore limbs to climb into the bed.  Her eye ached, and her chest hurt, but not as much as it had when she woke up in a panic after her fight with the Adamant.

Yes, don’t forget that you’re a killer.

            	She did her best to shake off the voice in her head.

            	“If one of your helpers will come with me and begin filling out your paperwork, Miss…” the receptionist began.

            	“Emberglow.”

            	“Miss Emberglow,” he finished.  “I’ll send a nurse in with some forms for you, too.”  He eyed Cobalt critically.  “You’ll not distract Paint if I send her, will you?”  Cobalt laughed.

            	“Not in the slightest.  Take this pretty unicorn with you to start your paperwork, I’ll wait here for Paint.”  Rarity giggled and rolled her eyes at the compliment, though Emberglow agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly.

            	“Be good for the doctors and nurses,” Rarity admonished as she followed the receptionist out of the room.  Emberglow found herself nodding, for a moment lost in the earnest concern in those sapphire eyes.

            	“How’s your wife doing?” Cobalt asked the other griffon once Rarity and the receptionist were gone.  The griffon shrugged.

            	“As well as could be expected.  Doctor Plasma’s worried about pre-term labor, and complications due to the tribe shift procedure.  She’s handling it poorly, too.”

            	“Where is she at right now?” Cobalt asked, and the griffon pointed at a small closed door opposite the beds.

            	“Washroom.  Poor girl.  Pregnancy’s been really rough for her.”  They heard the sound of a toilet flushing and a sink running, and the door opened.  A heavily pregnant mare, with very familiar cream fur and a frighteningly familiar black mane with pink streak, dressed in a green hospital gown and wearing a face mask, stepped out.  She glanced around the room, and her surprised eyes lit on Emberglow.  Suddenly Emberglow gasped, her breath caught in her throat.  She remembered where she’d seen the other griffon before.

            	“Emberglow!” Bubblegum cried out cheerfully.  She bound clumsily over to the bed.  Emberglow had no warning as Bubblegum’s hoof flew towards her face, impacting painfully against her jaw.  For an instant she saw stars, sparkling fuzz at the edges of her vision.  The blow turned her head away from Bubblegum, and for a moment she was utterly disoriented.  There was shouting, and a scream of pain and rage.  Somepony was standing above her, and somepony else was struggling with Bubblegum.  Emberglow blinked a few times to clear her vision, working her jaw painfully for a moment before she turned her head.

            	Cobalt and the other griffon were on either side of Bubblegum, who was still straining to assault Emberglow.  Each one had their claws wrapped around one of her forehooves, as Bubblegum strained to try and escape their grasp.

            	“Lemme go!  Lemme go!  That’s the bitch that sold us out, Gallie!  She tried to have us killed!”

            	“Bubblegum!  Stand down!” Cobalt shouted.

            	“Rule three!  Rule three!” the other griffon was yelling desperately.

            	To add to the confusion, another pony rushed into the room when she heard the commotion.  She was a blue unicorn, with pastel pink paint-like splotches on her fur.  She was dressed in a white nurse uniform, and was carrying a clipboard, though she dropped it in shock as soon as she stepped into the room.

            	“What is going on in here?!” she shrieked.  “Cobalt, what are you doing with my patient?”

            	“She just tried to assault your other patient!” Cobalt yelled back.  The other griffon cringed.

            	“Bubblegum!  Get in your bed, right now!” the nurse stomped her hoof loudly on the tile floor of the hospital room.

            	“Please, love,” the other griffon pleaded, and suddenly Bubblegum slumped in their hold.  Emberglow couldn’t see her whole face, but her eyes looked sulky; it was an expression she was used to seeing on Bubblegum’s face.

            	“Fine.  But somepony needs to explain to me why she’s…” Bubblegum never got to finish her sentence.  Suddenly her eyes twisted in pain, and with a nauseating sort of liquid sound, vomited enough blood into her mask to stain it red from the other side.  She shriveled into a ball, collapsing onto the floor and twitching violently.  There was a gush of red, bloody liquid from her hindquarters; Emberglow realized with horrified certainty that Bubblegum’s water had just broke, and there was blood.

            	For a split second, everypony was frozen in shock.  The other griffon (Gallie, apparently, as Bubblegum had called him) stared openmouthed in horror, looking back and forth between Bubblegum and the nurse.  The nurse blinked a few times, then turned decisively to Cobalt.

            	“Go get Doctor Plasma.  She’s either at Honeysuckle’s, or on her way back by now.  Hurry!”

            	Cobalt didn’t hesitate for an instant, dashing out the door.  Emberglow flexed her sore limbs and rose from the bed as soon as he was gone.  “What are you…” the nurse demanded, glancing up at Emberglow.

            	“I’m a doctor. I’m a Radiant.  Do you have a rune gauntlet available?”

            	“But you’re in no shape…” The nurse’s eyes shot to the bandage that wrapped around Emberglow’s head, covering her wounded eye.

            	“Please, nurse!” Emberglow slid off the bed onto the floor, next to the prone Bubblegum.  She hurt all over, but it didn’t matter; somepony needed her craft.  Her analytical mind was taking over as adrenaline shoved her pain aside into a dull background ache.  “I need to know about the complications her… griffon mentioned, and I need a rune gauntlet as soon as possible.”

            	“Sorry, I…” the nurse stammered, surprised, but then shook her head as her own training took over.  “Galileo, there’s a spare in the storeroom.  In the cupboard, top shelf.”

            	The griffon, Galileo, dashed off without a word.  The nurse turned to Emberglow.

            	“You’re really a Radiant?”

            	“I… I was, until a few weeks ago,” Emberglow winced.  That wasn’t important now.  “I graduated medical school as well.  Tell me about the complications.”

            	“Her entire pregnancy has been problematic,” the nurse said, as Emberglow tried to help Bubblegum onto her side to begin a quick exam.  “Gestational diabetes, a compromised immune system, several instances of false labor…”

            	“He mentioned something about a…” she paused, trying tot remember what she’d heard.  “...tribe shift procedure?”

            	“It’s usually safe,” the nurse said, speaking quickly.  Emberglow motioned for the nurse’s stethoscope, and she handed it over.  “We cast a spell during fetal development to increase the odds of a unicorn birth.”

            	Emberglow decided to set aside, for the moment, the conversation about why anypony would cast such a spell to begin with.

            	“Bubblegum, can you hear me?” Emberglow asked, putting on the stethoscope.  Bubblegum’s breath was coming out in loud, bubbling rasps.  Emberglow removed her mask and positioned her muzzle and throat so she wouldn’t aspirate her own blood and vomit.  Bubblegum’s eyes were clenched shut.

            	“It hurts…” she whimpered desperately.

            	“Where does it hurt?”

            	“Inside… my foal, save my foal…”

            	“I’ll do my best, Bubblegum,” Emberglow promised.  She checked Bubblegum’s pulse; it was weak and irregular.  She slid her hooves down to check on Bubblegum’s dilation.  She was definitely in labor, and the foal was coming.  She felt at Bubblegum’s stomach, trying to gauge if the foal had moved into proper birthing position.

            	“Something is wrong.  The foal isn’t positioned properly in the birth canal,” Emberglow said.  “I can’t tell more without instruments or a gauntlet.”  Suddenly Bubblegum screamed again, a vicious, liquid sort of gargle as more blood fired out of her mouth.  Her hooves flailed about, battering against Emberglow.  “Can you keep her still?”  The nurse went about her business, trying to keep Bubblegum’s hooves still while mopping up blood and other fluids.

            	Galileo rushed into the room, dragging an archaic-looking rune gauntlet with him.  It looked much like the practice gauntlets Emberglow remembered from the Ivy Seminary: clunky and impractical.  She held out her hoof, and Galileo quickly helped her put the gauntlet on.

            	“Battery’s in?” Emberglow breathed, and Galileo nodded, his eyes frozen on Bubblegum.  “Did you—”

            	“It’s full.  What’s wrong with her?”

            	“We don’t know yet,” Emberglow answered as she quickly cast the familiar diagnosis spell.  Magical information flooded her brain, and her mind reeled while she tried desperately to keep a mask of professionalism on her face.

            	“What?  What is it!?” Galileo demanded desperately, seizing Emberglow by the shoulders.  The nurse gently took his claws and pushed him away.

            	“Please, Galileo.  Keep your distance.  We’ll do our best, but let the doctor work, okay?”  Emberglow was already drawing a second set of complicated runes; a spell for restoring lost blood.

            	“We’re going to need to deliver via cesarean,” Emberglow told the nurse.  “I think it’s prenatal acucornuschlerosis.”

            	“What is…” the nurse began, then shook her head.  “Cesarean.  Got it.  Galileo, help me get her into the bed.”

            	“Actually,” Emberglow had a sudden epiphany.  “Can you levitate her?  We need to keep her as steady as possible.  Prenatal acucornuschlerosis is the premature hardening of a unicorn foal’s horn in utero.  Bubblegum is bleeding out internally, probably because the foal’s horn has penetrated the uterine wall.  The foal can’t get out, and is doing more damage to Bubblegum in the process.”

            	“Celestia protect…” Galileo moaned, flopping limply against the floor.  Emberglow tried to ignore him.

            	“I can,” the nurse said.  Her horn lit up in a cerulean glow, and slowly slid over Bubblegum’s quivering body.  Ever so gently, Bubblegum was lifted up onto the closest bed, which just happened to be Emberglow’s.  Emberglow winced in discomfort as she stood to get beside the stricken mare.

            	“Is there a second gauntlet?  Can you cast?” she asked the nurse, who shook her head.  “Okay.  Please get the tools ready for surgery.”  Emberglow’s heart was pounding in her ears, and her stomach was doing flips.  She’d never even been at a live birth before, let alone a cesarean delivery.  The entirety of her experience was theoretical.  

This wasn't the time for second-guessing, however. Ruthlessly, she shoved her panic down. Cobalt would be on his way back with the actual doctor soon, and she’d just have to do her best to project confidence and keep Bubblegum and the foal alive until then.

            	As she stood, a sudden, violent wave of dizziness reminded Emberglow that she was still recovering from injury herself.  She reached out, steadying herself as best she could against the hospital bed.  The nurse rushed over, holding Emberglow by the shoulder.

            	“Are you okay?” she demanded.  Emberglow shook her head.

            	“No.  But when Doctor Plasma gets back, she’s going to operate.  I can’t,” Emberglow admitted.  “I’m not… fit.”  Her smile was grim.  “I should be lying down.  I’m pretty sure I died about a day ago.”  She raised her hoof again, casting an anesthesia spell.  Bubblegum was shaking and whimpering.

            	“Emberglow?” she whispered.  “Emberglow, my foal.  How’s my foal?”

            	“Your foal is fine, for now,” Emberglow lied.  Her foal had minutes left.  Bubblegum probably had less.

            	“Emberglow, I can’t feel my legs.  My hind hooves.  I can’t…”

            	“Shh, please relax, Bubblegum.  I’ve cast a pain relief spell.  We’re going to have to do some surgery, to help get the foal out, okay.  I want you to start counting back from ten.  Can you do that?”

            	“T-ten,” Bubblegum began.  “Ni-nine.  Ei…” her head slumped limply into the bed.

            	The nurse had wheeled over a cart full of surgical implements.  Emberglow glanced at the array of tools, and took a deep breath.  Spells to restore blood loss were a stopgap, and wouldn’t help the foal.  If the doctor didn’t walk through the door, Emberglow would have to do her best.  Her heart was pounding, and her eye ached fiercely.  She rested one of her hooves on the tray of instruments, trying to will it to stop trembling.

            	“Okay.  Have you assisted on cesarean procedures before, nurse?” Emberglow asked.  The nurse nodded.  “My knowledge of the process is more… theoretical.  But if we don’t start now…”

            	“I’m here!” shouted an unfamiliar voice.  A middle aged pegasus mare with a brilliant fuchsia coat and an almost blindingly neon orange mane burst into the room.  She wore a labcoat, a rune gauntlet, and an ineffable aura of authority.  Emberglow stepped back instinctively.  “Who the buck are you?”

            	“Emberglow, ma’am.” She nearly saluted.  “I used to be a Radiant.”

            	“And you started procedures?  In my hospital?” The threat was obvious.

            	“I cast a diagnosis spell, blood restoration, and most recently anesthesia.  Bubblegum’s foal has prenatal acucornuschlerosis.  She’s bleeding out, and the foal is suffocating.”

            	The doctor didn’t waste any time.  She glanced about the room with perceptive eyes, taking in the preparations Emberglow and the nurse had already made.

            	“Lucky you were here then,” the doctor said.  “Ever done a C-section before?”

            	“No, ma’am.  Studied them in medical school.”

            	“You can assist.  You’re competent in spellcasting?”  The doctor was casting spells as she spoke, her hoof moving rapidly in the runes of a basic antiseptic spell.  Emberglow cursed silently to herself; it should have been her first cast, but she’d forgotten.  From that the doctor moved into her own diagnosis spell, her eyes trailing over the unconscious patient.  “Your job is to keep the mother alive.  Monitor her vitals, let me know if anything changes.  Nurse Paint, if you please?”  The nurse took up a position slightly behind the doctor, right next to the cart of tools.  “Sir Cobalt, ensure the rubberneckers keep out, will you?”  Emberglow hadn’t even noticed Sir Cobalt, or any others, standing out in the hallway.

            	“I talk while I work, does that bother you?” the doctor said softly as she retrieved a scalpel from the nurse, leaning over Bubblegum’s swollen belly.  “It’s odd, but it kinda helps me concentrate.”

            	“S-sure,” Emberglow said nervously.

            	“So, my newest colleague.  Why do you look more like a patient than a doctor, Miss Emberglow?” She made the first incision as she spoke, deftly cutting a line in the patient.  “You’ve got at least one badly sprained wing, some charred fur, and a fairly new bruise along your jawline.  And that’s all ignoring the soiled bandage wrapped around your eye.”

            	“You could tell all that from one look?” Emberglow was impressed.  She began casting a more complicated diagnosis spell; a health monitor link that would allow her to keep track of Bubblegum’s heart rate, blood pressure, and breathing as long as she kept contact.  Once the spell was cast, she took hold of Bubblegum’s limp hoof.  It was a disorienting spell to cast; she felt the blood pressure as a physical sensation in her head, and could physically hear both Bubblegum’s heartbeat and her breathing.  “Um, yeah.  I was tortured a little bit for the last few days.  I got shot trying to escape, and my eye got slashed. Also got hit by lightning.  You’ll have to ask the others, but I think my heart stopped for a bit?”

            	“You’re joking,” the doctor said.  “Oh Celestia.  You’re not joking.  How are you standing?”

            	“Honestly?” Emberglow laughed, sounding hysterical even to herself.  “The last few days have been some of the worst in my life.  I wish Bubblegum didn’t have to go through this right now, but having at least something to focus on is exactly what I need right now.”

            	“Fair enough,” the doctor laughed.

            	The two chatted as they worked.  The doctor introduced herself as Pale Plasma, and she asked all sorts of questions about Emberglow’s medical training.  Meanwhile, she continued the operation.  Emberglow was impressed by the skill of the competent doctor, and her cheerful, effortless professionalism. 

            	“I need another blood restoration spell,” Emberglow announced, shortly after Bubblegum’s blood pressure took a sharp dip.  The doctor nodded, casting as Emberglow’s trained ear continued to listen for any sounds of distress.

            	“I see the foal,” Doctor Plasma announced.  “Nurse, get me the bassinet.  You were exactly right, Emberglow.  I see the horn; prematurely hardened, and caught in the uterine wall…” she trailed off in concentration, then swore loudly.  “Celestia’s tits!  The horn perforated clear through the uterus and managed to lacerate the lower intestine!”  Emberglow flinched.  If Bubblegum hadn’t already been in a hospital, she’d probably be dead now.  “This is going to take a miracle, and lots of reconstructive spells.  Emberglow, as soon as I extract the foal, you take charge of the little one.  I’ll do what I can for Bubblegum.”

            	“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow watched as Doctor Plasma carefully pulled a dripping, bloody form out of Bubblegum.  The unicorn foal was limp an unresponsive, and not breathing.  

“Moving over now.”  Nurse Paint’s horn lit up, and gently levitated the baby into the bassinet.  The doctor gave a sharp nod without looking up from her patient's innards.  Plasma’s hoof was already tracing a complicated series of runes to begin repairing the damage.  Emberglow rushed over to the bassinet.

            	The foal, a colt, was indeed not breathing, but Emberglow could feel a tiny pulse with her hoof.  He was alive.  She did her best to clear his nostrils of the viscera of birth, before covering his mouth with her hoof and leaning over to blow gently into his nostrils.  Nothing.  She repeated the process again, and there was still nothing.  The colt was beginning to turn blue.  She tried a third time and felt something shift inside the colt’s airways.  When she straightened up, he began to cough; tiny, pitiful little noises that filled Emberglow with joy.

            	“He’s breathing!” she cheered, and though the doctor didn’t look away from her task, she grinned.

            	“Well done.  Diagnosis spell, please.”

            	Emberglow nodded, casting the requested spell. “The foal’s about a month premature.  Oxygen levels are low.  We’re going to need an incubator.  Other than that, he’s stable.”

            	“Cobalt, honey?” the nurse called loudly.  Both her hooves were busy assisting Doctor Plasma, and even her horn was lit, levitating tools about within easy reach of the doctor.  “Do you know what a NICU incubator looks like?  There’s one in the birthing room four doors down.”

            	“On it!” came a voice from outside the room.

            	Meanwhile, Emberglow wet a cloth and began gently cleaning the foal’s mouth and nostrils.  His eyes blinked open, though he didn’t cry; instead he just gasped in air, occasionally coughing, with a surprised sort of look on his infant face.

            	Emberglow had heard her fellow students, back in medical school, talk about something they called the ‘Foal Effect’. Many ponies had joked that the first time a mare doctor held an infant foal in her hooves, she was immediately drawn with a desperate urge to enter into a pediatrics specialty. Emberglow had dismissed the idea as backwards and sexist, but she understood now, a little. Though she didn’t feel a sudden urge to change professions, holding the tiny infant life in her hooves, she could see where the myth had come from.

            	But she didn’t have time to stop and awe at the foal.  She had work to do.  While she waited for the incubator, she cast two more spells; rare magic she’d never expected to use.  One was an antibiotic spell, designed to bolster a pony’s immune system against infection.  The second increased the oxygen saturation in the room itself.  It would be dangerous if somepony decided to light a match in the room, but otherwise would be good for the foal.

            	Apparently the foal had had enough with simply coughing and looking surprised.  Suddenly, he took a deep breath, the deepest he’d managed yet, and let out a wail.  It wasn’t as strong or as loud as Emberglow could have hoped, but she laughed with delight anyways.  Crying was a good sign; it meant his lungs were clearing.

            	Just then, Cobalt pushed a wheeled portable incubator into the room.

            	“Lift the lid, please,” Emberglow asked.  She gently lifted the wailing foal into the incubator, before carefully attaching an oxygen mask.  The colt clenched his eyes shut in indignation, squirming about as Emberglow turned the machine on that would power the oxygen mask.

            	With her primary task done, Emberglow suddenly felt superfluous.  A wave of dizzied exhaustion swept over her, and she sank to the floor.

            	“Doctor, if you don’t need me for anything else, I think I’m going to…”

            	She never finished her sentence.  Blackness swallowed her vision before her head even hit the floor.


*   *   *   *   *


            	The first sound Emberglow heard was the beeping of a heart monitor.  She felt surprisingly good, like she was floating on a cloud.  Idly, she wondered if somepony had managed to wrangle a cloud bed into the hospital; it seemed impractical, but it might explain the comfort.  Then she tried to wiggle her hooves, and felt a dull pain in one of her front hooves.  She cracked her eyes open, glancing down. Again, her left eye refused to respond, but her right opened just enough to see the IV in one hoof.  Suddenly the comfort made sense; she was probably on some sort of painkiller.  That would also explain the vague, floating sense of euphoria.

Opening her eye just a bit wider, she glanced around.  It was the same room, though clearly some time had passed; the blood and fluids were cleaned, and only the faintest scent remained, mostly washed away by the aura of bleach and antiseptic.  A curtain was pulled between her bed and the other, though she could hear the quiet, steady beat of the beeping monitor.  Whoever she was sharing a room with was alive, at least.

“Any… anypony there?”

“Emberglow!  You’re awake?” came a voice from the other side of the room.  The curtain suddenly swung to the side, revealing Bubblegum’s husband Wind Storm and Galileo the Griffon, both standing over Bubblegum’s prone form.  She was in the hospital bed, eyes closed, with an oxygen tube in her nose and an IV of her own in one hoof.  Both males had nearly identical looks of concern.  Wind Storm rushed over.  “Is there anything you need?  Anything at all?  I can go get the doctor, or the nurse.  Galileo told me…” he swallowed.  “He said you saved our son.  Our son!”  There were tears in his eyes.

“Where…” Emberglow managed.  She felt hoarse.

“They have an NICU room.  I was just stopping in to check on Bubblegum before I went back to…” He swallowed, shaking his head and dabbing at his eyes.  “We haven’t even named him yet.  We’re waiting for Bubblegum.”

            	“How are they both?” she asked.

            	“The foal is stable.  Doctor Plasma had to put in a feeding tube, because he wasn’t taking a bottle on his own, but for now he’s doing well.  Bubblegum is…” he sighed.  “She was in surgery for six hours.  Doctor Plasma went through four more batteries after you passed out.”

            	“I’ve been out for six hours?”

            	“About ten, actually,” Galileo added helpfully.  “Doctor Plasma and Doctor Mortar both said to let you sleep as long as possible.”

            	“What’s the prognosis for Bubblegum?” Emberglow asked.  She tensed to rise, but Wind Storm shook his head sharply.

            	“Stay down, Emberglow.  Doctor Plasma said you weren’t supposed to exert yourself.  Hang on, I’ll go let her know you’re awake.”  He hustled out of the room, leaving Emberglow alone with Galileo and the comatose Bubblegum.

            	“He didn’t answer my question.  How is Bubblegum?”

            	“Why do you care?” Galileo asked.  The question wasn’t an accusation; he sounded genuine and sincere.

            	“Because… because she was right to hit me,” Emberglow said, as the tears began to flow from her eyes.  “I ruined her life.  I tried to arrest her.  And you.  And Wind Storm.  I…”

            	“Emberglow, stop,” Galileo said.  “Has Terminus told you about the rules yet?”

            	“Not all of them,” Emberglow replied, confused.

            	“Rule three is, everypony gets a fresh start.  Whatever you did, whoever you were before you found out the truth is washed away, and you get to start over.  Bubblegum forgot that when you walked in, for a moment.  I’m sure she’ll be very sorry when she wakes up.”

            	“She’s sorry?” Emberglow sobbed.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry!  I’m sorry, Galileo. I wish…”

            	“Please, stop.  Rule three, Emberglow.  You owe me no apology.”

            	“But… I interrupted…”

            	Galileo laughed heartily.  “Fine, I’ll accept the apology for accidentally blue-balling me.”  Emberglow turned dark crimson.  “But to get back to your question.  Bubblegum’s prognosis is unclear.  She might wake up in a few hours.  She might wake up in a few months.”  He glanced at Bubblegum, and his heart was in his eyes.  “Whatever happens, though, you tried your best to keep her alive.  And you saved our son.”

            	“Your son?” Emberglow was confused.

            	“We are married.  All three of us, one family.  Back in Port Luminescence, we kept it hidden, but here in Angel’s Rest?” His beak spread in a grin.  “I can shout my devotion to both my loves from the rooftops.” He sobered when he glanced back down at one of those two loves, reaching out to stroke Bubblegum’s hoof with one gentle claw.

            	“I’m so sorry,” Emberglow repeated.  Galileo opened his mouth to protest, but she continued.  “I wish I’d known then.  I wish I could have done something different.”

            	“Don’t you see?” Galileo gave a small, quiet laugh.  “Chasing us out of the Port led to the best thing that ever happened to us.  Now we don’t have to hide any longer.  I can love them both without regrets or deception.  And now we have one more to love.”  He cleared his throat, and Emberglow saw the flush of embarrassment there.  “Um, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve spoken to Wind Storm already.  We’d like to name you our foal’s goddess-mother.”

            	“I’d be honored.” Emberglow was choked with emotion.  That made two colts she was goddess-mother for.

            	“There’s more.  We’re waiting for Bubblegum to wake up, but Windy and I both agree…” he took a deep breath, then spoke in a rush.  “We want to name him Emberspark.  After you.”

            	“Oh.  Oh!  I…” She was overwhelmed.  She opened and closed her mouth a few times, her brain trying to form words. 

            	“You can tell us no,” Galileo said nervously, misinterpreting her hesitance.  Emberglow shook her head.

            	“No, it’s an honor,” she said, truly touched.  “When Bubblegum wakes up” — she emphasized the word; it looked like Galileo needed some hope —  “I’m sure she’ll love the idea.”  She wasn’t, really.  Perhaps even after everything that had happened, Bubblegum would still hate her.  “But are you sure?  I was the one who…”

            	“I don’t want to hear any more about what happened back at Port Luminescence, okay?” Galileo said.  He even gave a shaky little laugh.  “If you really wanna make up for it, I’ll let you pay for a romantic date for Bubblegum and I.  To make up for the… erm… celebration you interrupted.”

            	Emberglow felt her face heat up, but she tried to ignore it.   “O-okay,” she stammered, trying not to dwell on the mental images that created.  Galileo’s laugh was a little louder.

            	“I was kidding, Emberglow. You don’t need to be serious.”  He winked.  “But I won’t say no if you want to anyways.  When Bubblegum wakes up.”  He used her same hopeful tone from earlier.

            	There was a knock on the door, quiet and gentle, but Emberglow still jumped a tiny bit.  Glancing over with a chagrined blush, she saw Doctor Plasma enter with a small smile.

            	“Well, Emberglow, in the brief time I’ve known you, I can honestly say you’re a competent healer and an abysmally stupid patient,” the doctor said cheerfully.

            	“Sorry, ma’am,” Emberglow mumbled, and Doctor Plasma chuckled softly.

            	“Don’t be, I’m teasing you.  You saved two lives yesterday, even though you should probably have been in bed yourself. In fact, stay right there.  I’m here to see how you’re healing.”

            	“There’s no pain,” Emberglow said helpfully, and the doctor snorted.

            	“IV painkillers, Miss.  I’d like to ask a bit more about your injuries.  How you got them.  Normally I would have just healed you, but batteries are short at the moment.” She glanced over at Bubblegum.

            	“Um, most of my injuries were caused by a very angry Mystic swinging a steel pipe,” Emberglow said, shifting uncomfortably.  Doctor Plasma watched her, waiting for her to continue.  “That was before the daring escape led by the beautiful heroine.”  Emberglow blushed; she wasn’t quite sure why she’d put it that way.  “While we were escaping, I fought an Adamant that came after us.  He’s the one that…” she trailed off, gently touching the bandage over her eye with a wince of fresh pain.  Quickly she jerked it away again.  “In the fight, I kicked a stormcloud and electrocuted both of us.  They told me my heart stopped shortly after that.”

            	“I’d like to talk to the pony who did the CPR,” the doctor noted.  “We always need competent nurses.”

            	“That’s about it.  Oh, then when I made it to the hospital Bubblegum hit me.”

            	“You mentioned that.” The doctor’s voice was wry.  “What did you do to set off our resident powder keg?”

            	“I was the one who drove her out of Port Luminescence, and the Knighthood.” Emberglow’s voice was small.  “I… I didn’t know.”  The doctor looked at her sternly.  “Yes, I know. Galileo here keeps saying rule three.  But…” she trailed off, waving a hoof vaguely.

            	“Some things are easier said than done.  Guilt is like an unwelcome houseguest; it forces its way in the door of your thoughts, and won’t go even after it’s overstayed too long.  As a healer, you should know all about guilt and regrets.  Have you lost patients before?”

It’s like she can read you like a book.

            	“I have,” Emberglow breathed, shaking her head.  She saw blue fur, and a straw blond mane, and blood, so much blood too much blood….

            	There was a sudden, urgent beeping noise, and the doctor rushed over to Emberglow’s side.  She was shushing Emberglow, gently patting her mane while checking her monitor with concern.

            	“Deep breaths, Emberglow.  In through the nose, out through the mouth.  Are you prone to panic attacks?”

            	“I’ve had them before,” she admitted, after a few said deep breaths.  “Not often, but…”

            	“You wouldn’t be the first.” Doctor Plasma said gently.  Behind her, Galileo was nodding sympathetically.

            	“I still have nightmares,” Galileo said.  “Nightmares about getting caught by the Mystics.  Nightmares about what they’d do to Bubblegum and Windy.  Nightmares about…” he cut off suddenly, and swallowed, glancing at Emberglow.

            	“I’m sorry,” she choked out before he could stop her.

            	“For me, it’s about the family I left behind,” Doctor Plasma’s voice was low and mournful.  “When I found out we were all being lied to, I tried to bring my husband and my brother.  My husband was the one that called the Mystics on me.  Nopony would listen.  It’s been almost fifteen years, and I still go over my last conversations with them, wondering what I could have said, or done, differently.”

            	“When does it get better?” she whispered.  “I just feel so empty…”

            	It came from nowhere; she didn’t even know what she meant, not really.  But the other two were nodding in understanding.

            	“You lost something.  Something that made up a huge part of your life.”  The doctor held onto her hoof, patting it gently.  “You need to find out what you want to fill that hole.  You focus on that, and it starts to get better.  Not all at once.  Not even quickly, sometimes.  But it does get better.”

            	“I don’t know…” Emberglow raised a hoof to her neck, feeling for the Element that had been there before she’d passed out.  It was gone.  She tensed in a near panic.  “Where is…”

            	“That bit of jewelry you had on?” the Doctor interrupted.  “Sir Heartwing and Lady R-rarity came by and took it for safekeeping.”  She stumbled over Rarity’s name, a look of awe in her face.  “That reminds me.  They both wanted to know when you woke up.  Are you ready for visitors?”

            	“I’d love some.” She paused, and an idea occurred to her.  “I’d really like to see the foal, too.” She smiled shyly at Galileo, whose face suddenly glowed with pride.

            	“Okay.  That will do you good.  Let me check on your injuries, and I’ll let them know you’re ready.”

            	“They’re waiting for me?” Emberglow felt her anxiety rise.

            	“There’s several ponies who care about you, Miss Emberglow.  Including Lady Rarity, and the head of the Knights himself.  They just happened to be in the waiting room when Wind Storm came to get me.  But!” She held up a hoof.  “They can wait until we’re done here.”

            	With soft, professional hooves Doctor Plasma carefully investigated each of Emberglow’s injuries, even getting a much more detailed description of the rescue.  The doctor listened calmly, though she did grow angry when Emberglow mentioned the potion she took.

            	“You’re a healer, Emberglow.  You should have known just how dangerous that was.  You probably set your healing back several weeks with your recklessness.”

            	When the doctor was finally done, she sternly instructed Emberglow to stay in her bed no matter what.  “Visiting time in my hospital is a privilege, not a right,” she warned.  “Follow my orders or I’ll kick out your visitors.”

            	“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow said meekly, and the doctor nodded.  She stepped outside the room, and was only replaced moments later by two unicorns.

            	“Emberglow!” Rarity rushed in first, her voice a harsh, worried whisper.  “I told you that you were to stay in your bed!  And now I hear you worked yourself into unconsciousness!”  She gave Emberglow a quick hug.  For some reason, the heart monitor sped up just a bit.  “What am I going to do with you, darling?”

            	“If you keep hugging her, you might not have to worry about that,” came Heartwing’s sardonic voice.  “You’ll give the poor girl a heart attack.”  Rarity jerked back with a blush and a confused look, and Emberglow did her best to will her heart back to a normal rate with calm breathing.

            	“If it helps keep her from trouble,” Galileo said carefully from over by Bubblegum’s bed, “She was able to save two lives.”

            	“Oh, I’m not upset, really,” Rarity waved a hoof dismissively.  “I was just worried about her.”  She eyed Emberglow critically.  “You’re the kind that likes to work herself to the bone for her friends, aren’t you?”  Emberglow felt herself heating up yet again, but Rarity suddenly smiled, a dazzling brightness that lit up the entire room.

            	“Um…”

            	“Oh, don’t be modest.  I’ve been accused of the same, on occasion.  You’re a generous soul, Emberglow.  Almost enough that I’m surprised it’s not my old Element you were drawn to.”

            	“Do we… should we talk about that?” Emberglow asked.  “What does it mean that the Element of Honesty is…” She couldn’t wrap her head around the idea, let alone put it to voice.  It was just one more overwhelming detail to the pile, and Heartwing’s sharp eyes caught her hesitation immediately.

            	“Not a priority right now,” he said cheerfully.  “Health and wellbeing comes first, then inscrutable destinies passed down by annoyingly vague trees.”  He reached into his saddlebags and retrieved the familiar gold necklace, passing it over to Emberglow.  “You should probably hang onto it, though.  I took it for safekeeping while you were sleeping off your injuries.”

            	She took the Element a little reluctantly.  For such a little gem, it felt so big.  She wished she’d asked Applejack more questions.  What was expected of her?  What was coming?  What did it all mean?  Still, she slipped the necklace around her throat, ignoring Galileo’s look of confusion and wonder.  Despite all her confusion, it felt right around her neck, and she gently caressed the gem with a hoof.  It may have been her imagination, but the gem felt warm.  It was the warmth of familiarity and family: a home-cooked meal, the burn in muscles after a satisfying day’s work, the warm glow of family love.  It calmed Emberglow’s anxieties a bit.

            	“So,” Heartwing said, sliding into a chair next to her bed.  “Good to see you again, Emberglow.”

            	“You too,” Emberglow replied, surprising even herself to realize it was heartfelt.  Heartwing might be frustrating and silly, but he had answers.  He had truth.  “Um, sorry I was a bit of a jerk.”  She held up a hoof to forestall the protests she knew were coming.  “I know.  Rule three.  But still, I’m sorry.”

            	“I accept your apology,” he said graciously.  “How are you feeling?”

            	“Honestly?” Emberglow laughed.  “Overwhelmed.  Confused.  A bit in over my head.”

            	“That’s normal when dealing with this one.” Rarity rolled her eyes, and Heartwing blew a raspberry her way.

            	“I meant, physically,” Heartwing scowled.

            	Emberglow shrugged.  “I’m on painkillers.” She held up her hoof with the IV.  “I’m so stiff I don’t think I could stand if I wanted to.”

            	“Might actually keep you in bed,” Rarity muttered.

            	“Doctor Plasma tells me you’re going to be on bed rest for at least three days,” Heartwing said.  “That means your welcome to Angel’s Rest is going to be a little different than normal.  Usually we’d give you a quick tour of the city, find you a place to stay, set you up with some counselling sessions with Terminus, that sort of thing.  Things with you are a bit… complicated.”  His eyes darted to the Element on her neck.  “Still, we’ll do our best to make these first few days of transition as easy as possible for you.”

            	For a moment, she imagined it.  Living in the peaceful city she’d seen on her way in would be relaxing.  Peaceful, even.  Maybe boring.  It wasn’t the sort of life she’d planned for herself, but what else was there?  “Terminus told me I wouldn’t have to join the Discordant if I didn’t want to.”

            	“You don’t,” Heartwing said simply, smiling.  “We could sure use you, but I force nopony to do anything they don’t want to.”

            	“I won’t kill any longer,” Emberglow said firmly.

            	“I have killers.” Heartwing shrugged.  “I need ponies like you.  Ponies with strength and kindness in equal measure.”  He laughed.  “You probably could have killed me in that cave.  You should have.  It might have been easier.”

            	“I’ve never been one to go for easy,” Emberglow admitted.

            	“Good.  If you choose to be one of us, one of the Discordant, it won’t be easy. If you choose to do so without killing anypony, I’ll honor that choice, but it’ll be even harder.”

            	“’Do not shy away from struggle, and do not shirk your duties.  A task may seem daunting, but the diligent will prevail’,” Emberglow quoted, and the other two stared at her.  She smirked.  “Well, you did mention you’d never read the Book of the Saints all the way through.  That was Saint Rainbow.”

            	Rarity snorted in amusement.  “While the sentiment may be accurate, I can assure you our Miss Rainbow Dash never said anything that articulate.”

            	“I know, right?” Heartwing laughed.  “It didn’t use the words ‘awesomeness', 'radicalness', or 'coolness' even once.”

            	“It also lacked grammatical errors, nonsensical invectives, made up words, or other linguistic disasters,” Rarity continued.  The two shared a laugh, while Emberglow watched in confusion.  She hated feeling on the outside of an inside joke.  “Sorry, dear.  We didn’t mean to leave you out.”  Even Heartwing managed to look sheepish in his amusement.  “We’re here to visit you, after all.  Is there anything we can get you?  To make your stay more comfortable?”

            	“Not really.  Um, books, maybe?  Is there something I can read to make all of this make more sense?” Emberglow asked.

            	“That’s a marvelous idea, darling.” Rarity turned to Heartwing.  “Surely you have written something to ease ponies into this transition.”  Heartwing rubbed the back of his mane, awkwardly.  “Nothing?  You’ve had three hundred years, and you’ve never written a book?”

            	“It didn’t seem the most likely way to gain converts,” Heartwing muttered.  “I do have a copy of the Friendship Journal, though.  You’d at least be able to see the original source that was twisted into the Book of the Saints.”

            	“I’d like that.  A lot.” Emberglow was suddenly quite curious, even excited.  The original source material!  It would bring some sense to everything she had been taught, and help her piece together what was truth and what were lies.

            	“It will be my get-well present to you, then.”  Heartwing laughed at her enthusiastic reply.

            	“What about other than books, Emberglow?” Rarity glanced around the room.  “Something to liven up the décor, perhaps?  I may not be on the pulse of fashion any longer, but I’m sure hospital chic hasn’t ever been in style.”

            	“What’s wrong with it?” Emberglow asked, genuinely confused.  Rarity’s jaw dropped, and Heartwing rolled his eyes.

            	“What’s wrong with it?” Rarity repeated.  “Why, I don’t even know where to get started!  The drab, boring, eggshell white walls, the grey linens, the dreadfully practical stainless steel equipment, the tile floor that just screams ‘easy to clean, impossible to match’?  This room is a disaster, darling.”

            	“As well-intentioned as you may be, I doubt the doctors would allow you to redecorate their rooms,” Heartwing noted, chuckling.

            	“Um, what about pancakes?” Emberglow blurted, and both of the ponies stared at her suddenly, in confusion.  “Well, you asked what I’d like besides books.  I don’t mind the décor; I barely even notice it.  But it’s been ages since I’ve had pancakes.  Maybe with strawberries and cream?”

            	Rarity and Heartwing eyed each other, and Heartwing nodded with a smirk.

            	“You ask for such hard things, Emberglow.” His voice was sarcastic.  “I think, somehow, we might be able to manage, though.  The strawberries may be dried, or preserves."

            	“I don’t care,” Emberglow said.  “It’s been months.”

            	“We’ll see to it, darling.  Is there anything else?”

            	“I’d like to see the baby,” Emberglow said, though she immediately felt guilty for the impulse.  It wasn’t her foal, after all, regardless of the role she’d played in birthing him.  “I-I mean, if that’s okay.”

            	“The bassinet is portable,” Galileo said helpfully.  “I’ll go find Windy.”

            	Both of Emberglow’s visitors turned to the griffon.  “I am so sorry, darling.  I didn’t mean to ignore you.” Rarity sounded apologetic.  “That was quite rude of us.  Ahem.  Allow me to introduce myself.  I am Rarity.”

            	“Rarity?  I’d heard, from Bubblegum, but…” Galileo looked stunned.  He cleared his throat and shook his head.  “Nevermind.  I’m Galileo.  Lovely to meet you.  Now, I have a request to fulfil from a sick friend.”  He smiled softly at Emberglow.

            	“By all means.” Rarity stepped out of his way, and he slipped out of the room.

            	“What’s Bubblegum’s prognosis?” Heartwing whispered as soon as Galileo was out of the room.  Emberglow shrugged.

            	“Galileo says she’s in a coma.  She could wake up this hour, in a few weeks, or never.  Doctor Plasma went through half a dozen batteries putting her insides back together.”

            	“What happened?” Rarity was horrified.

            	“A unicorn foal’s horn is supposed to be soft and pliable, until a few weeks after birth.  Bubblegum’s foal had a prematurely hardened horn.  It pierced through her uterus and into the intestines,” Emberglow explained, noticing too late that Rarity’s white face had paled even further.  She toned down the graphic nature of her explanation.  “She was bleeding internally, and many of her organs were damaged.  Hopefully the doctor fixed all that.”

            	“I hope so too,” Heartwing said earnestly.  “This place will be a lot darker without that silly mare.  I’d say she’s a creature after my own heart.”

            	“She does seem to have a troublemaking spirit,” Rarity noted.  “At least from the brief time I’ve known her.”

            	“I’d like a chance to apologize,” Emberglow said softly.  “It was my fault she got chased out of the Knighthood.  I know, rule three.  I still need to tell her myself, though.”

            	“I understand.” Heartwing’s eyes were sympathetic, and Emberglow thought she could see the shadow of keenly felt guilt in his own gaze.  An awkward silence fell on the room, filled only by the slow beep of the heart monitors.  Finally, Rarity cleared her throat.

            	“We only stopped by for a quick visit, Emberglow, so we’ll leave you to your rest,” she said.  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to return as soon as possible with some books, and perhaps even some pancakes for you.” She glanced at Heartwing. “I would like to stay long enough to meet the foal, though.”

            	They didn’t have to wait long.  Galileo and Wind Storm wheeled the NICU incubator into the room, and all eyes were drawn to the tiny foal inside.  Somepony had cleaned all the blood and afterbirth, leaving behind a fuzzy, cream colored pint-sized unicorn, with a shockingly pink mane.  He was asleep, breathing softly into his oxygen mask.

            	The doctor in Emberglow couldn’t help but check the various gauges and indicators on the incubator, verifying the foal’s vitals before letting herself gaze on the life she’d saved.  The foal’s fathers wheeled the incubator right next to Emberglow’s bed.  There were two ports in the side of the incubator, covered with a flexible film so ponies could reach through to touch the foal, while leaving the environment enclosed.  She reached into the port, gently brushing the pink mane and the delicate fur, aweing at the texture.  He was just so tiny, so profoundly fragile, that Emberglow’s breath caught in her throat for a moment.  She felt a strong, glowing urge of protective instinct for the small life in front of her.

For the briefest heartbeat, though, she also a hint of jealousy for Bubblegum as well.  The emotion startled her; she’d never thought about having foals of her own.  She’d never wanted one.  Until now.

“I want a foal,” she breathed, surprised at both the revelation and the vehemence of the feeling.

“I’d oblige, but as I may have mentioned before, committed monogamy?”  Heartwing teased.  “Ow.”  Emberglow saw Rarity jab him firmly with a hoof.

“She didn’t mean you, you cretin,” Rarity scowled.  Emberglow ignored them, caught in the glow of her own epiphany.

“I can have a foal now,” she whispered, joy and excitement filling her voice.  “If I want to.  When I want to.  Nopony can say no.”  She blinked her suddenly misty eye.

“That’s right, Emberglow,” Heartwing rubbed the spot on his chest where Rarity had just jabbed him.  “There’s plenty of available stallions in town.”  Her thoughts on the idea must have been clear in her expression, for he laughed.  “Or there are other ways.  We have discovered a spell that allows two mares to produce offspring.”

“That’s… how is that possible?” Emberglow’s wonder filled her words.

“I do remember Princess Cadence funding just such research in my time,” Rarity said.  “It was quite fascinating, though the technique was far beyond my magical understanding.  Something about using the power of love between two mares to quicken one egg from one mare, using genetic material from the second mare’s egg?”

“That’s exactly how the spell works,” Heartwing said.  “We’ll have to teach you the rune spell, when you’re ready.”

“I’ll have to find a mare, first.” Emberglow blushed, the thrill of possibility beating back the sense of inborn, brainwashed guilt at the idea of taking a lover.  It was an intoxicating, heady sort of thought, one that made her feel both elated and exhausted at the same time.  She slumped back into the hospital bed with a sigh.

“Oh!  You’re probably exhausted, darling.  We should leave you to rest.”  Rarity turned to go.  “Heartwing?  Come on.”

“A moment, Rarity.  I’d like to speak with Emberglow alone, for a bit.  I’ll be along shortly.”

“We’ll take Spark back to the NICU, and give you some space,” Wind Storm said, and Galileo nodded.  Rarity gave them both one last concerned look before following the foal and his fathers out of the room.

Heartwing took up a seat next to her bed, his eyes downcast on the hospital floor.  He looked up, his eyes dragging past the bandage tied to her eye, before glancing back at the door everypony had left by.

“Did…” he breathed.  “Did the doctors tell you about your eye?”

“No.  I just woke up, remember?”  She lifted a hoof to the bandage and steeled herself.  “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“They couldn’t save it, no.”

“I see.”  The room fell silent, except for the beeping of the heart monitor.  Emberglow was surprised she was so calm.  

Then again, after everything she’d been through, she was lucky to even be alive.  To even be here.  Her heart had stopped.  She’d been tortured.  One lost eye seemed a slim price to pay.  Still, it didn’t stop the tears that began to stream down from her good eye.  What was most surprising, though, was when she glanced over and saw Heartwing crying as well.

“...sorry.  I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“Why?” Emberglow was genuinely confused.

“Because it’s my fault, that’s why,” he said.  He shook his head.  “I should have sent more to get you.  I should have sent soldiers.  More than just two knights and one… one dress designer.” He hissed out the title at the end.

“Hey!” Emberglow protested.  “They got me out!  They did the job!”  Something about hearing Rarity disparaged made her angry.  

“Sure.  But did they get all of you out?” he gestured at her bandage without looking up, letting out a humorless laugh.  “Every piece of you?”

“What’s your problem?” Emberglow leaned forward, and Heartwing finally met her angry gaze.  “They did their job.  This?” She pointed at her bandage.  “This is my fault.  I got into a fight I couldn’t win.  I shouldn’t have survived.  I don’t want to hear you blaming yourself, and I definitely don’t want to hear you bad-talking Rarity.  Or Cobalt or Terminus, for that matter.”

“I don’t blame them, I blame me.  I should have sent more.”  Heartwing repeated.  “You don’t get it.  I was an idiot.  I got ahead of myself.  I thought…”  He growled, and slammed his hoof into the side of her hospital bed, causing it to jump.  “I thought I could be like her.”

“Her?” Emberglow asked curiously, before scowling.  “And don’t punch things!  You’ll hurt yourself!”

Heartwing laughed.  “You would say it that way, wouldn’t you?  And her… is Princess Celestia.”  Emberglow stayed quiet, and Heartwing glanced at her before sighing.  “She had this way, this understanding of ponies and situations.  She could assess a threat, assess ponies so well that sometimes I wondered if she could see the future.”

He went silent for so long that Emberglow wondered if she should say something.  His entire figure seemed somehow diminished, as if slumped shoulders, downcast eyes, and a folded posture somehow made him smaller and less significant than the big scary heretic she’d read about for years.

“I was stupid,” he finally whispered into the room, silent except for the beeping of the monitors over Emberglow and Bubblegum’s beds.  “I thought that if I acted like Celestia, maybe I could…” he trailed off.  “See, she would always have a way of throwing the right pony at a problem, and the problem went away.  It always worked with the Elements of Harmony.  Banished sister?  Send the Elements.  Rampaging Chaos God?  Elements.  Army of shapeshifting insects?  You guessed it, Elements.  It was like she had Harmony on her side, or something.  Everything always worked out for Celestia.”

Emberglow reached out to him, resting a hoof on his gently.  He didn’t seem to notice.

“This was my chance, don’t you see?  Throw the Elements at a problem, make it go away.  Maybe that way I can stop fighting.  Stop killing ponies.  The world gets better, and I can finally…” He glanced down, noticing her hoof for the first time before jerking away.  “Don’t… don’t give me your sympathy.  I don’t deserve it.”  He stood up, backing away from her with stricken eyes.  “I don’t deserve it.”

“Heartwing, wait!” Emberglow called, but he had already fled, leaving her alone with a comatose pony and an array of softly chiming medical monitors.


*   *   *   *   *


So easy to forget…

            	Emberglow was back on the Hill.  Back in Manehatten.  She was surrounded by smoke and haze.

So easy to move on…

            	She glanced around herself, staring at the still corpses that filled the hill.  Delver.  Sergeant Arrow.  Bitterroot.

You get peace.  You get love.  I get a shallow grave in a haunted city…

            	She kept looking, her eyes dragging from body to body.  Tangerine, the ship’s cook from the Lady Elegant.  The nameless Knight Adamant, his neck twisted.

You get foals.  You get admiration, fame, a future.  Nopony will remember my name.

            	The sailor with the head wound.  Eight pirates with nooses around their broken necks.  Night Star, his lips frozen, forever begging for his mother.  Even July Blaze, the stallion in the pillory slated for execution.  Their bodies formed a path, lining either side of a narrow walkway up to the top of the hill, shrouded in smoke and darkness.

“Hello? Is this Miss Emberglow?”

How dare you forget?  How dare you move on?  You can’t be happy.  You don’t deserve it.  You never will.

            	Emberglow knew what she’d find at the end of the path.  She knew what she’d find in the inky blackness at the top of the hill.  There was one left, after all.  One more corpse to haunt her dreams.  The one that always did.

“Can you hear me, Emberglow?  What’s… oh!  This is a nightmare!”

            	“I-I didn’t forget,” Emberglow begged desperately.  “I can’t…”

But you get to live, while I rot.  Do you remember our kiss, Lady Emberglow?  Or has it turned to ash and dust on your tongue?

            	“I’ll never forget that,” she whispered.  “How could I?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not good at these yet.  I don’t have enough practice, but this looks pretty bad.  Please, can you hear me?”

Easily.  You find a new love, a new life.  You find a new purpose.  All you have to do is pretend I meant nothing.

            	“You didn’t mean nothing!” Emberglow shrieked, her own hooves dragging her ever closer to the top of the hill.  “You were my friend.  Maybe even more, in time.”

“Please, listen!  I can help you!  You don’t need to do this, this is all guilt and self-hatred!  You don’t need to torture yourself like this!”

But not anymore, right?  I’m just worm food, now.

            	“No, you’re…” Emberglow reached the top of the hill.  There was a figure under a blanket.  An army blanket, like the ones that they’d used to cover the casualties back in Manehatten.  She knew what was underneath.  She couldn’t stop her hooves.  They trembled in agony as she reached the edge of the blanket, pulling it back painfully slowly.  Blue fur, matted with blood.  Blonde hair, tangled and ruined.  Perfect, sparkling emerald eyes frozen in horror and pain.  Her ruined throat stretched and shook as her dead lips opened, and her perfect voice echoed.

Maybe I’m better off dead, if you were just going to cast me aside and forget about me.

            	Emberglow shrieked in horror.  Her hooves felt sticky and hot, covered in blood.  She tried to close her eyes, but she couldn’t even blink.

“Okay, I’m going to try something.  I don’t know if it will work, but…”

“Emberglow!”

A sudden voice from behind her startled her out of her sobbing.  It wasn’t just a shout, it was accompanied by the sound of a bell.  Emberglow spun about, and a sudden shaft of moonlight illuminated an unfamiliar figure, standing among the lifeless bodies.  It was a mare; a crystal pony with yellow fur and an orange mane.  She wore nothing more than a necklace just like Emberglow’s Element of Harmony, though it was shaped like a rising sun.  The mare’s voice was kind, cheerful, and sounded like the tinkling of a bell.

“My name is Topaz Glitter, and I’m here to save you from your nightmare.”


> Chapter 33
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 33


EVOE Radio broadcast, dated 1113 AF

Aurora Morning: Good morning, New Canterlot City.  Today we have some somber news to share with you.

Fiery Muzzle: That’s correct, Aurora.  We received some distressing news just before going live, and we’re really sorry that we have to be the ones to announce it.  Yesterday night, shortly after midnight, a spy for the heretics managed to infiltrate the Star Shine Memorial Building and murdered the Grand Master of the Mystics, Lady Nickelplate.

A.M.: Also killed in the attack was a high ranking inquisitor, Lady Hollybright.

F.M.: Oh my.  Our prayers go out to their families, and to all the Knights Mystic.

A.M.: Speaking of families, we have a brief statement to read from the brand new Grand Master, appointed by unanimous approval by the Mystic’s Council of High Inquisitors just this morning.  Grand Master Steadfast Word said, “We mourn and pray for our fallen leader, taken from us by the foul blades of the heretic--”

F.M.: Wait a moment.  Did you say Steadfast Word?

[The recording includes rapid shuffling of papers, muttered conversation not picked up by the microphones]

A.M.: Sorry for the interruption, ponies.  Um.  B-back to the statement by…

F.M.:  You said Steadfast Word.  That’s not in my copy.  Who...

[More sounds of shuffling.  Heated voices.  A loud thud]

A.M.: Um… uh, the statement!  Yes!  “We mourn and pray for our fallen leader, taken from us by the f-foul blades of the heretic forces that even now infest our fair city.  I call on all citizens to recommit themselves to the Will of the Saints.  We will root out the evil that caused the downfall of our beloved Nickelplate.”

F.M.: Ponies of Canterlot, please listen!  That’s not what happened!  They’re leaving out…

[The transmission cuts off, replaced by a recorded message about technical difficulties]



1113 AF, Angel’s Rest

            	“You’ve been a little off your game today, Miss Rarity,” Klieo remarked.  “Something on your mind?”

            	Rarity looked up from the pair’s latest display, a rainbow themed circular rack featuring mostly short skirts and blouses in solids. With the boutique opening soon, they still had to finish refurbishments of the previously empty store, though thankfully most of the hard work was out of the way already.

“My friend is getting out of the hospital any minute now,” she admitted.  “I’m a bit worried about her.”

            	“Your friend?” Klieo mused.  “Oh, the one you went off to go save.  How is she doing?”

            	“She’s… healthy,” Rarity said, unsure of how much more she should share.  It wasn’t necessarily everypony’s business, after all.

            	“Ah. Healthy, eh?” Klieo said wryly, nodding in sympathy. She seemed quite intuitive about these things, though Rarity supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, considering.

            	“Yeah.” Rarity sighed.  “Any advice?  Terminus and I dropped off a care package for Emberglow this morning, and I just felt so helpless.  He’s such a darling, and he always seems to know just what to say to help.  I just… don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

“Sure, I can try,” Klieo said. “What happened when you dropped off the care package?”

“We had a pleasant visit.  Chatted about her moving in with Terminus and Heartwing and I, at least temporarily. She seemed...” Rarity trailed off, waving a hoof idly while she grasped for the words.  “...fragile.  Like a pair of gorgeous spun glass slippers.  Fine on the surface, but ready to break at a moment’s notice.”  Rarity paused, thinking for a moment.  “It could just be my imagination.  Or I’m just projecting my own fragility onto her.”

“Don’t do that, Rarity,” Klieo admonished.  “You’re doing just fine.”

“Today I am, darling.”  The boutique went silent for a few seconds, until Klieo leaned over and squeezed Rarity about the shoulders in a sudden hug.  Rarity resisted the urge to protest, to squirm out of the hug, to insist she was okay, and instead leaned into her friend’s embrace.  Even when things were going well (and they were, today) hugs were always helpful.

“Thank you, Klieo,” Rarity said after she finally did step away.  Klieo was smiling.  “You’re such a dear.”

“I try.”  Klieo blushed.  “So.  I interrupted you.  We were talking about your friend?”

“Right.  So like I said, she’s probably getting out of the hospital today.  Terminus offered to take her on a more thorough tour of Angel’s Rest, but she said she wanted to explore a bit on her own, first.”  The idea unsettled her, but she hadn’t said anything at the time.  “It makes me worried, but I’m not quite sure why.”

            	“Hmm…” Klieo pursed her lips thoughtfully.  “She said she wants to explore the town on her own, right?”  She shrugged.  “Maybe she’s just trying to spread her wings a bit.  Metaphorically, of course.”

            	“Perhaps literally,” Rarity quipped.  “Miss Emberglow is a pegasus, after all.”

            	“Maybe that,” Klieo laughed.  “Um, but what I mean is, maybe she feels like she needs a little space to make some decisions on her own.  I know when we first brought Colibri home, it was a weird mix of sometimes needing to give her space to test her newfound freedom, and sometimes give her structure and support.”  Klieo’s eyes drifted, unfocused.  “It requires lots of patience.  And love.  And time.”

            	“I want to help so much, I’m just not sure how,” Rarity said, looking down at her hooves.  Her mind drifted back to her first few moments, waking up in the cave.  She remembered how Emberglow’s first instinct had been to try and protect her, a complete stranger, from the supposed threat of Heartwing.  She remembered the way Emberglow had broken down, completely shattered.  And then, after all that hurt, Emberglow had done her best to comfort Rarity in her own pain. 

It made Rarity feel oddly warm to think about.  Emberglow might be the bearer of Applejack’s Element, but those actions reminded Rarity more of Fluttershy’s gentle kindness and self-sacrifice.

            	“Did you know you usually smile when you’re thinking about her?” Klieo teased.  “Do you have a bit of a crush you’d like to confess?”

            	“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Rarity felt the heat in her face, though, and wondered.

“Uh huh,” Klieo raised her eyebrows and smirked.  “I’m not buying it.  Fess up, girl.”

“You’re being quite silly,” Rarity informed her blankly, looking away. Klieo giggled.

            	“Well then, if you don’t want to discuss crushes, you can at least let me in on what the next step for setting up the shop is.”

            	“I had a flash of inspiration last night, dear.” Rarity seized on the subject change like a drowning mare seizing a life preserver.  “A creativity station.  With colored pencils and paper, even swatches of fabric.  Let customers come up with some of their own custom designs.”

            	“That could be… disastrous,” Klieo said skeptically.

            	Rarity laughed.  “Well, of course we wouldn’t let their designs become reality without filtering through one of us first.  But think of the possibilities!  Customers will love it.  Plus, if they have foals, it may help keep them occupied while the parents shop.”

            	“Sounds whimsical, if a bit impractical.” Klieo nodded.  “I like it.  Would you like me to start drawing up designs?”

            	“I’d love you to, darling.  It could be…”

            	There was a knock on the door.  Rarity and Klieo looked at each other, surprised.

            	“That could be her,” Rarity mused.  Who else would be knocking on the door of a boutique that wasn’t even open yet?  “Terminus did give her our address and suggest she should stop by.”  

She trotted over to the pane glass front door.  It was, indeed, Emberglow standing right outside.  She swung the door open wide.  “Emberglow, darling.  Come in, please.”  She motioned to Klieo.  “This is my apprentice and partner, Klieo.”

            	“Um, okay,” Emberglow said carefully, stepping into the boutique.  She nervously eyed the minotaur before clearly gathering herself.  “Nice to meet you, Klieo.”

            	“Oh my,” Rarity gasped as soon as Emberglow was fully in the shop.  “What are you wearing?” 

            	“Um.” Emberglow glanced at herself. “The hospital had some spare clothing to loan out to patients like me.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to put on robes again, until I decide if I still want to be a Knight.”  She had on a mostly shapeless cream dress, poorly draped over her lean figure.  It was utterly boring. 

            	“Well then, dear, you’ve come to the right place,” Rarity said cheerfully.  “We’ll have to get you some proper attire.  Klieo, be a dear and get me a sketch pad and a pencil, will you?”  Klieo gave her a silly mock salute, and rushed off.

            	“I don’t need much.” Emberglow held up a hoof.  Her tail was twitching nervously, and she seemed to be shrinking into herself.  “I really just came by to thank you for the care package.  And the book.”

            	“Nonsense!” Rarity gently laid a hoof over her friend’s shoulders, guiding her into the boutique.  Terminus’ words from this morning danced in her head.  “A pretty mare like yourself deserves an entire wardrobe of pretty dresses.  Life is a runway, darling.  Your personal couture should show off your inner beauty while enhancing your outer beauty.”

            	“I-I could always just go… without,” Emberglow stammered, though she didn’t resist being led into the shop.

            	“That may be fine for some ponies, but not for you, and you know it.” Rarity smiled, turning to face Emberglow.  “Now.  Tell me what kind of dresses you liked to wear before you joined the Knighthood and wore nothing more than those erm”— she cleared her throat daintily —“functional, robes.”

            	Weirdly, Emberglow’s gaze unfocused, and her eye suddenly brimmed with tears.  She blinked a few times, and reached up to dash at her eye with one hoof.  Rarity didn’t know what she’d said, but she’d affected Emberglow somehow. 

Before she could apologize, though, Emberglow spoke urgently.  “A dress.  A skirt.  Long.  Um, maybe cream colored, with polka dots?  And a b-belt.”  Tears were leaking down her cheeks, and she shook her head rapidly.  “I’m sorry.  I’m being so silly.”

“Not at all!” Rarity protested.  Klieo rushed back with a drawing pad and several pencils.  Rarity seized the tools with her magic and began sketching out a basic pony figure on paper.  “You sound like you know exactly what you want.  I’d love to hear about it, if you don’t mind sharing.”

            	“It was my twelfth birthday,” Emberglow whispered, her good eye staring into space.  “It was too much.  My parents, they sacrificed so much to get me a pretty dress.”  Rarity’s heart ached as Emberglow told the story of the dress, and how she had finally lost it.  

As Emberglow talked, Rarity made four possible sketches for designs before she noticed Emberglow’s voice becoming softer and more strained, before trailing off entirely. From the corner of her eyes, Klieo gave Rarity a significant look, before walking purposefully towards the bathroom.  

Rarity watched her go, hesitating momentarily with indecision. As tears began to trickle Emberglow’s eyes, though, she made up her mind, and walked over to Emberglow, wrapping a hoof around her and pulling the poor mare into a tight hug.  Emberglow sobbed quietly.

            	“I miss them,” she admitted in a whisper.  “They’re back at home.  They probably think I’m dead.  I wish there was a way to get in touch, let them know I’m okay.”

            	Rarity patted her on the back.  “We’ve found an Element of Harmony.  Maybe two, if your mystery mare turns out to be real.  Who knows, in no time at all, maybe we’ll have rounded up the rest, and you’ll be able to return home to your parents like the hero you are.”

            	“That might be… overly optimistic,” Emberglow said, deflating even more in Rarity’s embrace. “Sorry.  I’m just so…” She gently stepped out of Rarity’s hug, and blinked, wiping at her eyes with her hoof.  “Sorry,” she repeated, her eyes on the floor.

            	“Think nothing of it, Emberglow,” Rarity said cheerfully, hoping it didn’t seem forced.  “Now, I’d like you to take a look at these sketches.  Are you interested in a faithful recreation of the dress your parents made, or something inspired by it?”

            	Rarity flipped the notebook over, and Emberglow leaned in to look through the sketches — designs, inspired purely by Emberglow’s verbal description.  Emberglow’s eyes were fixed on the pages of the sketchbook, but Rarity watched Emberglow’s face closely, particularly her sparkling sky blue eyes, still wet from her earlier breakdown.  There was an anxious pause.

            	Then, Emberglow’s eyes teared up for an entirely different reason than before, and her face broke out into a wide smile.

This was what Rarity needed.  This was one of the moments she lived for; the moment when she brought inspiration, light, and joy into another pony’s eyes.  Emberglow flipped through the pages, awe clear in her face, before glancing back at Rarity.

            	“You drew all this just while I was talking?” Emberglow glanced between the half-dozen sketches.  Rarity glowed with pride.  “Um, oh.  You asked…” she paused thoughtfully.  “Can you make a dress inspired by the one my parents made for me?”  A shadow of something dark and sad crossed over her face.  “I mean, you don’t have to go to the trouble—“

            	“No.” Rarity held a hoof up to Emberglow’s muzzle, stopping her short. Emberglow blushed, but stopped talking, so Rarity put her hoof down again with a small grin. Behind Emberglow, Rarity saw Klieo poke her head in, before walking naturally back into the room, carrying a clean handkerchief in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

            	“Think of it this way, Miss Emberglow,” Klieo reasoned, handing the glass and the handkerchief to Emberglow, who took it with a grateful look.  “We’re going to be opening in a few days.  We need lots of advertising, and you prancing about in a beautiful Rarity Original will help spread the word of our new shop.”

            	“If you’re sure…” Emberglow wiped her eyes with the handkerchief.

            	“I absolutely must insist, darling,” Rarity said, though she smiled as she said it.  “Miss Klieo is correct.  It will help not only with advertising, but to make sure my skills aren’t rusty after my long nap.”

            	Emberglow snorted with amusement, gesturing at the racks of fabulous dresses spread out over the shop.  “I think you’ve proved that already.”

            	“You know, you’re exactly right,” Rarity said, without breaking stride.  “In fact, just to prove to myself that I’m back in the game, I’m going to have to see some of these newer designs in action, as it were.  I don’t suppose you’d like to try on a dress or two…?” She trailed off, her voice heavy with pleading as she fluttered her eyelashes at Emberglow.

            	Emberglow blushed brightly.  “I-I, b-but, why m-me?” she stammered nervously.  Rarity had to hold in her laughter.  Klieo didn’t bother, giving an oddly girlish giggle.

            	“Why you?” Rarity gasped dramatically.  “Why, Emberglow, you would be perfect to model some of my newest line!  You’re tall and elegant, with a natural athleticism and grace to your movements.  Your coloration is quite charming, and would go with any number of my fabulous dresses.”

            	With each compliment, Emberglow’s face grew redder and redder.  She squirmed underneath the barrage of praise, which only made Klieo laugh harder. Emberglow glared at her.

            	“Now you’re just teasing me,” she muttered.

            	“Maybe a little, darling.  But I’m serious about having you try on some of our creations.  Klieo, would you be a dear and snatch the light grey sundress with the pink belt?  I think with a little alteration, it would work nicely for Miss Emberglow.”

            	“I couldn’t possibly…”

            	“On it!” Klieo sang out, prancing through the aisles of clothing to select the requested dress.

            	“No you don’t need to…”

            	“Here it is!” the minotaur called out.

            	“Really, it’s…”

            	“Oh!” Rarity called out.  “What about the little black formal piece?  The one with the rose accent, that you designed?”

            	“R-rarity, you can’t just…”

            	“Ooh, yes!” Klieo cooed, dashing over to another aisle and snagging a second dress.  “That rose will perfectly accent her mane.”

            	“Will the both of you please…”

            	“And what about something more practical?  Perhaps the blue and white blouse with a black pencil skirt?”  Rarity was trying her best to hold back her laughter at the panic and indignation on Emberglow’s face.  She was having too much fun to stop.

More than that, though, Rarity was fairly sure it was working.  Emberglow was flustered and off-balance, perhaps, but she wasn’t frozen, or breaking down.  Rarity considered herself a good judge of ponies; she was sure the distractions were doing exactly what Terminus had intended.

            	“That would be perfect for her,” Klieo confirmed.  She collected the third outfit, while Emberglow stared on with openmouthed horror.

            	“Come this way, Emberglow,” Rarity guided the stunned mare towards the dressing rooms.  “You’ll have to try these on so I can see how they’ll need to be altered.”

            	“But…”

            	“No buts!” Rarity sang.  “Don’t worry, I won’t make you buy anything you don’t like.”  She shoved Emberglow into the dressing room, sliding the privacy curtain across after she pushed the outfits in after her.  “Now try those outfits on, and show us how fabulous you are.”

            	“For the record, I’m following these orders under formal protest,” Emberglow’s muffled voice came from the changing room, accompanied by the sounds of shuffling cloth as she undressed.  Rarity giggled.

            	“I’m not your military officer, Emberglow.  You can refuse whatever you want.”

            	“You could have fooled me,” Emberglow grumbled, then sighed.  “Thank you.  For trying to take my mind off…stuff.  It’s truly kind of you.”

            	“You deserve it, darling,” Rarity said warmly.

            	“Oh!” Emberglow suddenly exclaimed.  “These are already altered for wings!”

            	“Of course, Emberglow.  Did you think I’d recommend something unsuitable?” Rarity pretended to be offended.  “Don’t be absurd.”

            	Emberglow laughed.  “Okay, I think I…” she paused, grunting slightly.  “Um, I might need a little help with the zipper.”

            	She stepped out of the dressing room in the evening dress, a little black number with glossy black fabric, spaghetti strap shoulders, and an embroidered red rose on the dress’ breast.  The skirt was short, but not daringly so, though with Emberglow’s slightly taller-than-average stature, it appeared shorter than it should.  Rarity imagined that factored into the delightfully amusing blush that spread across her cheeks.  Coincidentally, the evidence of Emberglow’s embarrassment matched quite nicely with the embroidered rose.

            	“Oh my.  Darling, you look gorgeous!” Rarity cooed as she helped her zip up the back of the dress.  “Klieo, come look!  It’s like this dress was simply made for her!” She was perhaps laying it on a little thick, but Emberglow needed the boost.  Besides, she was gorgeous.

            	“Very nice.” Klieo nodded.

            	“It doesn’t show t-too much leg?” Emberglow asked nervously.

            	“Not in the slightest.” Rarity nodded confidently.  “Just the right sort of dress for showing off that lovely figure of yours.  Not an everyday sort of outfit, mind you.  That’s what the sundress or the blouse is for.  Now, let me take some measurements.  This would just need a few alterations to be perfect for you.”

            	“I thought I was just trying it on?” Emberglow raised an eyebrow.

            	“Of course, of course,” Rarity waved a hoof vaguely.  “Indulge me.”

            	Emberglow rolled her eyes, but said nothing as Rarity went to work with a  measuring tape and pins.  Moments later, Rarity waved her back towards the changing room.

            	“All done, dear.  Try on the next one.”

            	“Yes, ma’am,” Emberglow saluted sarcastically, before retreating behind the curtain.  “You know, you’re starting to remind me of my mother.”

            	“Oh?”

            	“She’s a strong mare too, and she nearly always gets her way.”  Rarity heard Emberglow sigh over the shuffling of cloth.  “And she’s usually right.”  

            	“You know, somehow I don’t see you as the type to argue or rebel against your mother,” Rarity remarked.

            	“I wasn’t,” Emberglow admitted.  “But nopony’s perfect.  I was a teenager once, too.”  She stepped out of the dressing room, wearing the blouse and pencil skirt combination.  “Well?”

            	“Hmm…” Rarity pursed her lips in concentration.  “The skirt and blouse do work, but...”

            	“There’s something missing,” Klieo said while Emberglow glanced back and forth between them, nervously.  “Accessories?”

            	“Just so, Klieo,” Rarity said with a grin.  “I wonder…”  She trotted over to a display case full of inexpensive costume jewelry, pulling out a simple necklace made with bright faux turquoise beads.  She levitated it around Emberglow’s neck, then clopped her hooves together in delight.  “That’s just the thing!  It sets off your eyes so nicely!”

            	“It does?” Emberglow asked unsurely, lifting the beads with one hoof to look at them.

            	“Yes, and it’s just the accent this lovely ensemble needed.”  Rarity stepped around Emberglow, glancing at the outfit from all angles.  “Only a few alterations needed, I think.  Now, let’s see the sundress.”

            	Emberglow disappeared behind the curtain one last time to change into the dress.  Rarity grinned at Klieo, who leaned in to whisper softly.

            	“I think it’s working, boss,” Klieo was clearly holding back giggles.  “She’s acting annoyed, but I think you’re cheering her up.”

            	“Good.” Rarity smirked.

            	A few moments later Emberglow emerged, shuffling her hooves nervously in the sleeveless pale grey dress, so light it was almost a cream.

            	“What do you think?” Rarity asked her partner.

            	“Well, with this piece, I think her the bright color of her mane becomes the accent the dress needs,” Klieo said thoughtfully.  “Do you always wear it up like that, in a ponytail?”

            	“I just like it out of the way,” Emberglow mumbled.

            	“That’s fine,” Klieo held up her paws in a placating gesture.  “It wasn’t criticism, and it looks nice for you.  But with this dress, it might be fun to try it down.  Something to think about.”

            	“I think it would look just marvelous down, darling,” Rarity said.

            	“Y-you do?” Emberglow stammered, and out of the corner of Rarity’s eye, she saw Klieo smirk.  “Um, maybe I could try it.”  She reached up with her hooves, undoing the practical but boring mane tie she usually wore.  Her short mane cascaded around her face, a few strands trickling in front of her eyes.

            	“Here, allow me, dear,” Rarity’s horn ignited, and she gently rearranged Emberglow’s mane, brushing it back out of her eyes to drape loosely behind her ears.  Emberglow’s eye twitched back and forth awkwardly, unsure where to look.

            	“There we are.  It’s like you’re a whole new mare,” Rarity cooed, levitating a small mirror over so Emberglow could see how she looked.  “It’s no replacement for a real makeover, but it will do for now.”

            	“Makeover?” 

            	“Oh yes, dear.  Klieo’s sister, Colibri, showed me the most delightful spa here in Angel’s Rest, fed by a natural hot spring.  It’s absolutely marvelous, I’ll have to bring you along some day.”

            	“Um…” Emberglow was looking anxious, and Rarity reached out to comfortingly touch her shoulder.

            	“Am I moving too quickly for you, darling?” she asked.  “I know sometimes I can be a bit much.”

            	“N-no, you’re perfect!  I mean, you’re just fine!” Emberglow’s smile was still a bit anxious, so Rarity backed away a bit.  “I’m just overwhelmed, is all.  This is all so different than what I was used to.”

            	“What is it that Terminus always says?  One day at a time, darling.  You’ll get there.”

Emberglow’s smile softened and became a little more genuine. “I hope so too.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	In the end, Emberglow had left wearing the sundress.  Rarity had overridden her protests with one of her signature maneuvers: the puppy dog stare complete with fluttering eyelashes.  It had reduced all of Emberglow’s complaints into wordless stammering.  Her mission complete, she finally let the poor mare leave, but not before recommending an excellent bakery where she could purchase herself some goodies.

            	“That mare’s really into you, you know,” Klieo commented as the two were heading home for the night.

            	“It wasn’t really that subtle,” Rarity noted, smirking.

            	“So?”

            	“There’s potential,” she admitted with a hint of a blush.  “But if anything were to happen, it would have to be at an absolutely glacial pace.  She’s not exactly in a stable place right now, and if I’m being honest, neither am I.”

            	“That sounds smart.”  Klieo nodded.  “So, what are your evening plans?  Care to join me for dinner?”

            	“I probably shouldn’t,” Rarity sighed regretfully.  “I’m going to check in with Heartwing.  He said there might be a council meeting tonight.”

            	“Good luck with that,” Klieo said.  They gave each other a wave as they split off to their respective destinations. 

Rarity hummed a little tune to herself as she walked, quite pleased with the way the afternoon had turned out.  Even though the boutique wasn’t even open yet, she was already bringing smiles to ponies’ faces with her couture.

As she approached Heartwing and Terminus’ house, she saw a pegasus colt sitting in the front yard.  He wore nondescript robes over his grey fur, and his yellow mane was cut tragically short in a military style cut.  He jerked to his hooves as soon as she neared, saluting with a hoof to his chest.

“Miss Rarity, ma’am!” he squeaked, and she grinned.  “I’ve been sent to give you a message, ma’am!”

“Ooh, how dutiful!” Rarity cooed, charmed by the adorable young colt.  “And you are…?”

“Grey Torrent, ma’am!” The foal saluted again.  “I’m a page.”

“Oh, working towards Knighthood, then.”  Rarity nodded.  “Very admirable.  What is the message, young sir?”

“Um, Sir Heartwing said there’s a council meeting.  He told me to fly here and wait until you got here, then escort you to the meeting.”

“Well then, lead the way, my stalwart companion!” Rarity beamed at the way the small colt puffed up at her compliments.  He led the way to City Hall, while Rarity made small talk.  “So, what makes you want to be a Knight?”

            	“It’s my momma, ma’am,” he said proudly.  “She’s one of the best scouts the Knights Discordant ever had.  I just wanna earn my armor so I can fly at her side.”

            	“I’m sure she’s proud of you, Grey,” Rarity said.  “What’s it like being a page?”

            	“Um, hard.” He gulped.  “There’s lots of training and stuff, and I have to do wing-ups and laps every day.  But Momma’s a good coach.”

            	“I’m sure in no time at all, you’ll be as fit as your mother,” she replied, and he beamed.

            	Grey Torrent led her all the way to the doors of the council chamber, which were wide open.  The other council members were already waiting, save for Heartwing.

            	“Good evening, everypony.  I hope I didn’t make you wait.”

            	“Not at all,” Cobalt said.  “We’re a bit early, anyways.  We were hoping for a chance to talk to you before Heartwing showed up."

            	“You think he’s going to try again?” Ninelives said cryptically.  All of the other council members sighed in exasperation, while Rarity looked between them with confusion.

            	“Every so often, Sir Heartwing attempts to do something silly by trying to resign, or something,” Cobalt explained.  “He’ll start to feel guilty about something, and gets into a spiral of negative thinking.  We mostly just veto him outright every time.”

            	“We’re overdue,” Ninelives muttered, as the other council members nodded.  “It’s been, what, two years since the last time?”

            	“At least that much,” Cobalt nodded.  

            	“We should probably give him the benefit of the doubt,” Top Brass said.  “We don’t know for sure…”

            	“Don’t know for sure about what?” Heartwing asked suspiciously as he trotted into the room.  He seemed slightly out of breath, and he carried a stack of papers in his magic, which he deposited in front of Ninelives.  “Here, take a quick look at those.”

            	“Just discussing the possibility that you were going to do something stupid,” Ninelives said idly, while his eyes drifted over the reports he’d been handed.  “I mean, we all agree that you’re overdue for another ‘I’m not worthy, you deserve better leadership’ style meltdown.”

            	Heartwing gaped, his gaze drifting between the expressions on the other council members.

            	“I’d like to make a motion,” Rarity spoke up.  “Can we, as a council, release a statement of complete and utter confidence in Sir Heartwing’s leadership, even in these somewhat tumultuous times?  That should forestall any…” she cleared her throat, “…ahem.  Time wasting foolishness.”

            	“Traitor,” Heartwing grumbled.

            	“There is a motion on the table,” Mayor Cactus Flower said formally.  “Do we have a second?”  Everypony except Heartwing raised their hooves.  “We can probably move directly to a vote, then.”

            	“You ponies are crazy,” Heartwing grumbled.

            	“All in favor of releasing a statement declaring our unanimous support for Sir Heartwing?” The mayor’s question was followed by a chorus of ‘ayes’.  “Any opposed?”  Everypony stared at Heartwing, who shook his head with a wry smile.  “Very well.  With five ayes and one abstention, the motion passes.  I’ll draft a statement for you all to sign as soon as possible, if nopony minds.”

            	“Are we done with that?” Heartwing said with an eye roll.  “Good.  Thank you all, by the way.  Your misplaced confidence aside, you’re all very kind.  Now if we can move on to today’s business, I’ve got some interesting news.

            	“You all know by now that one of our newest citizens, Emberglow, has been revealed to be the Element of Honesty.  We have some more information on that subject to share.

            	“Emberglow has been having dreams, in which she has been conversing with a crystal pony who claims to be the Element of Laughter.  Emberglow’s a smart mare, so not only was she skeptical about the reality of these dreams, she also came up with a way of testing whether or not they were actually happening.  The good news is, our Element of Honesty is not crazy.  There really is a crystal pony, named Topaz Glitter, who appears to have found the Element of Laughter.  And she has a way of communicating with Emberglow in shared dreams.”

            	He paused for a moment, letting the council members digest this information.

            	“The bad news is, she’s part of a delegation of diplomats the Empire sent to the Diarchy.  So this Topaz Glitter is hiding dead center in the middle of our enemy’s strength.  Her safety is dubious at best.  I don’t think the shield of diplomatic immunity will mean a bit to the Diarchy if they were to find out she has the Element of Laughter.”

            	“She brought it with her?” Cobalt snorted incredulously.

            	“I don’t know for sure,” Heartwing said.  “I’ll have Emberglow ask when she next has a chance.  But that leads us to the important part.  The Elements are making themselves known.”  He reached into his robes, pulling out a small pouch and gently spilling the Element of Kindness onto the table.  “Even this one has been glowing intermittently over the last few weeks.  We have a little time, but we need a plan for finding the others before the Diarchy can.” He paused, motioning at the stack of papers he had handed Ninelives earlier.

“Reports from inside New Canterlot City suggest the new head of the Mystics is sending out expeditions.  He’s been amassing naval forces near and inside the barrier islands outside of Jubilation.  Ostensibly they’re hunting pirates, but they’ve been observed by the zebras making landfall on several of the islands, as if searching for something.”

“You think…” Ninelives pondered.  “The sea shanty?  The one about Captain Celaeno?  But those islands were searched centuries ago.  If there were any treasure there, it would have been found ages ago.”

“Unless they know something we don’t,” Heartwing suggested.  “Either way, I think we should mount an expedition to Jubilation.  There is at least one Element of Harmony in Zebrica.  Maybe two.”

Rarity was lost.  Captain Celaeano?  A sea shanty?  She nearly asked, but closed her mouth and sat back to listen.  She was sure she could ask him later.

            	“Seriously?  No objections?” He asked, then shrugged.  “Okay then.  Myself and Rarity will go, obviously.  Also Miss Emberglow.  I’d like to take at least one other Knight.”

            	“Hmm,” Cobalt mused with a smirk.  “I wonder which one.”

            	“Just so!” Heartwing said cheerfully.  “For my morale, of course.”

            	“It doesn’t hurt that he’s also a very competent Knight,” Cobalt noted.  “Okay, so just the four of you?”

            	“I’d rather keep the group small.”  He glanced around as well.  “Really?  None of you are objecting?”

            	“Of course I object,” Cobalt sighed.  “None of us want you to go.”  The rest of the council were nodding their agreement.  “But we don’t exactly have a choice.  None of us understand what’s going on here.  This business with Elements, and magic trees, and ponies waking up from a thousand years ago?  Way over my head.  But not, I think, over yours.  Or Miss Rarity’s.”

            	“You might not like the next bit, then,” Heartwing said.  “I’d like to reiterate the Last Chance protocol.”

 	“The Last Chance Protocol?” Rarity asked, confused.  The other council members were leaning forward, their faces a mixture of concern and consternation.

            	“Standing orders for all Discordant, and our military forces,” Ninelives muttered, though he didn’t look up from reading the papers.  “If something happens to the Big Guy, the next in charge approaches the nearest Crystal Empire forces and surrenders ourselves to Princess Flurry Heart’s command.  We then hopefully get absorbed into whatever military structure she decides on.”

            	“As backup plans go, it feels… drastic,” Cobalt eyed his boss.  “Are you sure…”

            	“I won’t leave you all hanging just so I can go off on a magical friendship quest,” Heartwing declared.  “My ponies are going to be taken care of, no matter what.  While I’m gone, if you don’t hear from me via enchanted scroll for over a week, I’m ordering you to follow the Protocol.”

            	“He’s right,” Ninelives suddenly interjected, setting the reports down on the middle of the table.  He eyed Heartwing.  “How much do you trust these reports?”

            	“Individually?  Not much.  But since there’s at least a dozen witnesses…” Heartwing trailed off worriedly.

            	“Don’t tease us, darling,” Rarity said, annoyed.  “What’s in those reports?”

            	“Naval movements by Jubilation.  But also,” he looked up in concern,  “strange sightings in the northern Diarchy,” he replied.  “Unusually cold weather patterns, and multiple reports of voices on the cold winds.”

            	Rarity’s eyes widened.  “You mean like the old Hearth’s Warming tales?”

            	Heartwing nodded.  “Places like Vanhoofer and Stalliongrad are being hit by dramatic winter storms, and multiple ponies are reporting hearing voices on the winds.  Howls of rage and of hunger.  Nopony has seen a Windigo yet, though.”

            	“Pardon me if this is obvious to everypony else,” Rarity said carefully.  “But… why haven’t the Windigos shown up long before now?  With Equestria this far out of balance, I would have thought they made their chilly presence known much sooner.”

            	“We don’t know,” Heartwing admitted.  “Something has stopped them from overtaking Equestria with their blizzards.  But something has changed, and they’re starting to come back.”

            	“But you think the Elements are appearing in response?” Rarity guessed.

            	Heartwing nodded.  “I think so.  And I believe that the Windigos returning are a symptom of the disease the Elements are meant to fix, not the cause.”

            	“So we find the Elements, while keeping in contact with this other pony, Topaz, who is also apparently looking for the Elements.” Rarity nodded.  “So why Jubilation?  And what is this about a sea shanty?”

            	Heartwing grinned.  “Let me sing you a song.”

Heartwing tapped a hoof as he began to sing a rhythmic ditty about a princess entrusting a treasure with a pirate captain named Celeano.  Rarity’s mind wandered back to the adventurous captain herself.  It wasn’t hard to picture the pirate, her cocky grin or her dashing, heroic figure.  Another lost friend, another pang of loneliness in her heart.

Heartwing finished the song, and for a moment Rarity didn’t realize, still lost in her memories; long-lost pictures of a graceful airship, a brave crew, and even a very different song about being awesome.  She felt the moisture trickling down her cheeks before she even realized she’d started crying.

            	“Oh, come on!” Heartwing protested, breaking her out of her memory.  “My singing voice isn’t that bad.”

“It’s exactly that bad,” Ninelives deadpanned as he made a gagging motion with one hoof.  “Stop it.”

            	Rarity blinked to cover her own reaction.  The other council members were looking rather unimpressed with the song, appearing either annoyed or bored.

            	“Everypony’s a critic,” Heartwing moaned melodramatically.  “Well, if we’re through slandering my obviously superior singing skills, can we talk about the song?”

“Is it a true story?” Rarity asked.  “I mean, obviously the princess is Princess Twilight.   Did she really give one of the Elements to Captain Celano?”

“It’s possible. The Diarchy seems to think so; they’re searching the islands the song is likely referring to.  I’d like to look into it.”

“So,” Ninelives said, leaning forward lazily onto the table, “I suppose we can expect another expedition soon…?”

            	“One thing I’d like to add, before we go much further,” Rarity cut in before Heartwing could answer.  “Emberglow needs time to come to terms with everything that’s been happening.  She needs time to adjust to the changes.”

            	“It will take some time to arrange safe passage to Jubilation anyway,” Heartwing said, nodding.  “Besides, I’d like a chance to learn more about the Element of Laughter.  Some time should be fine.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	“Are you coming home for dinner?” Heartwing asked as they left the council room.  “Terminus said that he was going to meet up with Emberglow after her exploration to bring her home tonight.  She should be all moved in by now.”

            	“I’ll be along when I can,” Rarity said, nodding her head to a figure that was  waiting for them outside Town Hall.  Klieo had a pensive look on her face.  “It seems I have something to take care of with my business partner.”

            	“Um, Miss Rarity?” Klieo stepped over, with a respectful sort of curtsy for Sir Heartwing.  “There’s an issue with that friend of yours.  Miss Emberglow?”

            	“Oh dear.  Is everything all right?” Rarity asked.

            	“I… think so?” Klieo shrugged noncommittally.  “She’s at Colibri’s pub, and she seems like she’s having a hard time.  Colibri sent me to find you.”

            	Rarity and Heartwing shared a worried glance.

            	“I’ll go see what’s happening.  You head home.  Don’t wait up for us,” Rarity told him.  “Don’t worry, I’ll bring her home.”

            	“Good luck,” Heartwing sighed, before trotting off in the direction of his home.

            	Rarity felt a growing sense of worry as she followed after Klieo.  “Do you know what’s happening?”

            	“Not exactly,” Klieo shrugged.  “It’s not an emergency, if that’s what you’re worried about.  I think your friend just needs somepony to look out for her tonight, that’s all.”

            	“I see.  Well then, I hope I can be what she needs, tonight.”

            	The Cocoon was quiet, with few customers. Colibri stood behind the bar, and waved at Rarity when she entered, nodding towards the lone figure sitting at a round table in the center of the room.

 Emberglow was slumped over the table, her head resting in her folded forehooves, her gaze frozen on the mug that was set in front of her.  It was full of beer, and looked untouched.  Emberglow’s eyes were unfocused, though they flickered to Rarity as she entered.  She was still wearing the sun dress.

“May I join you?” Rarity asked politely.  Emberglow nodded wordlessly.  Rarity slid into a seat next to her.  “Colibri was worried about you.”  Emberglow gave her a puzzled look, and Rarity nodded to the bartender.  “Should she be?”

“I don’t know,” Emberglow whispered.  Her voice sounded hoarse.  “Probably.  I’m acting weird.”

“Weird?  How so?” Rarity tried to keep her voice gentle.

“I was fine when I left your shop, a few hours ago,” Emberglow began, one hoof reaching out to trace the side of the mug.  “I was fine.” The last came out with a harsh sob.  “Sure, you left me a little flustered, but I was feeling good.”  Rarity’s heart broke a little as she heard the desperation and tension in the mare sitting next to her.  “A few other ponies looked my way as I explored a bit on my own.  I don’t know what they were thinking, but they were looking.  I felt pretty.  Maybe for the first time in…”  she sighed.  “I can’t remember how long.”

“Emberglow…” Rarity breathed.

“I went to that bakery you recommended.  The stallions there were very nice.  I bought the prettiest, best looking cake they had.  Milk chocolate, with strawberries.  It was beautiful.  They’d colored the frosting pink, and there were strawberries all over the top.”  Her eyes suddenly focused on Rarity.  They were full of tears.  “I’ve spent my entire life controlling my desires and impulses, but I’m not ashamed to say I lusted after that cake.”

There was something in her voice that made Rarity dread what was coming.

“I went outside.  You know that little park, just a half block from the bakery?” Emberglow didn’t wait for Rarity’s nod.  “I found a bench, and was getting ready to dig in.  But, I couldn’t.”

Rarity cocked her head quizzically, and Emberglow sighed, sitting up slightly.

“Do you know about the vows we swear as Knights?  Your knights swear a vow of chastity, and a vow of poverty.  The words are, we ‘take no pay, and live in holy poverty’.  In practice, that means we basically own nothing.”  She hit the table with her hoof for emphasis.  “For the last few years, the only luxuries I’ve had have been ones bought and paid for by others.  I didn’t get paid.”  She patted her waist, and Rarity heard a clinking sound.  “This is more bits I’ve had in my entire life.  Possibly combined.”  She laughed, and it was a strangled, hysterical sort of sound.

“I ended up giving the cake to some foal and his grandpa, playing in the park,”  Emberglow snorted.  “I really hope I didn’t scare them, but I might have looked weird.  I just… couldn’t.”  She stared at Rarity, and her eyes were wet.  “I know it’s all made up now.  I know it’s all horseapples.  I know it’s wrong.  Then why do I still feel guilty!?”  She slammed her hooves down again, making the mug of beer jump and vibrate.  Rarity glanced nervously at Colibri, over at the bar, but the pub owner didn’t seem too worried about Emberglow possibly damaging her table.

Emberglow will have good days and bad days, Terminus had said.  Just like you do.  Today felt more like good hours and bad hours.  

“So next I came here,” Emberglow shrugged.  Her voice quivered.  “I thought m-maybe if I got d-drunk enough, I’d stop caring about how nothing makes sense any longer.”  She whimpered as she gestured to the still-full mug of beer.  “Did you know drunkenness is a sin?”  She gave another hysterical laugh.  “It isn’t, you see.  It’s all made up.  But if you could explain that to my guilt, that’d be great.”  Her head flopped down, burying her face in her forehooves as her shoulders shook with sobs.

Rarity opened her mouth, then closed it again, feeling utterly helpless.  The mare in front of her seemed such a far cry from the pony who had left the shop earlier, all blushes and smiles.  Her heart ached for something to say to make it all better, but what? 

“I...” she began, “I’m sure…” She paused, her mouth soundlessly forming words which seemed empty and meaningless. She couldn’t even begin to understand what Emberglow was going through, and it hurt.  

The silent tension between them suddenly became unbearable, and  she lamely reached forward and patted the crying mare on the shoulder, an impotent act of comfort. Rarity hated herself a little for not being able to come up with anything better. 

“Is there something I can help you mares with?” a voice suddenly asked. Rarity looked up with surprise. Colibri had stepped over from the bar, and was standing beside their table with a sympathetic smile.  It was just the salvation Rarity needed; Colibri had experience with this sort of thing.  She motioned to an empty seat next to Emberglow.

“Yes, Miss Colibri.  As you may know, Miss Emberglow here has recently arrived in our little city. She’s having a difficult time, and I’m finding myself quite helpless to assist.  Do you have a moment to share some perspective?”

“Sure,” Colibri sat, and Emberglow raised her tearstained eyes to meet Colibri.

“Sorry,” she whispered.  “I’m a mess.”

“We’re all a mess,” Colibri shrugged, with a smile.  “It just means you’re in good company.  Hi, I’m Colibri, and as a bartender and bar owner it’s my sacred duty to listen to all the troubles and woes of my customers.”

Emberglow laughed weakly, and held out a hoof for Colibri to shake.

“Nice to meet you.  I’m Emberglow.”

“I’ve heard about you, Emberglow,” Colibri said brightly.  “My friend, Galileo, plays music with his band here sometimes.  He mentioned that you were the hero that saved his kid.  Guess that means you’re drinking for free tonight.”

“I… but I…” Emberglow stammered, glancing at her mug.  “Um, I haven’t even finished my first one yet.”

“You haven’t even tried it yet,” Colibri raised an eyebrow.  “That’s my personal, homebrewed cream ale, Emberglow.  Are you going to insult me by not even tasting it?”  Emberglow gaped, and Rarity nearly opened her mouth to intervene, but a look from Colibri silenced her.

“N-no, but…”

“Take control, mare,” Colibri said, her voice firm.  “Own your decisions.  Own your choices.  Own your life.  Nobody controls you but you.”

Emberglow sat up with a grunt, and seized the mug.  She stared at it, her hooves shaking.  With one quick, jerky motion, she raised the mug to her lips and began to drink.  She didn’t stop, chugging the entire mug in small gulps until it was gone.  She then set the mug back down on the table dramatically.

“There.  I did it!” She sounded proud of herself, then her ears wilted as she shrank.  “Oh, Saints.  I’m proud of myself for drinking a single mug of beer.  How pathetic is that?”

“Not as much as you might think,” Rarity admitted.  She thought of her own first few days in Angels’ Rest, and each time she’d cried her eyes out in the bathtub at Terminus and Heartwing’s house.  “How was the beer?”

“Good?” Emberglow shrugged.  “I have very little experience, but it was sweeter than I expected.”

“You did have it sitting there for a while.”  Colibri pursed her lips thoughtfully.  “You really have to experience it ice cold, out of the tap.  I’ll go get you another.”  Colibri was up and prancing away before either of them could say anything.  Soon enough there was another mug, just as full, in front of Emberglow.  Colibri glanced apologetically at Rarity.  “Sorry.  I didn’t get anything for you yet.”

“I can wait,” Rarity replied, her eyes on Emberglow, who was staring at the mug.

“Own your choices, mare,” Colibri repeated, and Emberglow nodded.  She picked up the mug, looking even more confident this time as she began to drink.  This time she savored it, sipping slowly at the amber liquid.

“I actually really like it,” Emberglow said sheepishly, blushing a bit.  She fell silent, her eyes sinking to the table.  Rarity watched as Emberglow sat back in her seat, at least some of the tension leaking out of her muscles.  “How do you both know just what to say?”

Rarity was about to protest that she’d done nothing, that it had all been Colibri.  But the comment died on her lips, shrinking before the look of unadulterated gratitude on Emberglow’s face.

“It’s the same thing my dad told me.”  Colibri said.  “I was a lot younger, and it wasn’t beer.  It was putting on a dress for the first time.  It was all I’d ever wanted for years, and when it came time, I just… couldn’t.  If it hadn’t been for him I probably would have spent those first few weeks naked.”  She giggled.

“Putting on a dress?” Emberglow sounded confused.  

Colibri nodded gently.  “It was one of the ways I took control.”  Her gaze became distant.  “I’ve been where you are right now.  Many of us have.  Angel’s Rest is where the everypony that doesn’t fit into the Diarchy wash up, if they manage to survive.  I promise, it gets better with time.”

Suddenly the bell over the door rang, and a group of earth ponies trotted into the pub.  “Oops.  Looks like I have to go work.  One last thing.  Emberglow, it looks like you’re doing better now, but this isn’t gonna go away overnight, okay?”  Emberglow nodded.  “It may be tomorrow, it may be next week, but sometime soon you’re gonna go through all this again.  That’s perfectly fine.  When it happens, do me a favor.  Take control, and own your choices.  And if it gets too much, it’s okay to come to me for some liquid confidence, okay?”  She smirked and tapped Emberglow’s mug.

“Right,” Emberglow said, taking another sip.

“Great.” Her smirk widened into a smile. “Before I trot off, can I get you ponies anything to eat?”

“I would love another one of your delightful fried tofu salads,” Rarity said.  She glanced at Emberglow.  “I highly recommend them.”

“Sure, I’ll try one.”

“And to drink?” Colibri asked.

“I would love a cosmarepolitan,” Rarity said.  Emberglow eyed her curiously.  “Never had one?”  Emberglow shook her head.  “Well, I’d recommend them too, but you need to drink some water first.”

“Okay,” Emberglow said.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can then, with two salads, two cosmos, and some water,” Colibri winked at them.

Rarity waited a few moments before turning to Emberglow.

“Are you really feeling better, darling?” she asked cautiously.  Emberglow nodded slowly.

“A little, I guess,” she said.  “I’m just frustrated now.”  She waved a hoof impatiently.  “I’m just ready for this all to be over with.  All this drama, the scrambled eggs that make up my brain right now.”

“It takes…”

“Time, I know,” Emberglow growled, then shot Rarity an apologetic look.  “Sorry.”

“Think nothing of it, darling.”
> Chapter 34
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 34


Statement by Grand Master Steadfast Word, given to Knights Mystic.  Access by any other than Mystics strictly forbidden.


To All Knights Mystic


	Several rumors, half-truths, and outright lies are being circulated regarding the incidents that led to the death of Lady Nickelplate and Lady Hollybright.  The purpose of this memo is to clarify the events in question, and dispel some of the stranger rumors that have arisen.

	Two weeks ago, on the night of the murders, Lady Nickelplate and Lady Hollybright were meeting late in the Grand Master’s office.  A stallion approached the door and somehow managed to gain entrance without either mare alerting other Knights.  He was wearing Mystic armor, and armed with a spear.

	Once inside, he took both Hollybright and Nickelplate by surprise.  From what our investigators can surmise, Nickelplate was killed nearly instantly, while the heretic fought with Hollybright before killing her.  We believe both Knights fought with valor, and were only defeated due to stealth and trickery.

	Now, to dispel some concerns.  It has been suggested that perhaps Sir Brightblade was somehow involved.  This is a lie.  Brightblade was with me.  Perhaps the stallion heretic bore some superficial resemblance to Brightblade, but I would like to assure all that Brightblade was with me that evening.

	Even more distressingly, I have received evidence that perhaps the rumors of Brightblade’s involvement, in addition to some of the more strange and offensive theories as to why, may have been planted by the very same heretics behind this murderous plot in an effort to spread dissension in our fellowship.

	Therefore, from this point forward, I will consider any discussion of these suspicions, sharing them with outsiders or even colleagues, to be dissemination of heretical ideas.  These acts will be investigated accordingly.  If anypony hears somepony discussing these ideas, I ask that they report the incident to the nearest available High Inquisitor, or myself, whichever is more convenient.

Stay strong in the faith, and together we will make it through these trying times.

Sir Steadfast Word

Knights Mystic, Grand Master

1113 AF, Angel’s Rest

            	“This is where we’re going to talk?” Emberglow glanced around at the grassy hill that spread out underneath a night sky.

            	“Is this not okay?” Topaz asked.

            	Emberglow shrugged, giving a shy chuckle.  “It’s just not what I expected.”

            	“What did you expect?”

            	“I don’t know.  Don’t you have, like, an office?  With, like, a desk, and a fainting couch?  Credentials on the wall?” Emberglow asked.

            	Topaz giggled.  “I do have an office.  But it’s not like that.  Still, we could go there, if it would make you comfortable.  But since this is a dream, why don’t you just recreate your room?”

            	“I don’t have a room,” Emberglow muttered.  “I mean, there’s the guest room at Heartwing’s house, where I’m staying, but…”

            	“What about a foalhood bedroom?” Topaz asked.  Emberglow shook her head.

            	“We didn’t have a lot of space.  It was barely big enough to open the door, let alone fit two ponies,” Emberglow smiled, thinking fondly of her tiny room.  After a moment, an image appeared of the tiny bedroom, complete with an open door and a small bookshelf.  The room seemed to float in the air above them, connected to nothing.

            	“But remember, this is a dream.  Just imagine it larger,” Topaz said with a smirk. “Or...”  She stepped into the image of the room, seeming to shrink as she did so.  She giggled.  “Maybe we could just be smaller.”

            	Emberglow spread her wings and flew in after her, finding herself shrinking as she entered her room.  Soon enough, two foal-sized mares sat on Emberglow’s bed.  Topaz started to giggle as she bounced.

            	“Did your parents let you bounce on your bed?” she cackled as she bounced up and down.  Emberglow laughed at the foalish behavior.  Part of her wanted to bounce along.

            	“Of course they did,” Emberglow said.  “I didn’t do it often, but that’s probably because I was a very serious foal.”

            	“Oh yeah?” Topaz kept bouncing.  “What was your foalhood like?”

            	“Mostly studying and reading.” She flexed her legs, testing the springiness of the mattress and wondering. “Not that my parents made me, or anything.  It was my choice.”

            	“What did you like to study?” Topaz asked.

            	“Mostly medical texts.  I had read through Grey’s Pony Anatomy by the time I was ten.  Also the Book of the Saints.  I probably read that a hundred times.”

            	“It was very important to you?” Topaz asked. 

“Yeah.”  Her shoulders and ears slumped.  

Topaz stopped bouncing, wrapping a hoof around Emberglow in a tight hug. “That’s okay.  How are you feeling right now?”

            	“Angry.  Upset.  Confused.” Emberglow sighed.  “I don’t know.”

            	“Okay.  How about this: what did you like about the Book of the Saints?” Topaz asked.

            	“What did I…?” The question was completely unexpected, and Emberglow was nonplussed.

            	“It might help if you bounce while we talk about it,” Topaz said sagely as she began hopping again.  “If you want to.”

            	“Okay.” Emberglow wasn’t sure she did, but the smile on Topaz’ face was infectious, and she could hardly refuse it.  She began bouncing, making tiny, almost half-hearted hops.  “Um, when I was a foal, it was the stories.  I loved reading about the time Saint Fluttershy slew a dragon, or the time Saint Applejack and Saint Rainbow’s sparring match drew the entire city to watch.  Best of all were Saint Rarity’s tales, of course.”

            	“What about as an adult?  I mean, before you changed your mind on the whole thing.”

            	“It gave me purpose,” Emberglow said, after a moment of thought.  “It was everything.  It had the answer to every question, every problem, every single issue.  If I looked hard enough, that is.”

            	“Wow, that’s a pretty comprehensive book,” Topaz remarked.  Emberglow eyed her while she bounced, and Topaz laughed.  “It really does have answers for everything?”

            	“Well,” Emberglow said slowly after a pause, “no. No, I don’t think so. It is just one book, after all.”

            	“That’s not the faithful answer,” Topaz noted, with a small, cheeky grin.

“I guess it isn’t, is it?” Emberglow smiled back. Suddenly, she found herself bouncing a little higher, as if a weight just had been lifted off of her back. Her grin widened, and she spread her foal-sized wings on a whim, fluttering them with joyful energy. Topaz giggled at her antics, and started bouncing higher as well. For a moment, they were just two foals bouncing on Emberglow’s bed, laughing giddily.

After a short moment of this, Topaz began again, thoughtfully. “What was it about it, do you think?”

“Hmm?”

“The Book, I mean. What do you think made it so special, so much so that it might have solutions for everything?”

            	“Nothing, I think. It’s odd.” Emberglow shrugged, still smiling.  “I wonder if… we found the answers in the book we wanted to find.  Like, the answers came from us, but we didn’t even realize it.”

            	Topaz beamed, pausing her bouncing long enough to clop her hooves together gleefully.  “You just admitted that you’re smarter than you thought you were.  That makes me happy. So the answers to your problems were mostly coming from yourself?”

            	“Maybe?” Emberglow now wasn’t sure.  She realized just how arrogant it sounded, to assume that her own answers were somehow worth more than the wisdom of the Saints.  It was an unsettling thought, uncomfortable enough that she had to consciously shove aside the guilt and shame that came  with it.

“You don’t sound like you like the idea.”

“Well…” Emberglow stopped to think.  “It’s frightening.”

“Frightening?”

“To realize there’s no master key.  No magic bullet.  No one-size-fits-all solution to life’s problems.”

“That can be scary.  But it also means you’ve been finding your own answers, all on your own, your whole life.  Doesn’t it?”

“I guess.”

            	“I think so,” Topaz said, speculatively.  “You’re a smart pony, Emberglow.  I hear stories from Lofty all the time.”

            	“You guys talk about me?” Emberglow asked, suddenly self-conscious.

            	“He’s told me a lot about you,” Topaz said.  “I don’t say much back.  I would never share anything you share with me with anypony else, without your permission.  Lofty gets it, and he doesn’t press me.”

            	“You can talk to him about this stuff,” Emberglow said.  “It might be nice to know somepony’s going through the same things I am.”

            	“Okay,” Topaz said carefully.  “If you’re fine with it…”  Emberglow nodded, and Topaz smiled.  “Alright. So let’s get back to the Book.  I want to know something.  Now that you know it’s not true, is it…” She waved a hoof, her face screwed up with concentration.  “…evil?  Bad?”

            	“Yes?”

            	“What do you mean?”

            	“I don’t know,” Emberglow sighed, slumping as she paused in her own bed bouncing.  “Parts of it are bad, for sure.  Some of the stories are kinda true, but most of it is just made up.”

            	“Is it possible to separate out the bad stuff, and be happy about the good stuff you got from it?” Topaz asked. 

Emberglow shook her head.  “I don’t know if I can.  I’m still surprised every day at new things I’m learning that I’ve been mistaken about.  I still flinch when I see a griffon or minotaur on the street.  I still haven’t been able to go outside without clothing on.  And you remember the cake I told you about last week?  I still haven’t been able to go out and buy another cake.”

“Maybe that should be your homework for this week.  Buy a cake.”  Topaz actually sounded serious, which took Emberglow by surprise.

“Does that… Is that pathetic?” Emberglow whispered, hating how unsure she sounded.  “I mean, is Lofty dealing with this stuff too?”

“Hmm…” Topaz pursed her lips.  “He said something funny to me a few days ago.  He said, ‘I feel bad that I don’t feel worse about all of this.’  I think he knows you’re having a hard time, and he feels guilty that he’s not struggling as much as you are?”

“That’s… huh.”  Emberglow laughed a little.  “That makes sense.  He’s not really having as hard a time as I am, and that makes him feel guilty?  I can see him saying that.”  She grinned.  “He’s a sweet stallion.  Tell him not to feel bad, okay?”  She had a sudden inspiration, and she smirked.  “Give him a kiss for me, Topaz.”

It made her laugh loudly.  “He is the most excellent kisser,” Topaz admitted without a hint of embarrassment.  Emberglow joined in, genuinely happy that her friend had found such a kind and fun partner.

It was odd to hear about Lofty’s romantic success; odd but good, she supposed.  She’d always felt a little sad that she’d had to reject him, and was genuinely happy that he was enjoying his time with Topaz.  On the other hand, since she’d never viewed him in a romantic or sexual light, hearing about his relationship with Topaz felt like… seeing a sibling naked. Her eyes screwed up and she laughed at the comparison.

“What?” Topaz’ eyes twinkled with amusement.

“I just realized how weird it is to think about Lofty’s sex life,” Emberglow chuckled, reaching out impulsively to hug Topaz.  “But I’m happy for you both.”

“Speaking of love and romance, have you thought much more about what we talked about last time?” Topaz asked, then furrowed her brow.  “Hang on.  We look like foals, and we shouldn’t for this kind of conversation.”  

With a grimace of concentration from Topaz, there was a flash in the dreamscape.  They were still in Emberglow’s room, and it was still larger than usual, but both ponies were now teenage-sized, wearing pajamas.  Topaz’s mane was even done up in pigtails, and scattered about the floor were various makeover products, and even a few magazines featuring pictures of handsome stallions.

“W-what’s all this?” Emberglow stammered, bemused.  Topaz glanced about.

“Oh, whoops,” she giggled.  “Sorry.  Hang on.”  

Half of the magazines shimmered briefly, then transformed into pictures of glamorous mares instead of stallions. Emberglow jerked her gaze away with an instinctual flinch.  

Topaz tilted her head, looking at her curiously before continuing with a small smile. “Teenager sleepover accoutrements.  It seemed the appropriate setting to be talking about romantic subjects. Now I can braid your mane or do a makeover while you talk.”

“Okay,” Emberglow laughed.  “I never did the sleepover thing as a foal.  I was always busy.”

Topaz patted the spot of the floor in front of her.  “Well, I’ll do your mane.  Come here.”  Emberglow rolled her eyes at the silliness of it all, but played along, scooting over to sit in front of Topaz.  “Okay.  So last time you told me you’re having a hard time not feeling guilty every time you look at a mare.  How is that coming along?”

“Considering I just flinched away from a fake magazine cover just now?” Emberglow sighed.  “Not good, apparently.”

“It was an automatic response?” Topaz asked.

Emberglow nodded.

“Okay, let’s focus on that.  What went through your head?”  Topaz’ gentle hooves went to Emberglow’s mane, and she realized idly that it was longer than usual.  Probably because Emberglow’s normally short mane wasn’t conducive to braiding. 

“Nothing, really, I guess,” Emberglow admitted.

“So you didn’t even think about it?  You just flinched away from the picture of a pretty mare?”

“Yes.” Emberglow tried to nod, forgetting that Topaz was working on her hair.  With a tut of disapproval, Topaz tapped the back of her head, and Emberglow giggled.  “Sorry.”

“You’re fine.  So what about me?” Topaz asked.  “I’m an attractive mare, and you don’t flinch away when you see me.”

“No, I don’t,” Emberglow tried to think.  She knew Topaz wanted more, because she didn’t say anything as Emberglow continued to think.  “I guess, because in my head I know you’re not…” She looked for the right word.  “…um, available?  Like that?”  She cringed at her awkward phrasing.

“Is that how you are when you encounter attractive mares during the day?  You flinch away from looking at them until you’re sure they’re romantically unavailable?”

The idea was ridiculous, and Emberglow snorted.  “No.  Of course not.”

“Then why react to the magazine?”

“I guess because I know it’s supposed to be…” She paused.  “Um, sexual in nature?  That’s the wrong word, but you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I think I do.  The magazine covers are specifically made to emphasize glamor, beauty, and sexuality.  So what would happen if you ran into a mare in real life who was emphasizing those things?”

“You forget that I’ve been living in a house for the last few days with Rarity.” Emberglow grinned.  She barely stumbled over not putting ‘Lady’ or ‘Saint’ in front of Rarity’s name now.  “She’s always dressed to impress.”

“So how do you feel when you look at Rarity?”

Emberglow was filled with a panic so sudden and so complete that she froze.  The shared dreamscape suddenly wavered and dissolved, with both ponies suddenly floating in a starry void.

“Quite the reaction.  Do you want to talk about it?” Topaz asked mildly.  Emberglow turned, shamefaced, to see her expression.  It was neutral, but in Topaz’s eyes Emberglow saw the hint of an amused sparkle.

“Um, pass?” Emberglow ventured.  Topaz’s eyebrows arched, and Emberglow laughed nervously.

Topaz frowned slightly. “We... can, if you really want to. I’d like to talk about it, though.  And I think you have the courage to address difficult topics.”

Emberglow took a deep breath. “I think I have a crush,” she said in a rush. Topaz smiled.  “I’ve only felt like this once before and I”— Gadget’s face swam in her vision, and her eyes stung with tears —“I denied it.  Pretended it wasn’t… what it was.  We never talked about it. And then she died.”

“This is the pony you keep having nightmares about,” Topaz guessed, and Emberglow whimpered, but nodded.  “Oh, Emberglow.”  

She felt Topaz’s hooves encircle her, and she buried her face in the other mare’s shoulder.  

They stayed like that for a while before Topaz released her hug, placing her hooves on Emberglow’s shoulders as she continued. “Can we talk about this mare?  The one who passed?”

Emberglow breathed out a little reluctantly. “Her name was Gadget.  She was a marine.  We flirted.”  It was much easier to admit what had been happening, now that she knew it wasn’t sinful.  “We even went on a sort-of date, even though neither of us called it that.  We kissed, once, and then never really talked after that.  I think she blamed herself for starting it, but it wasn’t either of our faults.”  Her words wouldn’t stop, coming like a rush.  “I barely knew her.  I was so afraid to get closer, because I knew what she was.  I knew she was... like me.”

“You knew she was gay,” Topaz clarified.  “I’d rather not avoid the words, Emberglow.”

“Terminus says the same thing,” Emberglow said with a weak laugh.  “He told me that if I’m afraid of the words, that’s okay, but to not say them gives power to the oppressors.”

“He’s right,” Topaz said.  “I’m kinda excited to meet Terminus someday.  He seems like a wise soul.”  She shook her head.  “But we’re getting off the topic.  I’m glad you brought up this mare, Emberglow.  I’d like to ask some things about Gadget.”

“Okay.  I guess,” Emberglow sniffed.  She didn’t want to have this conversation.

The darkness around began shifting suddenly, reforming into a room that Emberglow was unfamiliar with.   It was an ordinary, mundane office, which almost felt odd after the strange environment they had just been in .  There was a desk and a wide couch.  The walls were decorated with abstract paintings in cool colors.  It was, oddly, homey.

“Welcome to my office,” Topaz said cheerfully.  “Have a seat.”

“Why are we here now?” Emberglow glanced around.

“Well, it takes concentration and the right mood to control a lucid dreamscape,” Topaz said.  “I figured I could maintain the stability of the location, while you struggled through some difficult topics.  You were telling me about Gadget?”

Emberglow slumped onto the couch.  It was clean, well-used, and pink.

“I said it before.  We were friends, but we never had a chance.  To be more, I mean.”  Regret burned in her, and made her throat ache.

“You think you could have been more?”

“In another world?” Emberglow laughed bitterly.  “Maybe.  I don’t know.  My mind keeps circling back into ‘what-if’s’ and ‘could-have-beens’.”

“It’s perfectly okay to think about things like that,” Topaz said.  “But I think sometimes it’s not very helpful.”

“I know.  But I can’t help myself.”  It came out as a whimper.  “She shows up almost every night now.  You and I have been meeting for a few days.  How many times have you interrupted a nightmare about her?”

“Every time,” Topaz admitted.

“I don’t want to forget her.  What we had…” Emberglow shrugged.  “I don’t know.  But it could have been wonderful.  But at the same time, I…” She was suddenly filled with frustration, almost rage, and she kicked the couch she sat on.

“Emberglow?” Topaz leaned forward, her eyes locked intently on Emberglow.

“I just get so angry about all of this sometimes.  You know, when I’m not sad, or terrified, or whatever else.”  She waved a hoof; her left, the one that held her rune gauntlet when she wore her armor.  “I’m a doctor.  I heal.  That’s what I do.  If you broke your leg, I know a spell that will fix it instantly.  Why isn’t there a spell to fix this?”

Topaz smiled sympathetically.  “You’re not the first pony who’s asked that.  But no, healing trauma takes more than magic.  It takes time, mostly, and support.  Close relationships, with ponies like myself, or Lofty.  Or your friends Heartwing and Terminus.  Maybe even a close relationship with Rarity.”

Emberglow blushed.  She knew Topaz was steering the conversation a bit, though she didn’t mind.

“I’ll be blunt.  If the opportunity came up to have a relationship with Rarity, a romantic one, would you take it?” Topaz said.  Emberglow closed her eyes, her face still hot, and she nodded.

“Yes,” she whispered.  “But I don’t know if that would ever happen.  I don’t know if I’m… stable enough right now.”

“That’s probably true,” Topaz nodded.  “But don’t close yourself off to the idea, okay?  I think some romance would do you good.”

“You’re just saying that because you’ve got it so good with my best friend,” Emberglow teased, though when Topaz blushed and giggled herself, she knew she’d hit on something.


*   *   *   *   *


            	Emberglow’s eyes opened to an unfamiliar room. She immediately tensed, panic gripping her chest as her eyes darted around. Green wallpaper, a slightly ajar window, a small bookshelf in the corner… oh. Right. She was staying in Terminus and Heartwing’s guest room.  

It was always a bit jarring to wake up in a room she didn’t recognise. It hadn’t been for long, but sometimes when she woke out of slumber she still heard the echoing of Brightblade’s hoofsteps, or the whistling swing of his club. Sometimes she woke up covered in sweat and hyperventilating in panic.

            	It wasn’t as hard as it could have been, thankfully.  Terminus and Heartwing’s guest room was built for comfort and rest.  She glanced about the decorations, still shadowed in the dim light of pre-sunrise. 

Emberglow climbed out of bed, glancing down at herself.  She was nude, and for a moment she steeled herself.  This would be the day.  She would take control of herself.  She would go outside.  She would show off her cutie mark, show off her talent to the world, and not let the Diarchy rule what she…

It was with a blush of shame that she stepped out of her room, wearing a dressing robe Rarity had provided for her.  It was beautiful, made of a wine-colored silk, but it felt like giving up.

“Next time,” she whispered to herself, knowing that she’d said the same thing the last few days, and would likely say the same the next few more.  She gulped, and trotted down the hall to the bathroom.

Doctor Plasma had told her she could take the bandage off today.  She’d also said Emberglow should have somepony with her when she did.  Emberglow knew what she’d meant; patients who had suffered disfiguring injuries could often have poor reactions.

Emberglow was also bucking tired of leaning on others for help.

She turned the faucet on to fill the tub with water before resolutely moving in front of the mirror.  She slipped out of the dressing robe and draped it over the edge of the sink, before steeling herself and looking up at the mirror.

The bandage was still wrinkled from Emberglow’s tossing and turning in her sleep.  She reached up and gripped one end with a tentative hoof. Slowly, she began to unwind it, her good eye locked firmly on the mirror.  With each pass of the cloth, her heartbeat pounded harder in her ears. Finally the cloth unwound all the way, and Emberglow let it drift to the floor, forgotten. 

Mutely, she stared at her reflection.  Instead of her usual light blue iris, there was a distorted, pale milky mass. She’d known the eye was gone.  She’d been coming to terms with it for days now.  Emberglow had never been a vain pony, not really.  But coming face to face with her ruined eye in the mirror was something else.  She had to turn, to clench her eyelids shut from the image, but it was still there, still branded into her memory.

At least her tear ducts still worked.

Emberglow took the rest of her bath in a numb sort of rush, trying not to think too hard about her eye.  When she was done, she stepped out of the tub and reached for her mane tie, then paused.  Rarity and Klieo had said it looked better down, hadn’t they?  She swallowed hard.

Oh, so now you’re dressing up for her?  Didn’t take long for you to start skanking yourself out for your pretty unicorn, did it?

She froze, halfway turned to the door. With shaking hooves, she snatched up the mane tie and held it, turning it over and over in her hooves.  She glanced at the mirror, her eye going over her appearance, and her still-damp mane for a few moments, before she cracked.  Looking away with shame, she pulled her mane back in a ponytail, with one small change: a single lock of mane, long enough to drape down over her face and hide her bad eye.

Nopony would notice, right?

Coward.

Emberglow shoved her thoughts (and the unwelcome voice) aside as got dressed in her dressing robe again and trotted towards the kitchen, which was already alive with the sound of clinking utensils and the hissing of a gas stove.

The kitchen was full of breakfast smells, and Emberglow inhaled deeply the aroma of ground coffee and something baking.  Terminus was at the stove, stirring a pot on the gas range.

“Morning. Have a seat, I’ll get you some coffee,” he glanced over at her with a smile, which faltered slightly when he looked at her.  She suppressed a cringe.  Of course he would notice her new hairstyle. It’d been absurd to think that he wouldn’t.  

“How’s Miss Topaz?” he asked, turning back to stirring his pot. She silently thanked him for not bringing it up.

“Topaz is doing well,” she answered.

“Did she give you homework?” Terminus asked.  She nodded.  At their first meeting, when Emberglow had mentioned that she was doing therapy with Terminus as well, Topaz had asked her to share her ‘assignments’ with Terminus.

“She told me to buy another cake.” Emberglow laughed nervously.  Terminus knew about the cake, too.  “She might have been kidding. I think. I don’t know.”

“Ooh, if you do, they’ve got a new cake at the bakery.  They call it ‘Better Than Sex’ cake.  You should really try it.”

“B-better than w-wha?” Emberglow’s brain went blank for a second.  “What is it made with?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but Terminus was already laughing at her discomfort.

“Chocolate and caramel, I think,” Terminus said.  “It’s just a silly name.  Good cake, though.”

“Um, is it?” she asked, then realized what she’d asked and hid her face in her forehooves.  Terminus smiled mysteriously at her.

“Well, that would be spoiling things, wouldn’t it?” he said slyly.  “You’ll have to find out yourself.”  He set down a mug of coffee in front of her.  “Here, drink up.  Do you have any plans for today?”

            	“I was going to visit Bubblegum again, and maybe find a quiet place to read.” Emberglow took a small sip from the mug. It was good coffee.  “I’m almost done with the book Galileo gave me.”

            	“The one about the griffon doctor?” Terminus asked.

            	“Yes.  He was really interesting.  A disciple of the griffon they call Gallus Freewind.  His name was Hippocrates, and he was pretty inspiring.”  Emberglow had been forming the beginnings of an idea from the writings of the ancient doctor, but she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to say anything about it yet.  She took a sip of her coffee, reveling in the dark, bitter taste.

            	“And after that?” Terminus asked.  He was driving at something, she could tell.

            	“Nothing specific,” Emberglow said.  “Did you have something in mind?”

            	“Well, if Miss Topaz doesn’t have homework for you, I might,” he said, crossing over to the table from the stove and setting a folded piece of paper on the table.  “I think it might be helpful for you to meet these two ponies.  Talk to them.”

            	“Who are they?” Emberglow asked, unfolding the piece of paper.  There were a pair of addresses; one was on a familiar street, Bellchaser Avenue, in the commercial district, and only a few blocks from Rebirth.  The other was clearly a residential home, somewhere she’d never bothered to visit.

            	“Just go meet them, you’ll see.”

            	“That sounds needlessly ominous,” Emberglow glared at him, and he smiled inscrutably. 

            	“Trust me.  I don’t want to taint your perceptions, or have you go into these conversations with assumptions.  Do it for me?”

            	Emberglow sighed. “Does it matter when?” she asked, trying to forestall the puppy-dog eye look she knew was coming.  It worked; Terminus appeared mollified.

            	“Whenever is fine, as long as it’s not too late.”

“Terminus…”  Something about this whole thing made her anxious.  “Is this really important?”

“I think it is.”

“But not enough to tell me where you’re sending me?”  Emberglow cocked her eyebrows.

“I’m worried if you knew, you wouldn’t go,” Terminus admitted.

“That’s supposed to make me feel better about the whole thing?”

“Not likely,” Terminus shook his head with a wan smile.  “But I’m going to have to ask you to trust me.”

            	Emberglow stared at him for a few silent moments.  “Okay.  I’ll stop by after I’m done visiting Bubblegum.”  Emberglow sighed again, trying her best to ignore the worry she was feeling at Terminus’ cryptic behavior.

            	“Any change in Bubblegum’s condition?” Terminus asked, concerned.  Emberglow shook her head.  “Well, we’ll just have to keep hoping.”

            	“I guess so,” Emberglow said, finishing up her coffee.  She said her goodbyes to Terminus before walking back to the room she was using.

“Oh, and Emberglow?” Terminus called just as she was at the door.  “You’re going to want to talk to Topaz about your eye.  Or I could.  Just, make it somepony, okay?  You can’t hide from this.”  

She froze. She almost turned around,  gulped and stepped out, not trusting herself to say any more.  It was all she could do to not flee from the room.

Coward.

            	Emberglow made it to her room and opened the closet, looking over the outfits she found there.  Against her protestations, somehow all three of the outfits she’d tried on at Rarity’s boutique had found their way into her closet.  She rolled her eyes fondly, and quickly pulled out the light grey sundress — which was quickly becoming one of her favorites — and pulled it on.

            	When she left the house, Rarity and Heartwing were still sleeping in.  It was probably better; Topaz had helped her come to some frightening conclusions regarding Rarity last night, and she wasn’t sure she was quite ready to face them yet.  Terminus was there in the living room to wish her well before she left.  She was nervous, but he didn’t say any more about her eye, thankfully.  Or her manestyle.

            	“I think it’s Rarity’s turn to cook tonight,” he told Emberglow as she made her way to the door. “I wouldn’t miss it; she has amazing taste, and she’s really skilled in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Terminus,” she said, meaning far more than just about the message regarding dinner.  He nodded with understanding.

It was odd to her how quickly she had gotten used to the strange way Angel’s Rest handled the day/night cycle.  She shielded her eyes from the magical sunlight that streamed from the massive crystal up above her.  Did it really have to be just as bright as sunrise, though?  

She wasn’t the only pony up and about as she trotted her way to the hospital.  There were even a few Knights about.  While most were dressed in yellow robes, a few had chosen to retain the colors of their old Orders, but with yellow stripes stitched into the forehoof sleeves.  She always took a moment to look closely at the Knights she saw, somehow both hoping and dreading that she’d see a familiar face.  But the Knights Discordant she saw were friendly but unknown to her.

There was a familiar pony in the hospital waiting room, though.  The older stallion receptionist brightened up as soon as she entered.

“Miss Emberglow!” He was nearly bouncing behind the counter.  “We were going to send for you, but Doctor Plasma said you’d be along shortly anyways.”

“Send for me?” Emberglow was confused.  “Does that mean…”

The receptionist nodded, beaming. Emberglow gasped, rushing past him towards Bubblegum’s room.  The door was open, but she slowed before dashing inside.  Excited, happy sounding voices flowed from the open door.

Inside, several creatures were crowded into the room.  Wind Storm and Galileo were both next to Bubblegum’s bed, and Doctor Plasma was nearby fiddling with the monitor.  Bubblegum still had a feeding tube and an oxygen mask on, but her eyes were open.  Even the foal was in the room, to the side, sleeping in the incubator, though his own feeding tube was gone.

Bubblegum was the first to notice Emberglow, her ears perking up.  She waved a hoof weakly in Emberglow’s direction, and the two males glanced up, their expressions tear-stained but happy.

“Emberglow!” Wind Storm called out.  “You heard the news!  Come say hi, I think Bubblegum wants to talk to you.”

Suddenly, her excitement and elation dissolved. The last time she and Bubblegum had spoken, things hadn’t gone well. Heart pounding nervously, she took a single shaky step towards the bed and stopped, her hooves feeling glued to the floor.

“C’mon, you silly mare,” Galileo laughed, wiping at his eyes with a claw.  “You think she’d still be mad at you after all that?  After you saved Spark?”  

A part of her did think exactly that.  But it was less about what Bubblegum thought, and more about the guilt that weighed down every muscle and limb.  With leaden slowness, Emberglow stepped over to Bubblegum’s prone form, while Wind Storm graciously made space.

Bubblegum’s eyes were lucid, and she beckoned Emberglow closer.  She couldn’t speak, because of the feeding tube in her throat, though when Emberglow reached her side she lifted a weak hoof and touched Emberglow’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Emberglow breathed.  “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t know.”  Bubblegum’s eyebrows narrowed, and she gently bopped Emberglow on the snout.  “Okay, I get it.  No more guilt.”  Bubblegum nodded.  She pointed weakly at Emberglow, then at the foal in the incubator.

“We told her about the name.  Bubblegum approves.” Galileo said.  Bubblegum was nodding, and she pointed at Emberglow’s hoof.  Confused, Emberglow lifted her hoof onto the hospital bed beside Bubblegum, who clutched it to her cheek, nuzzling Emberglow’s hoof as best as she could with all the medical equipment on her face.

“I… thanks, Bubblegum.  Thank you.  I don’t know what to say.”  Emberglow’s heart was full of joy; for at least a moment, all of her troubles, her struggles to rebuild her own identity, faded into nothingness.  “For what it’s worth,” she rubbed her jaw wryly.  “I forgive you for cold-cocking me earlier, too.  I kinda deserved it.”  Bubblegum shook her head in protest, but Emberglow laughed.  “I forgive you too, Bubblegum.  For everything.”


*   *   *   *   *


It was hard not to have a bounce in her step as she went to the first of the two mysterious addresses on Terminus’ note.  It was the address in the business district, on Bellchaser, close to Rarity’s shop.  When she finally reached the number on the note, however, she frowned and looked around, with not a little confusion.

“A cathedral?” she murmured, looking up at the building she found herself in front of.  Indeed, the building Terminus had directed her to appeared to be a two-story Diarchy cathedral, with a peaked roof and a large stained glass window depicting the six Saints.  The front doors were wide open, and she stepped inside, as nervous as she was curious.

The cathedral was arranged just like the ones she was familiar with back in the Diarchy; it was arranged with a semi-circle of statues to the Saints.  These statues, however, looked far different from any she was used to.  

Taking the central positions were Saint Fluttershy and Saint Twilight.  Fluttershy was prone, with her legs curled under her and a serene smile on her face.  One hoof gently patted the stone figure of a bunny in front of her.  Saint Twilight’s statue included a horn, and instead of stern and commanding, she appeared gentle and wise, with a small smile on her lips.  There was something perched on her back, between her wings.  It was an owl, its own wings spread in imitation of its master’s.

The other Saints were different as well.  Applejack wore a hat, and one forehoof was cocked in front of the other, a pose that perfectly matched her jaunty smile.  A grinning stone dog capered about her hooves.  Rainbow Dash was reared up on her forehooves, wings spread as if beginning a leap into the sky, and was accompanied by a smiling tortoise.  Pinkamena was…

Emberglow had to blink at the statue of Saint Pinkamena with a double take.  Rather than the serene smile she was used to, this statue bore a face-splitting grin, and was clutching… balloons?  And like the others, there was a pet as well, a baby alligator with its maw clenched around one of the Saint’s ears.

Finally, there was Saint Rarity, looking much more like the real Rarity than any statue Emberglow had ever seen.  She wore an elegant gown, and a fluffy looking cat curled around her hooves with an aloof expression on its face.  The statue seemed so much more full of life than any others Emberglow had ever seen in a cathedral; Rarity’s eyes nearly sparkled with an inner fire and a passion for life. 

Emberglow shook her head.  She was sure she was being silly, seeing things that weren’t there just because she’d met the real Rarity.  Still, she wondered what Rarity would think of this statue version of her.

            	“Not like the cathedrals back at the Diarchy, is it?” came a voice from behind her, and Emberglow jumped.  Looking behind her, she saw a sight that sent a chill down her spine.

            	A pegasus stallion dressed in confessor’s robes stood behind her.  He had fur so white it was almost translucent, and a long, rainbow colored mane tied back in a ponytail that almost reached to his hooves.  He watched her patiently, keeping his distance while she tried to calm herself.

            	“Sorry, you startled me,” Emberglow said.  She waved a hoof about her.  “What is all this?  What… what are you doing here?”  She knew she sounded rude, and felt a touch poorly about it, but she needed to know.

            	He laughed.  “Hi, I’m Prism Glass.  Nice to meet you.”  Emberglow cringed at the gentle rebuke.  “Sorry, I had to tease.  I do get that question a lot.  What’s your name?”

            	“Um, Emberglow.”  She watched him warily.

            	“Have a seat, Emberglow,” Prism said, gesturing to one of the benches.  “I’m guessing you’re a pretty new arrival to Angel’s Rest?”

            	“I’ve been here about a week, but much of that was in the hospital,” she said warily.

            	“That makes sense.  You seem tense, so let me start with this.  You’re completely safe here, Emberglow.  I am not a regular confessor, the Diarchy has no power here, and there’s not going to be any inquisitors or Knights coming to drag you back to whatever Tartarus you had to escape to get here.”

            	“But…” she waved a hoof at the building, the statues, his robes.  “Um… what?”

            	“Do you want me to start at the beginning?” he asked patiently. 

Emberglow nodded dumbly.  

He smiled, sitting down on the bench. “I’ve been a confessor since I was nineteen, but I was always a bit of an iconoclast.  My seniors thought I asked too many questions, but it was just that too much of the Book of the Saints didn’t make sense to me.  I couldn’t understand why a book that taught so many beautiful things could create so much conflict and misery.  In my work as a confessor, I knew ponies who had been ostracized and persecuted by the Diarchy.  The more I expressed those concerns, though, the angrier my superiors became.  Finally, I had to flee my own cathedral one step ahead of a party of very inquisitive Knights Mystic.”  He laughed.  “This was the only place to offer me safety.”

            	“But it’s all a lie,” Emberglow said.  “The Book… it’s practically made up!”

            	“True.” Prism nodded thoughtfully.  “Tell me, Emberglow, have you ever read fiction?”  Emberglow gaped at him, shaking her head.  He nodded.  “Of course.  Well, just because it’s mostly fiction doesn’t mean there’s not stuff we can learn, right?”

            	“But what about all the things in there about unicorns?  About gay ponies?”

            	“Utter garbage,” Prism stated firmly.  “I’ve taken a black marker to those spots in my own copy.  I certainly don’t teach that stuff to the rare ponies that still come to me for guidance.”

            	“But… you can’t…” Emberglow trailed off, confused, before she stopped.  What did it matter?  Who cared what he did or didn’t teach from the Book?  Who was going to stop him, or tell him he was wrong?  “Sorry.”

            	“Don’t be,” he smiled sympathetically.  “I understand the impulse perfectly.  What I do here is the deepest of heresy.”

            	“How does it work?” Emberglow was curious despite herself.

            	“Exactly how I said it.  I take what’s good, and discard the rest.”  Prism shrugged.  “I spoke extensively with Heartwing about all this.  He said even back when the Saints were alive, nopony knew what happened when a pony died.  Who’s to say maybe we aren’t reborn into a better situation if we live our lives virtuously?”

            	Emberglow stared at him, openmouthed.

            	“But… it’s not true,” she whispered.

            	“The way I see it, it’s my job to provide what wisdom and guidance I have, with whatever form of spirituality you choose,”  Prism said.  “If my version of the Saints doesn’t help you, then I wish you well on your journey.  I have a feeling that something drew you in here, though — may I know what that is, before you leave?”

            	“Terminus said I should drop by.  He gave me a pair of addresses, and said nothing else.  This one, and one other.”

            	“May I take a look?” Prism asked.  Emberglow nodded, passing over the paper.  She watched his eyes narrow slightly, looking puzzled, then widened with surprise.  He passed the note back to her.  “I have some questions for you, if you don’t mind?”

            	“Go ahead,” Emberglow said carefully.

            	“Knight Terminus is concerned about you, so he suggested you come see me.  There’s something he thinks you can gain from this meeting,” Prism theorized.  “He often sends ponies to me who can’t decide what they want to do with themselves after their faith has changed.” He paused, looking at her as if for confirmation.

            	“That’s… accurate,” Emberglow admitted.

            	“Okay.  So I’ll tell you what I tell everypony.  Remember my story?  Do what I did.  Take everything that was good about the faith, about the lessons you learned from the Saints, and keep it.  Everything else gets cast aside.”

            	“How can you make it sound so easy?” Emberglow asked.  Prism’s gaze was sympathetic, and he reached out to touch her hoof.

            	“It’s not easy, and it doesn’t happen quickly.  But it starts with giving yourself permission to keep the good.”  He sat down at one of the benches, and motioned for her to join him.  She sat, her thoughts churning.  “So tell me.  Is there anything from the Book that you know you’re going to reject?”

            	“Everything it ever said about gay ponies.  Or unicorns,” Emberglow blurted, then flushed with embarrassment, wondering briefly what he would think about that revelation.  But Prism was nodding serenely.

            	“Many ponies start there.  Angel’s Rest draws those who don’t fit into Diarchy society.”  He nodded approvingly.  “It’s a good place to start.”

            	“What if I threw out the whole Book?” Emberglow asked.

            	“That’s fine too,” Prism shrugged.  “There are no rules here, Emberglow, and no dogma.  Just your needs, and your goals, and what kind of pony you want to be.”

            	She looked at him in surprise.  It was honestly not the kind of sentiment she expected to hear from a confessor, even a heretical one.

            	“Think about it,” he said with a grin.  “It could help you with the things you’re struggling with.”

            	Emberglow was silent, and Prism stayed quiet as well, letting her think.  Her gaze drifted over the statues of the Saints, looking between each one, taking a strange sort of comfort in the simple joy they seemed to radiate.

            	“Can I tell you my story?” she said softly.  Prism’s face filled with joy, and he nodded. 

            	Emberglow lost track of how long she spoke after that.  She found herself spilling her whole tale, from medical school to today.  For his part, Prism Glass was a good listener, only speaking to ask a few short, clarifying questions.

            	“You’ve been through so much,” he said finally, wiping at wet eyes when she finished speaking.  “Thank you for sharing.  Terminus was on the right track by sending you here.”

            	“I don’t think I have room in my life for the Saints any longer.” Emberglow shook her head.  For the first time since she’d met him, Emberglow was a little frustrated with Terminus.

            	“That’s not what I was suggesting,” Prism backpedaled gently.  “If you walk out those doors and I never see your face again, I would be okay with that, as long as you were happy.  I meant that during my time here, I’ve seen a lot of ponies that have gone through what you did, Emberglow.  You’re not unique in your suffering.  There are hundreds of ponies here who can relate to what you went through, and who have had to rebuild themselves after they lost their faith.”

            	“So Terminus sent me here just to meet you?” she wondered.

            	“Probably.  To see that it’s not all bad.  That there’s hope on the other side of the dark ravine.” 

Prism fell silent, and Emberglow glanced around her, looking at the Saints that were both familiar and unfamiliar to her.  They looked so happy; not stern leaders or bastions of purity, but ponies.  Real ponies, with real lives.

“Bubblegum.” Emberglow’s sudden outburst broke the silence, and she laughed at Prism’s nonplussed look.  “You said to keep the good.  I saved a life.  Two lives.  Because of my Knight training, Bubblegum and her foal are alive.”

“It’s a good start,” Prism nodded.  “I hope you’re glad Terminus gave you my address now.”  He glanced back at the note, and a look of worry crossed his face.  “That other address, though…”

            	He trailed off silently, and Emberglow waited a while for him to continue.  When he didn’t, she spoke.  “You know who it is,” she stated.

            	“I do.  And I know Terminus means well.  But this—“ he motioned to the paper  “—might be too soon for you.”

            	“Who is it?”

            	“His name is Night Eye.  He was an astronomer, before his family fled the Diarchy.  Now he runs a small café in town.  He’s by himself now; his wife left him years ago, and now both of his foals have passed.”

            	“His foals?”

            	“Sunrise died a few years back, in a raid.  Night Star just recently.” Suddenly all Emberglow could hear was the pounding of her own heart.  It was deafening; the sound drowned out everything else Prism was saying.  No.  No, there was no way.

“Why?” she managed to croak.  Her ears were ringing.  Her brain wouldn’t form any more words, and her unfocused eyes sought out the confessor’s.

  “Terminus would not have suggested that you go see Night Eye if the stallion himself hadn’t offered.  Terminus isn’t cruel.”

            	A name.  Another name.  Night Eye.  Not dead, like his son, but yet another name to add to her list of guilt.  Emberglow almost didn’t hear that last bit.  She was breathing hard.  Hyperventilating, her brain supplied.  Suddenly she felt a warm embrace as Prism was hugging her, squeezing her comfortingly with his hooves, shushing her gently.

            	“Shh, shh.  It’s okay.  You’re safe here.  Nopony is judging you for what happened.  Night Eye certainly won’t.  But if you don’t think you can go see him, that’s okay too.  There’s no shame in that, either.”

“How can he not?!” Emberglow shrieked.  “I killed his son!”

“You’ll see when you meet him.  Night Eye is not that kind of stallion.”

            	It was like his words were spoken softly from far away, deep within the black void that suddenly surrounded Emberglow.  She couldn’t get her thoughts straight; they spun about her dizzily like debris in a whirlwind.  She didn’t know how long she sat there, taking comfort in the friendly embrace, but it must have been a while.  

By the time she realized she’d stopped panicking, he was holding a handkerchief out to her.  She took it gratefully and wiped her eyes.

            	“I’m going to do it,” she whispered.

            	Prism’s eyes widened with shock. “Are you sure?”

            	“Terminus thinks I have to get this done.  He thinks there’s something important for me to learn.  He hasn’t been wrong before…”

            	“Nopony’s perfect, Emberglow,” Prism warned.  “But if you’re determined, I’d be happy to go with you.”

            	“No, I think I can manage,” she said.  Prism was practically a stranger, after all, despite the fact that he’d just comforted her through yet another panic attack.  “Thank you.  For everything.  Um…” she paused, searching his face.  “I don’t know if I’ll ever be back.  It might be best for me to make a clean break with the Book, and with that part of my past.  But I don’t know for sure.”

            	“Whatever happens, I wish you well, Emberglow.”  Prism nodded confidently, his smile comforting and warm.  “Whether I see you again or not.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	Emberglow left the cathedral overshadowed by a cloud of mixed feelings.  On one hoof, she was feeling a little bit more confident with the decisions she had to make going forward.  On the other hoof, the harder she thought about where she was going, the more leaden her hooves felt.

Are you expecting some sort of absolution?  Forgiveness?  You don’t deserve forgiveness.

It wasn’t Gadget’s voice.

You don’t deserve to speak with Night Eye.

            	This time, when a face floated in her mind’s eye, it wasn’t Gadget’s blank stare, but another.

You think this will exorcise your demons?  You don’t know anything.  I’m never going away.

With a whimper, Emberglow shook her head and drove herself forward, dashing down the street towards the address.  She wasn’t worried about getting lost; the streets in Angel’s Rest were well-marked, and there were enough other creatures about to give her directions if she needed them.

            	Maybe she could outrun the voice in her head, and the face in her mind.

You’re delusional.

            	Emberglow reached Night Eye’s café, a small building with a colorful cloth awning spread over a collection of wrought iron outdoor tables.  The stallion himself was outdoors as well, clutching a broom in his hooves as he swept between the tables.  His eyes were on the ground, and he didn’t notice when she was walking up.

            	He didn’t notice when she froze, a leaden statue in the middle of the street.

            	He didn’t notice when Emberglow saw his eyes, shuddering in utter terror at how familiar they were.

            	Then he looked up, and his eyes, those far too familiar eyes, were full of sadness and compassion.

            	Emberglow spun and fled.


*   *   *   *   *


The others were talking about her when Emberglow finally stepped out of her room that evening, hours after she’d secluded herself inside after fleeing Night Eye’s cafe.

            	“And that was it?  The poor dear just sprinted in here and locked herself in her room?” Rarity spoke with alarm. 

            	“I don’t even think she stopped long enough to make eye contact,” Heartwing replied sadly.

            	“This is my fault,” Terminus mourned.  “I was the one who sent her to Night Eye.  I really thought it would be a good idea.  Night Eye himself suggested it.  I was speaking with him, and mentioned how she was struggling…”

            	“Don’t you dare torture yourself over this, darling.  Just as Night Eye is willing to forgive Emberglow, I’m sure she’ll be willing to forgive you.”

            	“I am,” Emberglow stated simply, stepping around the corner into the dining room.  All three ponies jumped when she entered.  “Sorry to eavesdrop.  I was in the hallway.”

            	“Sorry, Emberglow,” Heartwing said.  “We started dinner without you.”

            	“It’s my fault,” she eyed the table, with its fragrant array of dishes.  Her stomach rumbled; she’d been hiding in her room for hours.  “You knocked.  I was just busy thinking.”

            	“Thinking?” Rarity said nervously.  Emberglow nodded confidently.

            	“I’ve been a mess recently,” she admitted ruefully, holding up a hoof to forestall the protests from all three ponies.  “You all know it.  Sometimes I feel like I’m getting better, then I fail again like I did at the café.”

            	“Emberglow, I…”

            	“Stop, Terminus.  I want to sit down and join you all for dinner, and then I have something really important I want to say,” Emberglow said, sitting at the table with the others. Carefully, she slipped the book she’d been carrying under her wing onto the table next to her.  All three other ponies glanced at it.

            	“That’s the book Galileo gave you,” Terminus mentioned.  “The one about the griffon doctor.”

            	“Yeah,” Emberglow nodded.  “When I fled home, after locking myself in my room, I needed something to distract me.  So…” she motioned to the book with one wing.  “I read.  A lot.”

            	“Losing an entire afternoon because of a good book?” Heartwing’s voice was light and teasing.  “That doesn’t sound like anypony we know, does it?” he gently nudged Rarity with a smile, and Rarity rolled her eyes.

            	“It just means she’s in good company, you silly stallion,” Rarity shot back with an amused look, before turning concerned eyes back on Emberglow.  “You seem to be doing better than before.  You found your reading helpful, at least?”

            	“Very,” Emberglow said vaguely, glancing at the curious faces that surrounded her.  She tried to resist a slightly smug smile.  “What’s for dinner?”

            	Heartwing scowled at her, and Terminus gave a small laugh.  “Rarity and Heartwing made kabobs and salad.  Dig in, your big reveal can wait,” he said.  But Emberglow didn’t want to wait.

            	“I think…” Emberglow began, noting the way everypony froze just slightly, their ears perking in her direction.  “I think I’d like to join the Discordant.  With conditions.”

            	“Okay,” Heartwing said.  “Terminus said you didn’t want to kill anypony any longer.”

            	“That’s it, really,” Emberglow said.  She wasn’t sure if she was excited or afraid.  Probably both.  “I won’t take life anymore.”  

            	“Do you mind if I ask a question?” Heartwing said.  Emberglow nodded.  “If you’re worried about taking life, why join the Discordant at all?  You could easily find a home here as a doctor.  I know Doctor Plasma has mentioned wanting to hire you.”

            	Emberglow grinned.  She knew that too; the doctor said something whenever she saw her.  “I know.  But I didn’t join the Knights because I wanted to heal.  I did it because I wanted to walk in Saint Rarity’s hoofsteps.”  She glanced apologetically at the real Rarity.  “I don’t just want to heal injury, I want to prevent it.  I want to protect and shield my friends.”  She waved a hoof, taking in the whole of the dinner table.

            	“Don’t misunderstand,” Heartwing smiled proudly at her.  “Your condition won’t stop you from joining the Discordant.  I simply wanted to know where your heart is.”

            	“I think…” Emberglow breathed, her throat tight.  “I’d like to think it’s where it’s always been.”

            	“I would be proud to have a mare like you in my Order, Emberglow, conditions and all.” Heartwing said.

            	“That’s not all,” Emberglow said.  Her heart was pounding, and there was a flash of light from around her neck, where the Element of Honesty sat underneath the neckline of her dress.  She looked down, then glanced back up at the ponies around her.  She felt suddenly self-conscious; all three stared intently at her, feeling the gravity of the moment as much as she did.  “Um…”

            	“We’re all here for you, darling,” Rarity reached out and patted Emberglow’s hoof.  Terminus was smiling, and even Heartwing’s regular smirk was somehow comforting and supportive.

            	“I was reading something.  In the book.”  She glanced at the book, her mind drifting back to the stories of the ancient griffon doctor.  “Ugh.  I’m telling it wrong.”  She shook her head, blushing with embarrassment and frustration.  Her thoughts were jumbled, coming out in the wrong order.  Once again she looked at the ponies around her, and found nothing but patience and support.  “When I became a Knight, I swore oaths to Saint Rarity.  I know now those oaths meant nothing, because the pony I was swearing them to was a fiction.  A lie, and a disgrace to the real Rarity.

            	“I’m sure Knights Discordant swear something,” she continued, and Heartwing nodded.  “But I needed more.  You all know I’ve been struggling with a lot of stuff.  And then while I was reading this book, I read about the oath that griffon doctors swear when they finish their training.”  She dug deep and pulled up as much confidence as she could manage.

            	“I swore my last oaths to a fiction, a lie.  I’d like to swear my next one to the three of you.” Emberglow glanced at Rarity, who was dabbing delicately at her eyes with a napkin.  “Especially you, if that’s okay.  I’d really love the real Rarity to hear my oath.”

            	“I would be honored,” Rarity replied.

            	“I had to change the words a bit, so that they’d make sense for ponies,” Emberglow muttered, her confidence faltering just a little.  “So if it sounds weird, it’s…”

            	“Don’t second guess yourself,” Rarity whispered.  “Please.”  Emberglow nodded and began to speak before she could stall any longer.

            	“I swear by Celestia the Sun, and by Luna the Moon,” she began, intoning the words she’d arranged and memorized earlier this afternoon.

            	“I swear by all the immortals, making them my witnesses, that I will carry out according to my abilities this oath and this indenture.

            	“Into whatsoever houses I enter, I will enter to help the sick, and I will do no harm or injustice to them.  

“I will respect the hard-won scientific gains of those in whose hoof-steps I walk, and will gladly share that knowledge to those that will follow me.

“And whatsoever I shall see or hear in the course of my profession, if it be what should not be published abroad I will never divulge, holding such things to be holy secrets.

            	“Now if I carry out this oath, and break it not, may I gain for ever reputation among all ponies for my life and for my art; but if I break it and forswear myself, may the opposite befall me.”
> Chapter 35
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 35


EVOE Radio broadcast, dated 1113 AF

Aurora Morning: Good morning.  You’re listening to one oh three point nine, EVOD, the voice of the Diarchy.  I’m your host Aurora Morning.  My co-host, Fiery Muzzle, won’t be joining us today; he’s home sick with a cold.  Get better, FM!  Instead, I’m joined this morning by a very special guest, Sir Frosty Monsoon of the Knights Jubilant.  He’s here this morning to talk about a discovery he and his fellow Jubilants have made regarding the recent inclement weather.

Frosty Monsoon: Thank you, Aurora.  I’m happy to be here.

A.M.: So can you tell us why our skies are getting flooded with snow clouds?

F.M.: Well, Aurora, nothing is proven yet.  But for the last few months, I’ve been part of a joint research team between the Jubilant and the Mystics, working on this very problem.

A.M.: That sounds important. Are you sure we’re allowed to talk about this stuff?

F.M.: It has been classified until very recently.  Now, I’ve been authorized to share some of our findings with you all.

A.M.: Well, don’t leave us hanging, Sir Frosty!

F.M.: Very well.  Our research indicates that there very well may be a theological aspect to our weather problems, rather than simply scientific.

A.M.: How so?

F.M.: Recently released records held by the Mystics suggest that this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.  There’s some documented evidence that, hundreds of years ago, the Saints became rather dismayed at the behavior of ponies, their laxness in following the Book, and the way they fraternized too closely with unicorns.  They sent the weather as a reminder to ponies to stay humble and to remember them.

A.M.: You think the same might be happening again?

F.M.: We believe so, yes.  That’s why, the Knights Jubilant, along with our brothers in the Mystic, are declaring a Season of Renewal.  We will beat back this foul weather with the light of faith and obedience.  Each pony in the Diarchy is asked to rededicate themselves to the will of the Saints.  Over the next several weeks, we will be instituting several new programs to fight against complacency and heresy, renew our service to the Saints, and strengthen our faith.

A.M.: That all sounds so exciting!  But that’s not all, is it?

F.M.: No it isn’t, Aurora.  As an additional offering to the Saints, the Knights Jubilant, working closely with our Mystic brothers and sisters, have a spectacular announcement to make.  Though some of you may already be well aware, the Diarchy has recently opened diplomatic relationships with our wayward crystal cousins in the north.  We wish to announce to all that my sister in faith, Lady Turquoise of the Jubilant, has made landfall in the Northern Empire and has begun the tireless work of bringing those ponies to the light of the Saints.

A.M.: All our prayers go with you, Lady Turquoise.

1113 AF, New Canterlot City

            	The interior of the carriage was a bitter memory to Lofty, a piece of a life he’d tried to leave behind.  He hated the implication, the pretense of it all.  He hated being carted around by other ponies, being seen as above those who labored on his behalf.  He hated being so separate from others, walled off by wood and satin and social status.  He hated that appearances had to be maintained.

            	“Boo!” his marefriend cooed cheerfully as she popped the carriage door open.  Lofty couldn’t help the wide smile that split his muzzle.  He held out a hoof to help her into the carriage, and she sidled up alongside him, their hips touching on the seat.  Without hesitating in the slightest, Topaz leaned over and kissed him, her lips pressing against his with passionate abandon.

“Did you miss me so much?” he said when he came up for air.  She giggled, only a hint of a flush on her orange cheeks.  “It’s only been two days.”

            	“Maybe you’re just irresistible,” Topaz said while laughing. “You can probably expect me to be a bit hoofsy for the entire trip.”

            	“I think I can put up with that,” he noted, gently brushing one hoof along her mane as he pulled her close for another quick kiss.  When they broke, he held his forehead against hers, reveling in her warmth.

            	Topaz was a balm to his worries, and her presence filled the void in his life that he hadn’t even realized was there.

            	“So where are we going, lover?” she asked him gently.

            	“My sister finally agreed to let us use the family cabin.  I’m taking you skiing in the mountains.”  She smiled, looking pleased, though he still had one last surprise for her.  “If there’s time, I think we might even make snowponies.”

            	She gasped, her eyes alight with excitement.  With a touch of amusement, he realized that Topaz probably would be just as excited about actually making snowponies.  But this was a code phrase they’d spoken about, in his dreams, days ago.

            	If everything he’d set into motion worked out, they were on their way to Old Canterlot.  Righteous Tale had offered to make all the arrangements, but Lofty had insisted that he only make introductions to the various agents.  His grandfather had complained, but Lofty insisted.  If he was to be in charge of this task for the family, he would have to learn how to manage on his own without Righteous micromanaging everything.

            	There was a knock on the door of the carriage.  Lofty cracked it open to reveal one of the earth pony servants, dressed in Tale family livery, bowing respectfully. “The madam ambassador’s luggage is stored, sir, and we’re ready to depart,” he said.  

Lofty nodded. “Thank you, good stallion.  You may depart whenever you are ready.”

            	“Of course, Master Lofty.  The trip to the cabin should take about five hours.  Please inform us if you or the ambassador need a break.”

            	Lofty nodded his thanks and closed the door.  With a gentle lurch, the carriage began rumbling towards its destination.  He settled back next to Topaz, wrapping a hoof around her and pulling the two of them into a comfortable snuggle.

            	“So who’s watching True for the weekend?” Topaz asked, concerned.  It warmed his heart every time he saw how taken she was with his son.

            	“He’s spending the weekend with Grace.  They’re going to the circus, and I think she mentioned that she was going to tour his preschool.  He’s pretty excited.”

            	“Is everything okay with your sister?” Topaz asked.  From the tenseness in her body, he could tell she knew just how loaded that question is.

            	“For now,” he replied slowly.  There was no other way to say it, and he didn’t think the uncomfortable status quo would last long. “With what’s happening, I don’t see them getting any better, either.”  They’d long ago decided to be careful about everything they said out loud, but she nodded with understanding.

            	“I’m sure everything will turn out fine,” she nuzzled against his neck, her voice full of boundless optimism.  “Oh!  And I have some good news.  It turns out I’m real.”

            	“Um, congratulations?” Lofty was confused.  Topaz laughed.

            	“A friend of yours was concerned that I might be a figment of her imagination.  She came up with a clever way to prove I really exist.”

            	“How’s that?” Lofty asked.

            	“Hmm…” Topaz mused coyly, and he laughed.  That was fine.  It wasn’t something they necessarily wanted to talk about.  It wasn’t that it was likely they were being overheard right now, but they had both decided to play things as safely as possible.

            	“Well if you’re not gonna say, at least tell me how she’s doing?”

            	“She’s… better.” Topaz sounded uncomfortable answering the question.  She took her job very seriously, especially the part where she’d promised not to divulge the secrets of anypony she was helping.  Topaz had told him that Emberglow had given specific permission, though, so she had shared at least some of the details of their session with Lofty.  “It helped to hear what you said.”

            	“Good.  I’m glad.” Lofty didn’t want to pry, but it was nice to have a line of communication with his oldest friend, even if it was second-hooved.

            	Both ponies lapsed into a comfortable silence as the carriage rolled towards their destination.  Lofty was doing his best to relax, though he felt the tension of excitement in Topaz’ body as she pressed it next to his.  The atmosphere in the carriage was heavy with the unspoken, the curiosity and fear and anticipation of things they couldn’t talk about. 


*   *   *   *   *


            	Four hours into their journey, the carriage slowed to a stop, and there was a knock on the door.

            	“I’m sorry to interrupt, master Lofty,” the porter was at the door.  “We’ve reached a roadside inn, and the ponies that run the facility have given us some bad news.”

            	“Nothing too dire, I hope,” Lofty said with faked concern.  He’d been expecting this.

            	“It seems the road ahead has been buried in deep snows.  It would be unsafe to pass by, perhaps even impossible.”

            	“That’s awful,” Lofty gasped, perhaps a little melodramatically.  A sidelong glance from Topaz let him know he was overacting just a little.  “Well I certainly wouldn’t want to endanger the lady.  We’ll have to see to the accommodations of this roadside inn.”

            	“I’ve been here before, sir.  Years ago.  It’s perhaps not up to your family’s standards but it’s comfortable.”

            	“You forget, good stallion, I spent several months in the Ivy Seminary.  I’m used to roughing it a bit, as it were.”  The porter flinched to be reminded of Lofty’s disgrace.  “That is, if the lady doesn’t object.”

            	“I suppose we don’t have a choice,” Topaz demurred, though her eyes sparkled with amusement and curiosity. 

            	“Very well, we shall do our best to enjoy ourselves in this…” He made a show of glancing out the window.  “… rustic establishment.”

            	In truth, Lofty loved the look of the inn; it reminded him of something out of a foal’s fairy tale.  It was three stories tall, made of dark stained wood.  He could see quaint, faded floral curtains in each window.  The front lawn was dusted with snow, and somepony had set up snowpony decorations out front made of painted wood.  They were arranged out front in a variety of poses, from engaging in a snowball fight to making snow-pegasi and building snow forts.  He heard Topaz make a coo of delight from beside him, clopping her hooves together at the sight. 

            	“Ooh, let’s go in and see the inside,” Topaz gushed.  There was no need for her to act; she seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself.

            	“Very well.  You stallions, very nicely done.  Smooth ride, the entire time.  I’ll arrange a room for you two, as well.”  He winked at the two porters.  “And a bar tab, that I will take care of personally.”

            	The two stallions couldn’t help themselves, they let out a little cheer.  Lofty grinned at them, then motioned for Topaz to follow him towards the inn.

            	“Come, my lady.  Let us see if this inn has suitable accommodations worthy of your grace and beauty.”

            	Topaz giggled.  “Did you just call me high maintenance?” she said under her breath, sounding amused.

            	“Not at all.”  Lofty didn’t miss a beat.  “Only that you deserve the absolute best.”  He stepped forward and opened the front door, a rustic stained wood door with a charmingly rounded top.  He gestured for her to go first, and she curtsied with a smirk.

            	“You think you’re very clever and suave, don’t you?” she said as she pecked him on the cheek as she passed.

            	“Am I not?”  Lofty laughed, and stepped in after Topaz.

            	The inn’s reception room was just as quaint as the exterior had hinted.  There were potted plants in hangers everywhere, and the front counter was covered with a fringed ivory tablecloth.  A middle-aged stallion with a long, bushy black moustache over salmon-colored fur smiled as they entered.

            	“Welcome to the Roadside Retreat.”  He gave them both a short bow.  “I am Restful Sleep, and my wife and I operate this little slice of traveler’s paradise.  How can I help you two?”  His eyes were sharp and observant.

            	“Yes, indeed.” Lofty affected a noble sort of air to his voice.  “I am Lofty Tale, and this is Ambassador Topaz Glitter.  We were on our way to my family’s mountain cabin when our porters informed us that the road ahead is too unsafe to travel at this time.  It seems we’ll be patronizing your establishment for at least one night while we make alternative plans.”

            	“That’s too bad to hear.” Restful’s eyes flicked between them as Lofty announced their names.  “I’m sorry you had to cancel your plans because of weather.”

            	“It may turn out to be a blessing in disguise,” Lofty told the stallion, taking in the room.  “Your inn appears to be utterly charming, and my mare here is quite taken with it.”  Topaz rolled her eyes at him at the possessive pronoun.  “I don’t think our time here will be wasted in the slightest.”

            	“Then the Saints have truly guided you here, sir.” The innkeeper smiled.

            	“I require your best room for myself and the lady.  My porters, good stallions both, require room and board as well.  They are both probably exhausted and thirsty.  The kind of thirst that can only be quenched by suds.”  The innkeeper laughed despite himself. “If you have anything to drink, I promised the pair of them I’d see to whatever bar tab they manage to acquire.”

            	“That’s very generous of you, master Tale,” the innkeeper said.  “And would you and the ambassador like something to eat or drink as well?  We have a fully stocked kitchen, and can cook to your requests.  Our cook is quite talented, though it may be… simpler fare than you’re used to.”

            	“I’m sure it will be splendid,” Lofty said.  “But the ambassador and I would like to rest up from our long trip, so if you could show us to our room, that would be lovely.”

            	“Um, master Tale, please don’t think I am presumptuous, but our finest room…” Restful actually blushed, his pink cheeks turning pinker.  “It’s the honeymoon suite, sir.”

            	“I’m sure it will be fine,” Topaz said, amusement, and just a hint of hunger, dancing in her beautiful eyes.  Lofty nearly broke his façade of noble grace with a laugh, though he just barely kept his composure.

            	“Well, uh—” Restful glanced at the two, his blush deepened for a moment, before he blinked and regained himself.  “Right this way, then.”

            	They headed up a wooden staircase to another door, this one decorated with a pair of hearts overlapping each other.  Topaz nudged Lofty with a hoof, giving him a suggestive look which the innkeeper pretended to not see.  He took a key out of his pocket and twisted the door open, swinging it wide so the two ponies could enter.

            	“Somepony will bring your luggage up soon.  Dinner will be in a few hours, but if you need anything, there is a bell pull to the right of the door.  The suite comes fully stocked with toiletries and fresh towels.  Please, let me know if we can be of any more assistance.”

            	“We will.  Thank you, Restful Sleep,” Lofty said politely, and with another small bow, the innkeeper left.  Topaz closed the door behind him.

            	“I gotta say, the whole ‘gracious noble stallion’ bit is really working for me,” she laughed as the two of them explored the suite.  It was humble but comfy, with a king-sized bed covered in hoof-stitched down pillows.  The bathroom was generously large, containing a porcelain bowl with brass feet, large enough for two ponies.  “I mean, being clever and mysterious is super sexy, but being generous and polite without coming off as condescending?”  She made a low hum.  “I’d pounce you right now if I didn’t know somepony would be by in a few minutes with our luggage.”

            	“If you’re impressed now,” Lofty smirked, “the best is still yet to come.”

            	“I’m pretty sure the best will be when I finally pounce you, actually.” Topaz slid up beside him, her rump bumping into him.  Her tail was swishing side to side, flagging just a bit with each pass.

            	“To be fair, I’m having a bit of a hard time behaving myself as well,” Lofty lamented.  “Too bad we have a bit more business before we can finally truly enjoy ourselves.”

            	“Oh?” Topaz asked, but there was a knock on the door.  She opened it to reveal a middle aged earth pony mare with matte yellow fur and a burnt orange mane in a tight bun.  Their luggage was stacked on the floor next to the door.

            	“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, her voice cheerful and matronly.  “I’ve got your things.”

            	“Oh, but that’s not…” Topaz pointed at an unfamiliar crate, and Lofty quickly held out a hoof to hush her.  The older mare gave them both a look.

            	“Thank you so much, Ms…” Lofty trailed off as he stepped into the hallway to help, beginning with the odd crate.

            	“You can call me Quiet Sleep.  Me and my husband Restful own the place, you met him earlier,” she said as she helped move the rest of the luggage into the room.

            	“What is…” Topaz began again, but Lofty glanced warningly at the open door.  Quiet Sleep closed the door behind her, and breathed a small sigh.

            	“It’s all there?” Lofty whispered.  Quiet nodded.  He pried open the lid of the crate, and Topaz couldn’t help but lean over, curiously.

            	Inside, gently packed away, was a rune gauntlet, complete with three full batteries.  He glanced at them with surprise.

            	“Three?  I only arranged for one!”  Three was an unexpected bounty, a literal fortune of magical motes.

            	“New orders from the Big Guy,” Quiet Sleep said.  “You and the young miss here are important to the boss.  Nopony said why, but we’re supposed to help you as much as we can.”

            	“The boss?” Lofty frowned.

            	“Sir Heartwing, grand master of the Discordant and all that.” Quiet waved a hoof dramatically, with an amused smile on her face.  She glanced at Lofty.  “From everything I’ve heard, maybe I’ll be calling you ‘brother’ soon.”

            	“Brother?” Lofty was confused.  “What do you mean by…” He trailed off as the other horseshoe dropped.  Quiet Sleep, the sweet looking, motherly mare standing in front of him, was one of the Knights Discordant.

            	He expected to feel more… something. More frightened, maybe, or more shocked.  Maybe even sick.  But instead he felt simply a mild surprise.  It was just like he’d told Topaz; he didn’t feel guilty for losing his faith, but he felt guilty for not feeling guilty.

            	“Are you really?” he whispered.  Quiet Sleep gave him a gentle smile, her matronly demeanor totally at odds with the horror stories he’d heard his entire life of the Knights Discordant.  She nodded with a proud smile.

            	“Since I was fifteen years old, young stallion.  And before you ask, yes it is safe to speak openly in this room.  All the other preparations are in place, as well.  The potions for you two are in the crate, underneath the gauntlet.”

            	“Potions?” Topaz asked.

            	“Disguise potions.  Crafted by a very clever zebra spymaster,” Quiet Sleep said.  “You drink them, and hold an image in your mind of a pony you want to look like.  Meanwhile, two other ponies drink them while holding an image of you, and continue on the path tomorrow morning towards your family’s manor.  If you are being tailed, your Mystic pursuit will follow your decoys, while the two of you are off doing whatever you need to do in Old Canterlot.”

            	“You arranged all of this?” Topaz didn’t hide her admiration as she looked at Lofty.  He laughed, and resisted the urge to puff out his chest a bit.

            	“From what I hear, Lofty Tale is quite the asset to our cause.  Not nearly as lukewarm as your predecessor,” Quiet Sleep commented.  Lofty didn’t know if he should feel proud at a compliment from a heretic, but he knew he had to start getting used to the idea.  After all, he was one now too.

            	It was something he had to keep reminding himself of, over and over again.

            	“So, you won’t need to come back here to give back the gauntlet, but I’d appreciate it if you did,” Quiet Sleep admonished him.  “These things don’t grow on trees, young stallion.”

            	“I shall do my best,” Lofty promised.

            	“That’ll be good enough,” Quiet Sleep grinned at him, then winked.  “Now you two be sure to get enough rest.  You’ve a long way to go in the morning to get to the train tracks.”  The twinkle in her eyes, and her smirk, let Lofty know that the mare knew exactly what was probably coming next.

            	If Lofty’s current streak of good luck continued, that was.

            	The door closed with a gentle click of the latch, and Lofty glanced at Topaz.  His heart leapt with excitement at the almost predatory gaze in her eyes.

            	“Generous, clever, sexy, and kind.  And now all alone, stuck in a honeymoon suite, with me.” Her grin grew with every point she listed.  “The problem is, I don’t know what your whole plan is, so I don’t know what we have time for next.”

            	“We leave to do some skiing tomorrow morning,” he said vaguely, grinning as he replaced the crate’s lid.  Just because the innkeeper had said the room was safe didn’t mean he wanted the gauntlet, or the potions, out in the open.  “So we have plenty of time tonight.”

            	“Skiing?” Topaz asked, one eyebrow arched.

            	“Cross-country skiing, yes,” Lofty replied.  “If you’ve never tried it before, you should be prepared for some very strenuous physical activity.”

            	“Strenuous physical activity?” Her voice was low and husky.  “I like the sound of that.”

            	“Don’t be so sure,” Lofty teased.  “It’s a very hard sport.”

            	“’Very hard’ you say?” she giggled. Inwardly he cringed; that one was low hanging fruit.

            	“Yes, lots of taxing, repetitive movement,” he continued, causing Topaz to laugh.  “Why, it’s not unusual for all parties to end up panting and sweaty at the end.”

            	“But satisfied, I hope,” Topaz added.

            	“My dear, I can swear to you on all that is holy, if you engage in this activity with me, you will be deeply satisfied.  Perhaps many times over.”

            	“I see.”  Topaz was flushed, her eyes half lidded as her tail swayed back and forth.  She didn’t walk over to him, she stalked, like a feline chasing its prey.  Soon they were nearly nose to nose.  She leaned up, her lips trailing against his cheek as they tickled back towards his ear, which she nibbled gently.  “Why don’t you come show me, if you’re so confident about my satisfaction?”  Her words were the merest puff of air dancing in his ear.

            	Then she broke away, prancing backwards with easy grace.  A single, fluid motion was all it took to slip out of her dress, and then she was on top of the bed, over the covers, spreading out as she beckoned to him.  Lofty gulped.  He had seen mares unclad before, many times.  Even Topaz, in his dreams.  But this was different.  It was magical. He chased after her onto the bed, shedding his own clothing with urgent haste.


*   *   *   *   *


            	A beam of cold sunshine, brightened by a sparkling fresh layer of snow outside, peeked through the inn’s window to awake the young lovers.  Lofty woke first, glancing over at the glittering crystal pony next to him.  Sometime during their activities, she’d burst into light, her entire form becoming crystalline and translucent.  He’d nearly stopped in shock, but Topaz had demanded his continued participation, promising an explanation in the morning.

            	Now, as he looked over Topaz, still smiling slightly in her sleep, her mane splayed out in disarray on the pillows about them, he remembered what she’d said weeks ago, in the dream, about the crystal transformation happening as a result of pleasant or happy emotions.  It made him feel a bit smug.

            	Suddenly Topaz blinked, squinting to the light as she looked up at him.  A wide, satisfied grin split her face, even as she tried to squirm back under the covers.

            	“Oh wow.  I am the best kind of sore right now,” she moaned happily from under the sheet she’d managed to hide beneath.  “You’re not getting up yet, are you?”

            	“I’m afraid we have to,” Lofty said reluctantly, running a hoof along her barrel, hidden by the sheets.  “Sorry, Topaz.  We have places to be.”

            	The reminder got her attention, and she snuck her head out, grinning excitedly at him.

            	“We really are sneaking into Old Canterlot?  Where Starlight might be?”  She nearly leapt to her hooves, standing on the bed while she stretched each part of her body.  Lofty watched appreciatively, practically leering, while she eyed him with amusement.  “Ooh!  I hope we have time for a bath.  Maybe a shower, at least.”

            	“Most definitely a bath,” Lofty eyed the large tub in the bathroom.  “Perhaps a joint one?”  He raised his eyebrows enticingly.

            	“How much time do we have?” she asked in mock-scandalized tones.

            	He glanced at the bedside clock, and gave a disappointed sigh.  “Not enough for too much fun, but I’d happily massage your sore muscles.”

            	“You have convinced me,” Topaz said regally, then cackled with delight as she leapt off the bed towards the bathroom.

            	The bath was regrettably not nearly as long as Lofty wanted it to be, and both ponies were flushed and disappointed when they had to dry off and dress for their journey.  They put on warm winter clothing, but with layers, as Lofty instructed.

            	“I wasn’t joking about the hot and sweaty part,” he explained.  “Cross country skiing is really demanding, so after a while we’ll probably be wanting to remove some layers.”

            	“I still want to remove some,” she muttered, and he laughed.

            	“C’mon.  Let’s go get a hearty breakfast.”  He led the way downstairs to the kitchen, where the innkeeper and his wife were cooking.

            	“Come on in, young master, young lady,” Quiet invited.  She stood over a huge pot, stirring something thick that smelled of cinnamon.  “I’ve just the thing for your long trip.  Come on in, we have a small kitchen table here.”  She gestured to the table, where two seats waited for them.

            	“How are my porters doing?” Lofty asked. 

            	“Sleeping off a righteous hangover, I’d bet,” Restful Sleep said.  “They took you at your word, sir.”

            	“I’m glad,” Lofty smiled fondly.  “Let them sleep in.  We’ll be long gone before they wake up.”

            	Lofty and Topaz sat down at the table, and Quiet placed a steaming bowl of fragrant oatmeal in front of both of them.  “Hang on, I’ve got some fruit chopped up.  You’ll want lots of energy for your trip today.  Either of you want coffee?”

            	“Tea, if you have any,” Lofty said.

            	“I’ll take some coffee,” Topaz said.

            	“Cream or sugar, dear?” Quiet asked as she spooned a healthy helping of chopped peaches and strawberries into each bowl.

            	“Both.  Plenty, please.”

            	“You want whipped cream and sprinkles to go with that?” Quiet teased, and Topaz blushed, but grinned.

            	“Sure, if you have them,” she said.  Lofty thought she might have been joking, but when Quiet pulled out a small canister of sprinkles Topaz didn’t correct her, even clopping her hooves in delight when Quiet topped her whipped cream with sprinkles.

            	The two innkeepers let Lofty and Topaz eat in peace, but there was a question Lofty was curious about.  He watched Quiet while the mare went about her kitchen tasks, doing a dozen mundane, completely normal chores like a completely normal pony.  Finally he had the courage to voice his curiosity.

            	“Hey, Ms. Quiet?” he began, selecting his words with great care.  “Remember what you said yesterday, about me reminding you of your brother?”  It took a few seconds for Quiet to piece together what Lofty was referring to.

            	“Yes, what about it?” she said briskly.

            	“You seem to admire your brother very much,” he continued.  “If I wanted to emulate him more closely, what would that take?”

            	Quiet Sleep appeared thoughtful, but her eyes were bright with excitement.  “Self-improvement is always an admirable goal.  In some cases, all it takes is a simple declaration of intent.”

            	“That’s all?” Lofty was incredulous.

            	“Well, that’s the first bit,” she said vaguely.  “There’s more, but not much.”

            	“Will you help me?”  Lofty said.  “I’d like to… belong.  Again.”

            	Once he said the words out loud, he realized how true they were.  He’d only been a Knight for a matter of months, but already he was feeling the void, the missing piece of who he was meant to be.  He remembered the camaraderie he had felt with the Vigilant during his brief time there, and he missed it.  He’d made relationships and friendships that had evaporated after his discommendation. 

            	“I can do that,” Quiet Sleep said with a firm nod.  “We’ll talk more before you leave.”

            	They finished their breakfast quickly after that.  Lofty, already excited, felt an even stronger sense of purpose.  After breakfast, they went upstairs, followed by Quiet Sleep.

            	“Did you mean it?” she asked without preamble when the door closed behind the three ponies.

            	“I think so,” Lofty said.  “I want to be a Knight again.  Except for the right side, this time.  Is that okay?”

            	“You don’t sound so sure,” Quiet teased lightly, her tone belying the seriousness of the conversation.

            	“I don’t know if I know what I’m getting into, for sure,” he admitted.  “I’m not even sure I have a choice.”

            	“You do,” Quiet said.  “You always have a choice.  We would love to count you as an ally, even if we can’t count you in our numbers.”

            	There was a confidence in her voice.  A complete openness, even a surety.  It bolstered Lofty.

            	“Okay.  I want in, then.  What do I have to do?”

            	“That’s it, actually.  For now, at least.  Sir Heartwing insists on meeting each new recruit eventually.  He’s the boss, the grand master, the Big Guy, whatever you want to call him. He’s a unicorn, so I hope that doesn’t bug you.  Something more than that, if the rumors are true.  But he has this way of looking you in the eye and knowing your heart.”

            	“Why do they call him Heartwing if he’s a unicorn?” Lofty asked, curious.  “It has to be a pseudonym, right?”

            	“I don’t know for sure,” Quiet hedged.  “But there are rumors and legends.  One says it’s to honor his lost love, Saint Fluttershy herself.”  Lofty gaped at her incredulously, but Topaz was silent, with nothing but a speculative expression on her face.

            	“Really?  That’s impossible,” Lofty scoffed, though inwardly he doubted.  The line between possible and impossible was rather blurred these days.

            	“You’ll have a chance to ask him yourself when you meet him, Sir Lofty,” she said, emphasizing the title.  He felt a glow of pride, and Topaz nuzzled his cheek.  “Sorry I don’t have any spare armor with Fluttershy’s mark on it.  Not that you’d want it where you’re going.”

            	“Thank you, Lady Quiet,” Lofty replied formally, though he was grinning.  She reached out and hugged him.  It was a very different feel than the arcane and disquieting initiation he’d had into the Vigilant.

            	“Welcome to the Discordant, Knight.  You’re on the right side now.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	“So the ski’s designed to push forward, but not really slip backwards?” Topaz asked, her voice quivering with nervousness as she wobbled on her skis.  She didn’t look like herself; the potion had transformed the both of them to look like the pair of earth ponies that were now taking their place.  Topaz was still a mare, with long blonde hair and creamy orange fur.  Lofty was now a black-coated stallion with a blue mane.

            	“That’s exactly right.  Remember your forehooves are for steering and balance, not pushing.  Your skis on the hindhooves do all the work.”

            	“O-okay.  I can even go uphill like this?”

            	“It’s harder, but yes.”

            	Topaz turned out to be an apt pupil, and in no time at all they were powering their way across the countryside.  Lofty did his best to be aware of his companion, especially since she wasn’t enhanced the way he was. They took frequent breaks.

            	On the way, Lofty used his new gauntlet to cast a pathfinding spell every few miles.  The area was heavily wooded, and they could easily get lost if he took a wrong turn.

            	“So we’re not going to ski all the way up the mountain, are we?” Topaz was panting after the first few miles.

            	“Goodness, no,” Lofty called back behind him.  “We’re heading to a lonely spot on the train tracks between the new Canterlot and the old one.  There’s a train full of supplies going up later this afternoon, and we’re going to jump it.”

            	“We’re going to jump onto a moving train.”  Her voice was dead even, and she’d stopped in her tracks.  He looked back at her, his grin just a little crazy.

            	“Yeah.  Sounds like fun, right?”  He laughed at the way her eyebrows climbed.

            	“Is it hard?” she asked, nervously.  “I’ve never jumped onto a train before.”

            	“Neither have I,” Lofty admitted.  “I’ve read about it, though.”

            	“You’ve…” she trailed to a stunned, silent halt.  She’d frozen in her tracks entirely.  “You’ve never… You read….” She shook her head violently.  “Are you insane?”

            	“Possibly.  I think we’ll be just fine, though.”

            	“Oh?”  She laughed hysterically.  “Lofty, confidence is sexy, but not if it gets us in mortal danger.”

            	“We’ll have some time before the train passes.  I’ll go over the procedure with you, and I have spells that will help.  I believe this is something we both can easily manage, so I’m going to have to ask you to trust me.”

            	“Okay…” she said hesitantly.  He grinned and continued through the snow-dusted woods.

            	“Besides, jumping back off the moving train will be harder anyways.”

            	“Lofty!”

            	He laughed at her reproachful tone, pushing forward on his skis.  She followed behind, grumbling in annoyance. Soon, despite the cold temperatures, they were stripping off their outer layers of clothing due to heat.

            	“I thought you were kidding when you said we’d be taking off layers,” Topaz said wryly as she stuffed her outer coat into her pack.

            	“Not at all,” Lofty smiled.  “This really is—” he cut off, interrupted by the loud screech of a bird of prey.  “Huh.  Must be a hawk we disturbed.  Probably not used to seeing many ponies this high in the forest.”  He called out to the unseen bird.  “Sorry, mister Hawk.  We’ll be moving on soon.”

            	“Wait,” Topaz said, holding up a hoof.  Her ears perked, and she listened to the sounds of the forest.  As soon as everything was still, Lofty was suddenly aware of the sounds of silence; the heavy, laden sort of silence that only a snow-blanketed forest can hold.  Suddenly the forest sounds were ripped apart by another cry from the hawk, and Topaz’ eyes shot sharply towards the forest.

            	“If I’m not mistaken,” she said softly, “we’re being followed.  And not by an enemy.  That sounds like a red-tailed hawk.  Last I checked they didn’t live this far south.  If I’m right, somecreature’s trying to find out if he can trust you.”

            	“What?” Lofty wasn’t following.  Topaz grinned.

            	“Just keep going.  He’s shy, but he’ll come introduce himself soon.  I’m just surprised.  I didn’t think he came south with the rest of the embassy.”  She turned to the forest, in the direction of the hawk’s cry.  “It’s okay, Escher!  I trust Lofty.”  With a nod, she turned back to him.  “Okay.  Let’s go.”

            	“Escher?” Lofty asked.  Topaz shook her head, motioning to the trail.  With a shrug, he continued.  He trusted her, after all.  He continued on, glancing back behind his shoulder to ensure Topaz was following.  It didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep a close eye on the surrounding forest, though.

            	“Escher’s a good friend from up north.  We were neighbors growing up.  He’s pretty much my brother.”

            	“You’re brother is a hawk?” Lofty asked.  Topaz laughed, shaking her head.

            	“No, he’s not.  Um…” she hesitated.  “I’d rather not say too much.  Some secrets don’t belong to me.”

            	There was a sudden rustling sound of feathers cutting through the air.  A bolt of brown and red shot through the sky, slowing down just as Lofty jumped and spun, ready to protect Topaz.  She was smiling, though, as a beautiful hawk with boldly piercing eyes rested on her backpack.  His eyes were far too intelligent for a simple bird, and Lofty got the distinct impression that he was being weighed and measured.

            	“Lofty, meet my best friend Escher.  Escher, this is Lofty Tale, my coltfriend.”  They hadn’t exactly used the word yet, but when she said it his heart leapt for joy.  “How long have you been following us?” she continued suspiciously.  “Because if you were watching last night, you should know that was totally inappropriate.  A definite ‘socks or necktie on the doorknob’ moment.”  She glanced at Lofty.  “Sorry.  Inside joke.  Back in the Empire, Escher and I are roommates.  The sock on the door is how we signal to each other that we have…” she managed to smirk even as her cheeks colored, “…uh, pleasurable company.”

            	The hawk screeched, but Lofty could have sworn there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.  Suddenly the raptor spread his wings, flapping just enough to fly over and land on Lofty’s backpack.  Lofty glanced over his shoulder, and the hawk stared back.  It was a test of some sort, he thought.

            	“He’s the best, Escher.  Kind and brave, and funny.  I think you’ll like him.”  The hawk’s gaze shot back at Topaz, then returned to Lofty, before slipping back at the trail ahead.

            	“I guess I pass for now?” Lofty said, and the hawk screeched in what seemed like agreement.  “Good.  I’m glad I live up to the standards of a bird.”  This time the screech was angry.  “Yes, I get it.  You’re not really a bird.  I’m going to start moving again, so keep your balance, okay?”

            	They continued on their way again, though this time Lofty felt less paranoid about what might be following them.  He was very curious about the creature that now sat on his backpack, though.

            	“So, Escher,” Topaz began.  “I know you weren’t a part of the embassy.  Did the Empress order you to follow me?”  The hawk gave a short, dismissive squawk.  “Not the Empress?  Then the Princess?”  Topaz’ voice was full of surprise.  “Wow.  I know we don’t get along, but it’s nice to know she cares.”

            	“Escher, you work for the Princess of the Crystal ponies?” Lofty asked.  “What sort of work do you do?”  The hawk screeched again.  “Yes, I suppose you can’t answer me with words, can you?  How does Topaz understand you so well, then?”

            	Topaz was laughing.  “He used to be an investigator for the Knights Vigilant, Escher.  He’s pretty sharp.”  The hawk cried softly, and Lofty looked back.  He looked relaxed, perched atop the backpack with closed eyes.  “Okay, just stop me if I go too far.  Escher doesn’t always look like a hawk.  He works for the Princess as one of her elite guards, and he’s very good at his job.  Very loyal.”

            	“I thought the princess was angry at you?  Banished you from court.”  Lofty didn’t look back this time, and his eyes scanned the forest around them.  His muscles were already aching with a pleasant sort of warmth. 

            	“That’s true, but it was temporary.  Just for show, really.”  Topaz sighed.  “I know she loves me, even though we don’t get along.  I’m her granddaughter, after all.”  Escher screeched his agreement.  “So, she sent you to keep me safe?  Thanks, Escher.  It honestly makes me feel better knowing you’re here.”

            	Meanwhile Lofty was compiling everything he’d learned on the mystery of Escher.  He was friends with Topaz, roommates even.  He wasn’t a hawk all the time, and was even an elite royal guard.  Something tickled his memory, from the dark and disturbing ceremony when he joined the Knights Vigilant.

            	“Back before I was expelled from the Vigilant, I learned some of their deepest secrets,” Lofty began casually.  “There’s an ancient story.  More than seven centuries old, really.  After the Siege of Manehatten, the Knights Vigilant were tasked with guarding the heretic Sunset Shimmer and carrying her back to New Canterlot for execution.  Only, something went wrong.”

            	He knew he had both of their attention by the way both Topaz and Escher had gone completely silent. 

            	“There was a switch, only those ancient Vigilants have no idea how it happened.  Sunset Shimmer was in a locked room.  There was no way anypony could get in, and the Vigilant even cast spells to seal the doors.  Spells that were intact.  When they went to get her the next morning, something else was in her place.

            	“It looked like her, but it wasn’t her.  It attacked them, and when it attacked it took the form of a bug-like pony, with chitin instead of fur.  I’ve always thought that was a really interesting story.  Creatures that can take the shape of ponies, or even other creatures. It’s one of the darkest secrets in the Vigilant.  It’s a lesson in constant, well, vigilance.  A warning.  We’re also taught all the details of this creature, to always be aware of shapeshifting spies that can take other forms.”

            	“Um, interesting story,” Topaz said nervously, while Escher was completely silent.

            	“Now that I’ve been cast out, it’s mostly just a curiosity, really.” Lofty said casually.  “But if such creatures did exist, they’d be really useful in the ruined city we’re going to.  In fact, the mere presence of one on our side would make me feel even more confident in our success.”  It was fine if Escher didn’t want to confirm what he’d said.  Their silence did that all on its own. 


*   *   *   *   *


            	The train track cut an iron scar across the green and white landscape.  Lofty found a large tree for the three of them to hunker behind and wait. If all went according to plan, the train would be passing by sometime in the next hour.  Hopefully they would have enough time to hear it coming and prepare themselves.

            	Jumping onto a train was easy, in theory, and mostly involved running fast enough to catch onto a railing or a handle somewhere.  The train between Old and New Canterlot wasn’t as quick as the barreling engines that supplied the dragon and griffon war fronts, but it was still dangerously fast. 

            	“Don’t worry,” Lofty reassured Topaz.  “As soon as we hear the train coming, I’ll cast a spell on you that will increase your speed and your physical strength.”

            	“But what if I don’t make it on?” Topaz worried.  “Or maybe I make it on, but I fall off?  What if…”

            	He cut her off before her panic could get a full head of steam.  “Topaz, please trust me.  This will go just fine.” Her concerns were very real.  But he remembered all the time he spent tutoring Emberglow on combat back in the Ivy Seminary, and he knew that sometimes panic and doubt had a huge effect on how a pony performed.  If she saw that he was completely confident, their chances for success went way up.  “Besides, if the worst comes to pass, then Escher will help you.  Right, Escher?”  The bird flapped his wings and squawked. 

            	“Once we’re on the train, we’ll have to get off before it reaches its destination,” he explained.  They’d gone over this before, but repetition instilled confidence, as well.  “Only the palace walls are closed off and fully guarded.  The Mystics patrol the city itself, but there are no walls, and there simply aren’t enough Mystics to fully secure it.” He knew this from his own foray into the ruins; if he and Emberglow hadn’t been fleeing like panicked foals, they probably would never have been heard by the patrol.

            	“What happens if we run into a patrol?  Or get caught on the train?” Topaz asked.  Lofty pulled the large pack off his back, the one that carried their extra supplies and food.  Wordlessly, he retrieved a belt and sheath from the pack.  Topaz gaped.  “You brought a sword?”

            	Really it was a very long knife, not quite a sword.  He would have preferred a spear, but stealth and surprise would probably matter far more than skill in any violent encounters ahead.

            	“Yes, and I beg the Saints that I don’t have to use it.”  The response was automatic, and he flinched.  Topaz gave him a sympathetic look.  “But if I do, stay back, and I’ll try to finish things as quickly as possible.”  She cringed, her face stricken.  “I’m sorry, Topaz.  I don’t want to kill if I don’t have to.  But if it means the difference between you living or dying, I won’t hesitate to do what I need to to protect you, okay?”

            	“Okay,” she whispered in a very small voice, her eyes locked on the knife.  He strapped it around his barrel, where he’d be able to draw it in a hurry. 

            	“If we’re careful, it won’t matter,” he reassured her, though inwardly he dreaded the moment when she saw death.  There was something light and innocent about Topaz, and he absolutely didn’t want to see it shattered if she had to watch him kill.  “If a fight does happen, keep your eyes open, keep out of the way, and hide.  If…” he gulped, his throat suddenly dry.  “If I die, run.”

            	“You’re not going to die, Lofty,” she scoffed, and suddenly it was her confidence he was leaning on.  She patted his shoulder.  “Don’t you feel it?  There’s a… weight to all of this.  A sense of destiny.  Everything’s going to be okay, because it has to be.”

            	“Says the mare who was just bombarding me with what ifs,” Lofty teased.

            	“I’m just trying to be prepared for everything,” she protested. He reached out and pulled her into a tight hug, pressing their chests tightly together.  He was worried for a moment about being so affectionate in front of her long-time friend, but when he glanced at the hawk, Escher somehow looked pleased.

            	“I know.  Thank you for looking out for both of us.”

            	“You too,” she replied, and the nervousness in her voice told him she was still worried about watching him kill.  He held her for a silent minute, breathing in the scent of her and reveling in the feel of her pressed against him. 

            	“Let’s pack up the skis and get ready for the train,” he broke the silence, reluctantly moving away from Topaz.

            	They packed away their skis, securing them tightly to their packs.  From the packs, Lofty also pulled out a pair of large cloaks with white, green, and brown patterns on them that would serve as camouflage.  Then they sat down to wait, cuddled close together to share warmth in the frigid air.  Lofty slipped one of the cloaks over the both of them, and Topaz nestled into his slightly larger frame.

            	When the train did come, Lofty’s ears perked up first.  He stood, stretching each limb and trying to ignore the whimper of protest from Topaz.

            	“I know it’s a little scary, but keep remembering the payoff, okay?” Lofty said.  “Tonight, when we bunk down in a ruined building in a millennia-old city, you’ll be able to meet the oldest dreamwalker to ever live.”

            	“Yeah, yeah,” Topaz said, her voice shaking.  “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

            	“Okay, so let’s get behind a tree,” Lofty said, as the rumbling of the train rattled the nearby tracks.  “Once the engine is past, we start to gallop.”  He lifted his gauntlet in the air, tracing glowing runes.  Three spells; one to increase Topaz’ speed, a second that would affect her strength.  The third blurred the air around the both of them, making them harder to spot if one of the train workers happened to be looking along the tracks.  The cloaks would help as well.

            	“I’m really glad Quiet Sleep gave us three batteries,” he said, glancing at the gems on the one he had slotted into his gauntlet.  Two of the green gems were already dim, though the third held strong.  “It will be quite helpful to have extra resources.”

            	“Why do you think the Discordant are being so accommodating?” Topaz asked as the train grew closer.

            	“If I had to guess?  You.” Lofty replied.

            	“Me?”

            	“You told Emberglow about the Element of Laughter, right?  She probably passed that on to her superiors.  This ‘Sir Heartwing’ stallion.”

            	“I see.”  Topaz looked uncomfortable at the mention of the name.  Lofty was about to ask, but the engine was almost upon them.  He tensed, ready to spring from their hiding place behind the tree.  “Get ready, Topaz.  We’re aiming for a car somewhere near the back, a box car.  You take the lead, I’ll run behind you in case there is trouble.  Escher, if you could stay close to Topaz in case she needs your help.”

            	“Yes sir,” Topaz saluted with a nervous laugh.  Even the hawk managed a silly salute with his wing.  There was a blast of air as the train shot by them.

            	“Now!” Lofty shouted.  The two sprang into a sprint.  Lofty let Topaz sprint in front of him, bringing up the rear.  The train roared past, a rushing, deadly wall of colorful containers and screeching wheels.  Topaz tried to do as she was instructed, but Lofty could see as she ran that she was shying away from the monster of steel and speed beside them.  “Get ready!” he shouted behind her, as loudly as he could over the deafening sounds.  “Any one of these cars.  Hurry!”

            	“Hurry?!  But…” she nearly argued, but then Lofty watched her steel herself.  With a lunge that probably took more courage than he would ever realize, Topaz dashed over and seized the railing for one of the cars.  Lofty’s heart leapt with terror as he saw her body jerk forward, and he saw rather than heard her yelp of pain as the momentum of the train wrenched her limb.  But a split second later she was fine, safely standing with shaking legs on the steps that led up to the boxcar.

            	Perhaps a bit more smoothly, he jumped up and grabbed his own railing, lurching onto the boxcar two behind her.  With a wince, he rubbed his sore shoulder joint, and silently hoped she remembered the next bit.  Though it may not have seemed it, the next part would be even harder.

            	He climbed up beside the boxcar, to the point where the two cars were hitched together.  He reached up and hefted his head above the moving train, squinting in discomfort at the rush of air hit his face.  To his great pride and relief, Topaz was already on top of her boxcar, hunched down belly flat against the roof while she inched her way towards him and the back of the train.  Escher hovered above, beating his wings to keep up with the rate of the train.

            	He knew she wouldn’t hear or understand a word he said, so Lofty simply grinned encouragingly at her as she slowly approached.  The look of abject terror on her face would have been comical, if there weren’t a good reason for it.

            	Without warning, the train jolted slightly, and Topaz’ lips parted in a scream he couldn’t hear as her hold slipped loose.  She slid down the roof of the train car, careening towards the edge of the roof.  Escher darted towards her, but at the last second she snagged onto a roof slat.  She was still about two pony lengths away from Lofty, so he could clearly see the heaving of her panicked breaths and the wide pounding horror in her eyes.

            	He held her gaze, trying to will as much courage and comfort as he could into his expression, despite his own pounding heart.  He tapped on the roof, motioning to himself with one hoof, and hoping she understood.  Did she need him to come up and help her?  It took a few breaths, but finally she shook her head and carefully crept the rest of the way to where he was.

            	As soon as she was within reach, he seized her hooves and helped pull her to the small platform between cars.  The wind was much quieter here, even though now there was the loud sound of clanking, screeching metal of the wheels on the track and the connection between the two cars.  It was just quiet enough that he could hear Topaz’ short, panted breaths.

            	“I never… wanna do that again,” Topaz gasped, and Lofty laughed with relief.  There was a squawk as Escher landed next to them, hopping over to spread a wing comfortingly over her back as Lofty held her tight.  “I don’t even wanna think about getting off.”

            	“We have at least an hour before we have to worry about that,” Lofty said.  “Relax as much as possible.”  He glanced at the hawk.  “Escher, are you doing okay after all that excitement?”  The hawk glanced at him and nodded.  “Good.  I know it’s going to be tough to rest on a tiny, rattling metal platform, but let’s do our best, okay?  Well done so far.”

            	“You sound like a soldier complimenting his troops,” Topaz laughed.  “Should I be saluting?”

            	“Only if you feel like it,” Lofty said with mock dignity.  She laughed again.  “Besides, I am sort of in charge, it’s my job to compliment my troops on a job well done.”

            	“You want to be in charge?  Hmm, I didn’t get that impression last night,” Topaz teased.  Lofty laughed, a deep, satisfying belly laugh, as Escher screeched with indignation.  “What?  I’m going to flirt with my brand new stallionfriend, and if you have objections, that’s your problem.  Consider it revenge for that time you forgot to lock the door when you brought that yak, whats-her-name, home drunk.”

            	The hawk somehow managed to look embarrassed, dipping his head. Lofty, on the other hand, heard the implication.  A hawk, after all, didn’t quite have the anatomy necessary to seduce drunk yaks.  He kept his curiosity to himself, though.


*   *   *   *   *


            	Over the next hour, Topaz’ good humor evaporated in a rising tide of anxiety.  Both Lofty and Escher kept giving each other nervous glances.

            	“How much longer?” she asked for at least the fiftieth time.  Lofty held her close, but she was still twitching and fidgeting on the small platform.

            	“About five minutes now,” Lofty said.  Topaz nodded shakily.  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

            	“I can’t do it,” she whispered, her voice breaking with terror.  “When we jump off I’m gonna fall and trip and I’m gonna break my leg or something and then we’ll get caught and they’ll lock us away and they’ll execute you and it’ll all be my fault…”

            	“Topaz!  Please, relax,” Lofty forced a light laughter into his voice.  “You’re overthinking all of this.  You’re going to do just fine.”

            	“I’m not!” She was growing more hysterical, trembling with fear.  “I don’t know if I can do this, Lofty!  I really don’t!”

            	“Topaz,” Lofty began carefully, as if he were talking to a frightened foal.  “If we don’t jump off the train, they’ll definitely catch us.  I need you to calm down so you can do this, okay?”

            	“Calm down,” Topaz laughed hysterically.  She was hyperventilating.  “Okay.  I’ll work on that.  Calm down.”  He could practically hear her heart rate increasing.  “I’m calming down.  Can you tell?”

            	Lofty and Escher shared another concerned look, and the hawk nodded.  A burst of green fire surrounded the hawk, and before Lofty’s eyes he was replaced by a brown furred pegasus with a red mane.  Even though he’d suspected that Escher was a shapeshifter of some sort, it still made him jump.

            	“Don’t worry,” the pegasus said.  “I’ll get you down, okay?”  He glanced at Lofty with a smirk.  “I can’t hold two, though.  You’ll have to jump yourself.”

            	“I think I can manage,” Lofty said shakily.

            	“Escher, you didn’t have to…” Topaz murmured, but Escher shook his head.

            	“Don’t worry about it.  We’ll talk about it later.”  His eyes shifted to Lofty.  “It’s not like he didn’t figure it out anyways.”

            	“Thank you,” Topaz said.  Lofty still had his hooves around her, but she reached out to squeeze Escher’s hoof.  Lofty felt uncharacteristically jealous; he’d been trying to keep her calm for nearly an hour, but it took her friend only a second.  He shouldn’t have been surprised, as they’d known each other much longer.  But still, it stung a little.

            	“Close your eyes, Glitterbug,” Escher said comfortingly, and Lofty flinched at the endearment.  Topaz nodded and closed her eyes.  “I’ll fly her off, Lofty.  You sure you can get down safely?”

            	“I’m sure.  Keep her safe, please,” he said graciously, even though it pricked him that he couldn’t do so himself.  Escher gently lifted Topaz, who was still shaking, and with a hard leap cleared the train and disappeared.

            	Lofty stepped up to the edge quickly.  He’d read about jumping from a train years ago, in a silly foal’s tale.  He hoped the tips he remembered were accurate; he didn’t focus on the ground beneath him, instead fixing his gaze away from the mountain, out towards the spread of the city beneath them.

            	With a leap of faith, he jumped from the train, wheeling his hooves in the air so he was running when he hit the ground.  Snow splashed up into the air and he grunted with the pain of impact.  He kept his hooves for a few dozen steps before tumbling and rolling in the blessedly soft snow.  The train rumbled past, shooting up the mountain without him.

            	Escher and Topaz caught up a few minutes later.  He was flushed with the effort of flight, and Topaz looked embarrassed.

            	“I’m sorry,” she whispered.  “I don’t know what came over me.  It was just, suddenly in my head I could see all the possible things that could go wrong, and the ground was just moving so quickly.”

            	“You don’t need to apologize,” Lofty pulled her into a hug, and Topaz clung to him.  Escher gave them both a patient smile and a few moments before chiming in.

            	“We should get moving.  I don’t think anypony was looking, but I don’t want to test the idea,” he said.

            	Lofty nodded.  “Good idea.  Um, is it okay?  For you to keep that form?”  He led the way, staying close to the harder ground near the tracks.  The other two followed.

            	“It’s not like I need to hide anything from you,” Escher allowed.  “Topaz trusts you, so I trust you.”

            	“Thank you,” he said sincerely.  “For that, and for your help.”

            	Escher shrugged.  “I was here anyways.  Besides, it seems to be my mission in life to keep Topaz out of the worst of her trouble.  It’s just blind luck that I’ve never had to arrest her yet.”

            	“Hey!” Topaz protested. 

            	“Nope.  You introduced me to your stallionfriend, so I get to have my revenge for years of teasing.  I have a decade worth of embarrassing stories.” Lofty glanced back; Escher’s expression was predatory.  “If your mother were still around, she’d say it was my solemn duty.”

            	“Your mother has passed?” Lofty asked gently.  He still didn’t know nearly as much about Topaz’ family as he would have liked.

            	“Yup, when I was about eleven,” Topaz nodded.  “That’s why me and Escher got to be so close.  Our moms both passed early, and our dads just kinda became best friends, so we did too.  We did everything together, except when somecreature decided to join the royal guard.”

            	“You could have too,” Escher protested, and Topaz gave a snort of amusement.  “Why not?  It would have done you good.”

            	“Sure.  Up until the court martial,” Topaz joked.  Escher nodded and smiled.  Once again Lofty felt the mournful sting of jealousy for what they shared.

            	“So, Escher,” Lofty tried not to think that he was awkwardly changing the subject.  “I couldn’t help but notice you were a hawk a few minutes ago, and now you’re not.  Care to comment?”

            	Escher laughed.  “That’s quite the way to ask what I am.  I’m a changeling, Lofty.  This isn’t even my real body.  I don’t know anything about the story you told earlier, about Sunset Shimmer, but that sounds like one of ours.”

            	“Why is there no reference to you in our literature?” Lofty was incredulous.  “Outside of the secrets of the Vigilant, that is.”

            	“We erased ourselves,” Escher said.  “We’re taught that when the Diarchy faith came into the open, moving from a secret cult to an actual movement to take over the government of Equestria, changeling infiltrators slipped in and began removing every reference to our kind in printed literature.  By then, we’d mostly all moved up north anyways, so few ponies knew much about us.  It wasn’t perfect, and it took decades of hard work, but we just… disappeared.”

            	“That’s… unbelievable,” Lofty breathed.

            	“Yeah, well, obviously we didn’t get everything,” Escher snorted.  “The Mystics still have a few odd accounts that we know of, and apparently there’s the bit that you lot know.  But we’re practically phantoms down south.  It makes spying quite a bit easier.”

            	“You have changeling spies in the Diarchy?” Lofty asked.

            	“Ever since the shield went up, yeah,” Escher said.  “My great uncle was one, actually.”

            	“So you just… take pony form and pretend to be one of us?” Lofty asked.  The idea was oddly unsettling.  With a sudden cold chill, he wondered how many changeling spies he’d actually met.

            	“You don’t have to worry too much about us,” Escher replied, as if reading Lofty’s thoughts.  “There’s not very many of us down here at a given time.  Really, the odds of you even having met one of us is beyond low.”

            	“But I still wouldn’t know, right?” Lofty said with a shiver.  “I could have gone my whole life not knowing that one of my friends or neighbors or even casual acquaintances could have been an imposter.”

            	“Again, the odds are ridiculously low,” Escher said dismissively.  “I don’t know the real numbers, but we can’t have had more than two or three in New Canterlot City.”

            	Lofty was going to comment on more, but as they followed the train tracks that looped around the conical mountain above them, the ruined buildings of the old city were slowly coming into view.  Lofty remembered the cracking and broken spires from the last time he was here.  Before, they’d brought a sense of wonder and imagination.  He felt the same now, though there was also anger.

            	That came as a surprise.  He’d never felt anger like this before.  His loss of faith had simply been something he’d accepted.  Now he felt a bubbling fury, an anger at being lied to and betrayed.

            	It was more than that, though.  Here was an entire city before him, beautiful and grand, with a storied and glorious past, and it was locked away, hidden from the ponies below.  Lofty hurt for the aging beauty of Old Canterlot, pushed aside and kept out of sight.

            	“It’s gorgeous,” Topaz breathed behind him, and Lofty found himself agreeing completely.  Gorgeous, yes. But also neglected and abused.

            	“Come, let’s move quickly,” he said, banishing the thoughts.  Anger was a distraction, now.  “We need to find a spot in the ruins to hide until nightfall.”

            	“You think you’ll be able to find your way to where you were before?” Topaz asked.  “To where you met Starlight Glimmer?”

            	“No,” Lofty admitted.  “It was dark, and I wasn’t exactly watching for landmarks.  I think we’ll be led to her.  We just need a place to sleep, first.”

            	“Sleep?” Escher asked, confused.

            	“I don’t think I can find my way, but I’m pretty sure Topaz can get in touch with somepony who can guide us,” he smirked, and Topaz clopped her hooves together in glee.


*   *   *   *   *


            	In the end, Escher turned out to be a blessing of the Saints, though Lofty had to cringe when he thought of it that way.  He scouted ahead of the ponies in the form of a mountain eagle, this time a creature that was actually indigenous to the region.  Lofty and Topaz kept under their camouflage cloaks, staying as silent as possible as they crept between the broken buildings and the rubble filled streets.

            	They eventually spotted Escher roosting comfortably on top of a small building.  The second floor was destroyed, but the first was intact, with the floor above as a roof.  There was no door in the entrance.  Lofty stepped carefully inside, and was pleased to find a staircase down into a basement.

            	“I wonder what it was like,” he whispered as he and Topaz tiptoed down the stone staircase into an ancient cellar.  It used to house wine; the barrels were long rotted away, but Lofty recognized the rusted metal rings that used to hold the barrels together.  “Living here, back then.  I wonder whose house this was.”

            	“Imagine if they’d left some wine in the cellar,” Topaz laughed.  “It’d be quite nicely aged by now.”

            	Lofty snorted.  “Or dust. It’s been eleven centuries. Let’s set up our bedrolls.  I’m sure you’re rather sleepy, and I think I could use a rest, too.”

            	Escher flew down the stairs then, and there was a flash of green fire.  Instead of a pony, though, he had taken the form of a raccoon.

            	“You’re planning on being lookout?” Topaz guessed.  Escher nodded.  “But when are you going to sleep?”

            	“Somepony will need to stay awake,” Lofty noted, giving a grateful nod to Escher.  “Thank you, friend.”  He tried not to laugh at the sight of a saluting raccoon.  “You’ll be okay for a while, though?”  Escher gave him a wry look.

            	“He’s a guard back home.  He’s used to standing watch,” Topaz said.  Lofty watched, bemused, as he saw for the first time ever a raccoon stick out his tongue at a pony and blow a loud raspberry.  “Don’t worry, Lofty.  We can rest easy.  Escher will wake us if something goes wrong.  Let’s go meet the Princess of the Night.”
> Chapter 36
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 36



Introduction of the Book of Remembrance



Here lie the names of creatures whose lives were cut short by the evil and hate that have poisoned our land.  No memorial will ever make up for their loss, but we will remember forever that they lived.



We begin with the heaviest loss of all:



Princess Twilight Sparkle


1113 AF, Angel’s Rest

            	“This is all unnecessary, embarrassing, and undignified!” Bubblegum protested.

            	“We could always postpone until you’re better,” Emberglow suggested.  “You don’t have to go for an outing this morning.”

            	“But…” Bubblegum whined.  “I’m bored!  I’m going stir crazy, and I’m pretty sure I’ll stop getting better if my morale’s low.”

            	Emberglow snorted at Bubblegum’s blatant hyperbole.  “If you want to go out, you’re going in a wheelchair.  I’m not going to negotiate, Bubblegum.  And Doctor Plasma isn’t either.  You want me to go get her?”

            	“No.” Bubblegum’s voice was tiny.  Emberglow smirked; Bubblegum was intimidated by the doctor, and that certainly made it easier to get her to follow instructions.

            	“Well, then stop whining and let me help you into the chair,” Emberglow suggested.  Bubblegum sighed and nodded.

            	The hospital room was almost like her second home now.  She’d spent so much time visiting Bubblegum that it had become familiar.  She was pleased to see one change, though; Bubblegum’s IV stand was gone.  She’d had it removed earlier this morning.

            	“I know I’m not the world’s best patient,” Bubblegum mumbled.  “I’m sorry if I come off as ungrateful.  I really do appreciate this.”

            	“You’re forgiven if you sit up so we can start moving you over,” Emberglow pointed to the chair.

            	“Yes, ma’am,” Bubblegum saluted.  It took a great deal of effort, but Bubblegum didn’t complain or whine about that.  Emberglow saw the strain in her face as Bubblegum grunted and pushed herself so she was sitting up. 

            	“This sucks,” she noted.  “The PT is gonna be the worst.”

            	“Barely a challenge for a mare like you, right?” Emberglow helped her turn in the bed, so she was facing the wheelchair.

            	“Oh yeah, motivational encouragement.  You’re sounding just like my physical therapist,” Bubblegum scoffed.  “You’re right, though.”

            	“Med school included a basic overview of PT techniques, including motivational tools,” Emberglow replied.  She sat on the bed, slipping a hoof around Bubblegum’s shoulders, while her second wrapped around Bubblegum’s front.  “I haven’t had much chance to use it, but it’s there.  Ready to move?”

            	“Yeah.  I got this,” Bubblegum said confidently.

            	“Remember, slow, steady movement,” Emberglow warned as she felt Bubblegum’s muscles tense.  Bubblegum nodded impatiently, and the two of them moved.  Bubblegum gave a sudden gasp of pain, and Emberglow stopped.  “Are you okay?”

            	“Yeah, just sore muscles,” Bubblegum grunted.

            	“No pain in your sutures?”

            	“No, they’re fine.  It was my legs, I swear,” Bubblegum protested.  Emberglow raised her eyebrows, and Bubblegum chuckled nervously.  “I learned my lesson, and I listen to doctors one hundred percent now.”

            	“Good,” Emberglow nodded, and with as much grace as she could manage, helped Bubblegum the rest of the way into the wheelchair.  “Do you need a blanket or something?”

            	“Do I really look that decrepit?” Bubblegum snorted.  “C’mon, Emberglow.  I’m not some grandma pony who needs the wheelchair and a blanket.”

            	“But you’ll tell me if you’re too cold, right?” she insisted.  “Because I’m not really your doctor, but I am a doctor.”

            	“Yeah, yeah,” Bubblegum waved a hoof impatiently.  “I’ll tell you, I promise.  Can we go yet?”

            	“Sure,” Emberglow laughed, and pushed her out of the room and into the waiting room.  They waved to the old stallion receptionist and ventured out into the city.

            	It was her first day out and about in her new robes.  They were still white, just like before, only with a double yellow band at the sleeves that announced her new allegiance.

            	It had inspired a number of looks on her way to the hospital, looks that took her by surprise.  She remembered with distaste the growing fear and separation she’d felt from other ponies before Manehatten.  There was none of that in Angel’s Rest.

            	Instead, ponies who saw Emberglow in her new white robes lit up with excitement, waving their hooves at her enthusiastically.

            	“You noticed that you’re a celebrity now, Lady Emberglow?” Bubblegum teased, as a gaggle of foals up ahead stopped to point and wave.  It was some sort of club or field trip; each small pony wore a uniform of sorts, a gold and red lined cloak with a shield symbol on each.  They were accompanied by an adult, a single unicorn stallion who wore a cape like theirs.  “C’mon, let’s go over and meet your fans.”

            	“But…” Emberglow hesitated, and Bubblegum snorted.

            	“Push my chair over there before I have to do it myself, okay?” she demanded, and with a sigh, Emberglow pushed the chair over to the foals.  Bubblegum was already grinning and waving back.

            	“Hey guys!” Bubblegum cheered as they got closer.  “What’s happening?”

            	“Cutie Mark Crusader Field Trip!” the group of foals chorused, in a way that made Emberglow want to cringe from the noise.  The adult leader flinched, though he had a fond grin on his muzzle.

            	“We’re going to the mushroom farm!” one chimed in.

            	“We’re gonna learn about turning poop into food!” a colt giggled, earning himself a disapproving glance from the adult.

            	“Not poop, Laser Sights.  Compost,” he corrected.  “We don’t use pony waste for food composting.  It would be unsanitary.”

            	“Smells like poop,” the colt muttered, and Emberglow couldn’t help but laugh at the disappointed look on his face.

            	“Sorry, we’ve been very rude, haven’t we, fillies and colts,” the unicorn said.  “A new Knight has joined the Discordant.  May we have your name, Lady Knight?”

            	“Um, I’m E-emberglow,” she was suddenly nervous to be put on the spot.

            	“It’s so wonderful to see new faces in the Knights,” he said.  “Welcome to Angel’s Rest, Lady Emberglow.  I’m Stormchaser, and these are…”

            	“The Cutie Mark Crusaders, Troop Seven!” the foals all chorused loudly together, shouting over whatever their leader was going to say.

            	“And what do we say to a brand new Knight, Troop Seven?”

            	“Thank you for your service!” they all chorused again.  Emberglow found herself blushing.

            	“What are the Cutie Mark Crusaders?” Emberglow asked.

            	“It’s a club for foals,” Stormchaser explained.  “Heartwing instituted it as a way for foals to work on dozens of different life skills and fun things while trying to discover what their special talent is.”

            	“I see!” Emberglow smiled down at all the foals.  “And you’re on a field trip?”

            	“Yeah!” one of the small fillies chimed in.  “We’re learning about mushrooms!”

            	“Yeah!” another chimed in.  “And maybe one of us will get our cutie mark?”

            	“Can you imagine a cutie mark that looks like a mushroom?” a prissy looking filly chimed in with a look of disgust on her face.

            	“Could be cool,” said the colt who’d mentioned poop.  Emberglow was beaming at their contagious excitement.

            	“Sounds fun,” Bubblegum said.  “I hope one of you gets lucky.”

            	“Um, were you hurt, Lady Bubblegum?” a shy colt asked, nervously edging forward enough to touch Bubblegum’s hospital gown.  Bubblegum nodded.

            	“Yup.  I was pregnant, remember?” Bubblegum said.  “Well, I was going to have the foal, but something went wrong, and I needed to go to the hospital.  Lady Emberglow here saved my foal’s life.”

            	Suddenly the field trip was temporarily forgotten, and every foal crowded around Emberglow.  A cacophony of questions flooded from the excited children.

            	“Really?”

            	“Didjya use magic?”

            	“The foal’s okay, right?  Where is he?”

            	“Why’s Lady Bubblegum still hurt?”

            	“Lady Emberglow, are you gonna help Lady Bubblegum kill bad ponies?”

            	At the last, Emberglow froze, her blood going cold.  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.  What was she supposed to say to that?

            	“Nah, Lady Emberglow doesn’t kill ponies,” Bubblegum said matter-of-factly, and her voice was so confident that Emberglow could have hugged her.  “Nopony really likes to fight the bad ponies, but we hafta sometimes.  Lady Emberglow’s job is to patch us up when we get hurt in the process.  See?”  She gently lifted the side of her gown, to show the bandaged wounds on her barrel.  The foals crowded around and made appropriately impressed noises, and Emberglow was far too amused to correct Bubblegum, even though they technically weren’t battle wounds.  Finally Stormchaser cleared his throat.

            	“Fillies and colts, please  give the Knights some space.  You’re crowding Lady Emberglow.  I’m sure they have someplace to be.”

            	“We have a little time,” Bubblegum said.  “We were just going to write some names in the Book.”

            	All the foals went silent with reverent awe.  Stormchaser nodded solemnly.  “We won’t keep you, then.  Come on, Troop Seven.  Let’s leave the Knights alone.  They have an important duty.”

            	“But can you please bring them by the hospital this afternoon, if you have time?”  Bubblegum pleaded.  “I’d love some visits, if they can behave themselves during the field trip.”  The last was said coyly, towards the foals, who all suddenly stood up a little straighter.

            	“We’ll be good, Lady Bubblegum!” one of them chimed in, the rest nodding with affirming noises.  Bubblegum smiled.

            	“And you’ll all be listening to Troopmaster Stormchaser?” she urged.

            	“Yes, ma’am!” they all called out in unison.  Emberglow hid a giggle behind her hoof.

            	“I’m sure,” Bubblegum said with a sage nod.  “So if you’re good, and your Troopmaster says it’s okay, you can come visit me in the hospital later and I’ll tell you a story about how Lady Emberglow and I fought some pirates together once.”

            	“Pirates!?  Really?”

            	“Were there cannons?”

            	“Were you on a ship?”

            	“What about buried treasure?  Did you find any treasure?”

            	The barrage of foal excitement was interrupted by a shrill whistle, and adults and foals alike flinched slightly at Stormchaser’s signal.

            	“That’s enough questions for now, Crusaders.  Let’s hurry off, and we’ll see if we can fit in a visit to the hospital later.”

            	He led them away, and Emberglow watched the gaggle of bouncing foals depart with a bemused expression on her face.  After they turned a corner she shook her head and smiled down at Bubblegum.

            	“You’re good with foals.  Popular with foals, too.  Who would have thought?” she mused as she began pushing the chair again.

            	Bubblegum snorted.  “Do you really have to sound so surprised?”

            	“I guess not.  I just never got the chance to see you around foals.”  Emberglow sighed wistfully.  “I want one now.”

Bubblegum giggled.“Foals are amazing.  I’ve already gotten in trouble with both my husbands for saying I want a little sibling for Emberspark.”

            	“You did just have a very close brush with death as a result of your first one.” Emberglow frowned.  Bubblegum shrugged.  “That reminds me.  Before, during your delivery, somepony mentioned a procedure that might have contributed to Emberspark’s complications?”

            	“Oh, that,” Bubblegum nodded.  “Well, you know there’s all sorts of rune spells, right?  But the Diarchy are only worried about the ones useful for war.  Here in Angel’s Rest, the Discordant have developed all sorts of spells good for all sorts of everyday things.”

            	“That makes sense,” Emberglow said thoughtfully.  “There’s no law against the common pony using rune spells here, is there?”

            	“Yeah, but batteries are rare, so we tend to conserve them unless absolutely necessary.  Anyways, there’s a lot of spells that have to do with fertility and foaling.”  She paused, her head cocked to the side.  “Hang on, I’m telling it out of order.  So Heartwing, he says Equestria’s all messed up and out of balance, right?  There’s no Harmony.  There should be a balance between unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies.  But right now there’s one pegasus for every ten earth ponies, and only one unicorn for every hundred earth ponies.  It’s out of whack, and something’s gotta be done to fix it.”  She turned, wincing a bit in discomfort at the motion, and looked Emberglow in the eyes.  “That’s what the trip you’re leaving on later today is about, right?  Something about restoring Harmony.”

            	“Yes.” Emberglow nodded.

            	“This is just another way.  If a mare’s pregnant, you can cast a spell on her that increases the chances that she’ll have a unicorn. By messing with the odds like that, we increase the number of unicorns.  At the cost of a slightly increased chance of pregnancy complications,” Bubblegum finished the last a bit ruefully.

            	“And you knew this before you went through with it?” Emberglow asked incredulously.

            	Bubblegum nodded.  “Yeah.  The doctors said the odds were still really low.  We talked it over, the three of us.  By then I was already pregnant anyways.”

            	Emberglow did the math in her head.  “So you were pregnant when I fought you,” she said softly.

            	“Yeah, but don’t you dare let that bug you,” Bubblegum laughed.  “I didn’t know yet either.  I was even a little bit preggers when we were on the ship.  The way I figure, it was the ‘goodbye sex’ I had with Windy right before we left.”

            	“Ugh.  I don’t need to know when you actually conceived, Bubblegum,” Emberglow groaned.

            	“Oh?” Bubblegum said coyly.  “Still a bit prudish, are you?”

            	“I’m working on it,” she admitted.  They rolled down the street in silence for a few moments.

            	“I could help you with that,” Bubblegum offered.  There was a hint of sly teasing in her voice.

            	“I don’t need your help with that!” Emberglow scowled, trying to ignore Bubblegum’s snickers.  Even if they were friends now (and Emberglow, despite her expectations, certainly considered Bubblegum a friend now) she wanted to keep this part of her life far away from Bubblegum as she could.  The mare liked to tease far too much.

            	“I could give you advice!” Bubblegum protested.  “You know, ideas for positions, possible kinks, that sort of thing. I could be your wingpony, and help you find attractive mares!”

            	“I can still take you back to the hospital,” Emberglow growled, and Bubblegum laughed, but subsided.

            	“All teasing aside, Emberglow,” Bubblegum said when she’d stopped giggling.  “I’m happy to offer advice or answer any questions.  And I promise to do my very best to tease you as little as possible.”

            	“Noted,” Emberglow stated simply with a roll of her eyes.


*   *   *   *   *


            	Regardless of how uncomfortable conversations with Bubblegum sometimes got, the teasing did help to ease some of Emberglow’s worries by the time they got to Prism’s cathedral.  The confessor was there already, dressed in official looking robes.  He smiled to greet them as they entered.  There was a large book, a gigantic tome, wider than a pony was long, sitting closed on a portable plinth that had been set up between the statues of the Saints.

            	“Welcome, Emberglow.  Welcome, Bubblegum.  I’m glad to hear you’re recovering,” Prism said.  “Please, have a seat.  We’re waiting for two more.”

            	“Two more?” Emberglow said warily.

            	“Heartwing said he’d like to be here,” Prism said, and Emberglow nodded.  “And…” He paused, glancing with concern at her.  “Night Eye wants to be here too.”

            	Emberglow’s blood went icy, her limbs frozen in place.  Suddenly, something seized one of her forehooves, and she looked down to see Bubblegum grabbing onto her from her wheelchair, a stern look on her face.

            	“Don’t run, Emberglow,” Bubblegum said softly.  “Besides, you’re strong enough to do this.”

            	“W-why?” Emberglow stammered.  “Why is he coming?”

            	“For you, Miss Emberglow,” Prism said gently.  “He wanted to wait to put Night Star’s name in the book until you could be there, too.  For closure.”

            	The door to the cathedral suddenly opened wide, and Emberglow jumped, expecting the worst.  But it was only Heartwing, bursting into the cathedral with a dramatic flourish.

            	“I’m here, I’m here!” he called out, his voice slightly out of breath.  “Nopony started without me, did they?”

            	“Emberglow and Bubblegum only just arrived,” Prism said softly.  He leveled a disapproving look at Heartwing.  “And you don’t need to yell.”

            	“Sorry,” Heartwing smirked, looking not at all sorry.  “Just trying to emulate the Saints.  Every one of them believed firmly in dramatic entrances.” He looked up at the statue of Saint Pinkamena and gave her a comic salute.  “Makes me wish I had a party cannon.”

            	“Party cannon?” Emberglow was confused.

            	“Remind me to tell you about the real Pinkie Pie someday,” Heartwing said with a fond grin up at the statue.  “She was a gem.”

            	“O-okay,” Emberglow said nervously.  “So…”

            	The door opened once again. She turned to look, and Night Eye was standing there.

Emberglow thought her heart would stop.    Her limbs shook, and her throat constricted, but Bubblegum’s hoof wrapped around her own forehoof, squeezing her tightly.

            	Night Eye walked up the rows of pews slowly, his eyes on Emberglow’s the entire time.  She tried desperately to calm her heart, calm her breathing, but the stallion’s eyes were just so much like his son’s.  In her head, she was still seeing his last mad charge, his face twisted in rage.  She felt her own cold fury, and the feeling of Gadget going still and limp in her hooves.

            	“You’re Lady Emberglow, aren’t you?” his voice was gentle, a deep rumbling bass.  She nodded soundlessly.  “I’m sorry to surprise you like this.  I…” he trailed off silently, looking at the floor.  “You’re hurting because of all this.  I know.  I just wanted you to know I forgive you.”

            	Then he was hugging her, his hooves wrapped around her.  Desperately she clutched him back, shaking as sobs of grief and pain tore through her throat. 

            	“I didn’t know,” she whispered.

            	“I know,” he patted her back, then pushed her out to a hoof’s length.  “Come here.”  Gently, he prodded her over to the book.

            	The cover was nondescript, bearing only the symbol of a crystalline tree.  Night Eye took her hoof, guiding it to the cover.  It was soft and warm to the touch, and she nearly jerked her hoof back instinctively.  

            	When the tree on the cover began to glow gently, she did move her hoof back.  A soft light filled the crystalline tree, from bottom to top, sliding up until the branches were glowing.  The cover flipped open, moving of its own accord to the first page of the huge book.

            	Emberglow’s eyes were drawn to the graceful script, and she read it out loud.

            	“Here lie the names of creatures whose lives were cut short by the evil and hate that have poisoned our land,” she read.  Her words echoed in the silent reverence that filled the cathedral. “No memorial will ever make up for their loss, but we will remember forever that they lived.  We begin with the heaviest loss of all: Princess Twilight Sparkle.” 

            	Emberglow glanced back at Heartwing.  His eyes were closed, but in the solemn look on his face she saw the weight of what she was reading.  She glanced back at the book, and the pages were moving again.  As the paper flowed past, Emberglow saw that they were filled with hundreds of names, all in different hoofwriting.

            	Finally the book stopped moving, resting on a page where the names ended, leaving a blank, open paper.  Confessor Prism stepped up beside them, carrying an inkwell and a single quill.

            	“Thank you,” Night Eye said.  He took the quill and leaned over the book, scribbling onto the paper with a stoic look on his face.  Emberglow watched, entranced.  She noticed a few discolored spots on the paper, realizing with a stunned sort of sadness that they were dried teardrops.

            	Once Night Eye was done, he guided her into his spot with a hoof.  Emberglow felt suddenly overwhelmed and out of place.  She didn’t belong here, in this holy place that was the opposite of her entire life’s work.

            	“But…” It was all she got out.  He pushed the quill into her hoof.

            	“Please do your friends this honor, Emberglow.”

            	Her hoof refused to move. “They were on the wrong side.”

            	“Every death is a tragedy,” Prism said.  “It doesn’t matter what side they were on, we mourn their loss regardless.”  Emberglow nodded shakily, and leaned over the book.  Night Star’s name was at the bottom of the list, in short, awkward letters.  She backed away again.

            	“Is it okay if I talk about them?  While I write them down?” she asked.  Everypony nodded at her, and Bubblegum waved her hooves as if to say ‘go on’.  Emberglow turned back to the book.

            	“Okay, we’ll start with Ice Arrow,” she said out loud, her hoof shaking as she wrote the late sergeant’s name.  “She was afraid of needles.  Terrified.  But she wasn’t the kind of mare to let her fears stop her from doing what needed to be done.  She was that way until she died.”  She pulled the quill back, looking at her hoofwriting.  It was sloppy, because she’d been shaking a bit.  But many of the others were the same, so maybe Sergeant Arrow would be in good company.

            	She wrote Bitterroot’s name next.  “I wish I’d known you for longer.  I could have learned so much from you.

            	Delver Deep.  “You were the right mentor for me.  I couldn’t have served under a better Knight for my first mission.”

            	She was avoiding the last name, and as she stared at the large blank spot on the page, the huge, empty white of tragic potential.  Tears dripped down and marred the void.

            	“Gadget,” she said as she wrote.  “I wish we’d had more time.”  A hundred thoughts, a thousand things to say, trickled through her head then out again.  In the end, that was it.  She turned around, and the other ponies were watching her, looks of mingled pity and sympathy on their faces.  Night Eye patted her on the shoulder.

            	“Thanks for letting me do this,” she whispered.

You think scribbling a few names into a book will make the guilt go away?

            	Perhaps not.  But it helped, at least a little.


*   *   *   *   *


“Heartwing!  Before you go, I have an answer for you!”

Heartwing was walking alongside Emberglow, as she pushed Bubblegum back towards the hospital.  The three ponies looked back to see Night Eye running up.

“Oh?  You don’t have to…”

“I’m sorry.” The older stallion came to a stop in front of them, his eyes darting between all three of them.  “I can’t.  I know what Night Star wanted, but he’s not here any longer.  I have to say no.”

“Okay.”  Heartwing reached out and patted Night Eye’s shoulder.  “We’ll respect your wishes.”

“It’s that easy?”

“Of course.”  Heartwing’s smile was gentle.  “You don’t have to explain yourself.  And I won’t try to convince you.”

“Oh.  Um.  Thank you, Sir Heartwing.”  He hesitated, raising a hoof as if he were about to offer it to Heartwing to shake, or even a hug, but then simply nodded and left.

Emberglow watched him go, with a sense of growing worry.  There was a gravity to the conversation that she didn’t quite understand.  She turned her eye on Heartwing.  “What was that all about?”

“Night Star was an organ donor,” he said vaguely, and he looked away.  Emberglow glanced at Bubblegum, who shook her head.

“Organ donor?  But he died months ago.” Emberglow raised an eyebrow.

“How many world-shattering revelations do you need in a month, Emberglow?”  Heartwing’s mouth was quirked in a sardonic smile, but his eyes were sad.  Emberglow pinned him with a hard look.

“No more secrets.  I’m done.  Whatever it is you were talking about, you can tell me.”  There was a glimmer of a glow from the gem Emberglow wore underneath her robes, and Heartwing nodded.

“There’s two ways to make the serum that creates a Knight, Emberglow.  A circle of unicorns, usually seven or eight, standing around channeling their magic into the potion for weeks, working themselves to exhaustion, can create the effect.  Or…”

“Or you can distill the severed horn of a unicorn who has passed,” Bubblegum finished.  Emberglow felt as if a vice were suddenly crushing her heart.

Heartwing glared at her.  “I was trying to soften the blow.”

“She doesn’t need softening.  It’s Emberglow.  One of the strongest ponies I know.”  Bubblegum patted Emberglow’s hoof.  

Emberglow swallowed hard.  Her brain was galloping a billion miles an hour.  She could still taste the potion; the chalky, gritty texture.  She heard the babbling voices.  How she had felt lost, a billion emotions screaming in her head.

She didn’t know how long she had stood there, reliving old memories, but Bubblegum and Heartwing were waiting patiently.  “Is it true?”

“Emberglow.”  Heartwing’s voice was gentle.  “You had no way of knowing.”

	“Of course not.  Because I was just a dumb, ignorant victim of it all, right?” Suddenly anger surged up, drowning out everything else she was feeling.  “Poor, weak Emberglow.”

“Hey…” Bubblegum started.

“And you Discordant still do this?  Why wasn’t I told?”

“We make most of our potions the hard way,” Heartwing said.  “A unicorn can volunteer their horn after they have passed.  We steal nopony’s horns.”

She searched his face for some sort of deception, some trickery.  There was none.  Emberglow found her hoof subconsciously drifting up towards the Element under her robes.

“Night Star’s horn will be buried, as was his father’s wish.  We won’t use it without permission, Emberglow.”  Heartwing smiled.  “And since it looks like we’ll be travelling companions, you should know my wishes on the subject.  Should I fall in battle, I wish my own horn to be used to create another Knight Discordant.”

Emberglow stared at him silently for a few seconds, before she grasped the handles of Bubblegum’s wheelchair and began pushing again.

“I guess…” she began slowly.  “I guess it doesn’t matter.  What’s done is done.”

That’s going to help you sleep tonight?

	“That’s what I say,” Bubblegum said.  “Still… it keeps me up sometimes.”  Emberglow was stunned at how closely their thoughts aligned.

“My own potion was the same,” Heartwing admitted.  “At least you two had the benefit of ignorance.”  The two mares stared at him, but he shook his head, before a plastic smile slid over his muzzle.   “C’mon.  I’ll walk you both back to the hospital.”

            	“Sure, boss,” Bubblegum said, exchanging a concerned look with Emberglow. “You guys, um,  all ready for your big adventure?”

            	“We leave this afternoon,” he said.  Bubblegum sighed with dejection.  “You okay?”

            	“I wanna go,” she pouted, and Heartwing grinned.  “I mean it!  I’m sick of being on medical leave, boss.  I wanna get out there and do something.”

            	“What about Emberspark?” Emberglow asked pointedly.

            	Bubblegum flinched.  “I know, I know.  I wouldn’t really go.  That doesn’t stop me from wanting.”  She sighed, and turned longing eyes on Emberglow.  “I’m gonna miss you, you know.”

            	Emberglow’s throat tightened at the sudden sentiment she felt.  Her friendship with Bubblegum had been one of the most surprising and delightful things about the last few weeks.  She didn’t want to have to lose that.

            	“I’ll write when I can,” she said, and Bubblegum nodded, her own eyes wet.  “Stop, none of that yet.  We haven’t left, and you’re still going to come see us off, right?”

            	“Yeah, sure,” Bubblegum said.  “You have to say goodbye to Spark once we get to the hospital, though.  I don’t think they’ll let me bring him to the send off.”

            	“How is he doing?” Heartwing asked.

            	“Um, better?” Bubblegum said warily.  “Well, he’s started magic surging.  Doctor Plasma says it’s completely normal, but it’s making us all a bit stressed when he teleports and leaves his oxygen tube behind.”

            	“Unicorn foals can teleport?” Emberglow gaped.  Teleportation was supposed to be a very rare talent in unicorns.  Heartwing stopped, eyeing her with amusement.

            	“That’s right, you haven’t spent much time around unicorn foals,” he said, and she flinched.  That was an opportunity that had been taken from her.  Heartwing seemed to notice her reaction too late, because he cringed as well.  “Ah. Right. Sorry.”

            	“Yeah,” Emberglow whispered.  Bubblegum gave her a confused look.  “I had a brother that was taken.  A unicorn.  Lucky Break.”

            	“Ouch,” Bubblegum said.  “I’m sorry.”

            	“It’s okay,” Emberglow said, but it wasn’t.  She tried not to think about Lucky.  She’d tried to avoid it for years, first since it was commanded to forget your unicorn relatives, and now because she had to mourn him all over again.  With a sickening little twist of her stomach, she wondered which Knight was now empowered by her brother’s stolen horn.  Heartwing slid over and hugged her awkwardly with one hoof, and Bubblegum reached back to pat her hoof with one of her own.

            	“It’s not okay,” Bubblegum whispered, echoing Emberglow’s own thoughts.  “And that’s why we fight.  That’s why you’re going on this adventure, right?  So nopony else has to lose a brother?”

            	“Yes.”  Emberglow wiped at her eyes.  “Spark deserves to grow up in a world where he doesn’t have to hide what he is.”

            	“Hear hear!” Heartwing cheered.  “Let’s go see the rascal.”

            	“It’s a good thing he has two dads,” Emberglow teased, trying to latch on to the lighter mood.  “If he’s anything like Bubblegum, it’ll be impossible for just two parents to keep up with him.”

            	“Ha ha,” Bubblegum said humorlessly.  “So because you don’t know, Emberglow, baby unicorns have magic surges, where they suddenly have access to, but no control over, magic abilities beyond what young ponies should have.  Teleportation, levitation, sometimes other complex spells.”

            	“So he’s teleporting about?” That sounded horrifying.

            	“Not all the time,” Heartwing giggled.  “Just when it’s most appropriate for comedic timing, and most inconvenient for his parents.  I should tell you about the time Pinkie Pie volunteered to babysit for a unicorn infant.  It was a story she was quite proud of.”

            	“Comedic timing?” Bubblegum sounded terrified.  “He’s really doing it at the worst possible times?  On purpose?”

            	“I’m sure it’s completely subconscious,” Heartwing said airily, waving a hoof in the air as he cackled.  “The world is simply full of ambient chaos energy, and a unicorn’s horn is a natural magical channel.  Before they learn any sort of control, it sometimes sort of… slips out.  It used to make ponies burst into song randomly.”  He sighed.  “I miss that bit.”

            	“Burst into song randomly?” Bubblegum asked, curious.

            	“Yeah.  In groups.  Spontaneously.  In harmony with each other, with fully choreographed dance numbers.”  His voice was wistful.

            	“Woah,” Bubblegum whispered.  “For real?  Like, you’re not just making this up to mess with me?”

            	“I swear to Fluttershy,” he said.  “I did it a few times myself.  It was... transcendental.  You simply would let the magic flow into you, and dance.”  He smiled sadly at the two of them.  “That’s what we’re fighting for, too.”

            	“Yes, fight for your right to sing and dance,” Bubblegum laughed.  “I can get behind that.  So boss, when do I get to fight again?”

            	“When the doctor clears you.” His demeanor changed from wistful to stern in an instant.  “Cobalt will be in charge of the Knights while I’m gone, and you’ll listen to him.”

            	“Of course.” Bubblegum waved a hoof, and nopony believed her.

            	Once at the hospital, Bubblegum directed them to the nursery.  They paused just outside the door, glancing at each other with alarm at the crashes and shouts of panic they heard from the other side. Heartwing rushed ahead and yanked the door open with his magic.

            	The nursery was a disaster.  It was lucky that Emberspark was currently the only patient, otherwise any other foals he was sharing a room with would probably be shrieking with fury and terror.  The tiny foal himself was zipping about, upside down on the ceiling with his horn glowing bright white.  He was panting and out of breath, but giggling with glee as he levitated the small oxygen tank he was hooked to behind him.

            	Doctor Plasma was rushing about the room, jumping up and down trying to retrieve the giggling foal.  She was flush with exertion, and her eyes were bright with worry.

            	“Well, at least he’s brought his equipment along with him,” Heartwing said underneath barely suppressed mirth.

            	“That is very much your child, Bubblegum,” Emberglow teased.

            	“Spark, honey?” Bubblegum called out gently.  “Can you come down and see mama?”  The foal squealed with glee and dashed down into his mother’s arm, dropping the levitation spell in the process so that the oxygen tank flopped wildly, smashing against Heartwing in the process.

            	Heartwing cried out in pain, muffling it as quickly as he could at the concerned glance from the little foal.

            	“Heh, it’s nothing, little one,” Heartwing said in a strained voice.  “A little ouch is totally worth the chaos you cause.”

            	Meanwhile, Bubblegum was worriedly adjusting the oxygen tube, making sure it was correctly placed in Emberspark’s nostrils after all his fun.  It was endearing, Emberglow mused, to see Bubblegum acting maternally.  Doctor Plasma rushed over as well, watching with approval.

            	“Thank Celestia you got here,” she panted.  “I hate magic surges.”

            	“Don’t you have unicorns here that can help counter them?” Heartwing asked.

            	“Yes, and they have days off and sometimes call in sick,” Doctor Plasma laughed, almost hysterically.  “I tried to fly after him, but…” She spread her wings and flinched.  Emberglow could see a collection of bent and broken feathers.  Probably where a wildly swinging oxygen tank had struck her wing.

            	“Is this regular?” Emberglow asked nervously.  Doctor Plasma rolled her eyes.

            	“Not when Miss Bubblegum’s here.  He’s a perfect angel for mama.”  She glanced at Heartwing.  “Sir Heartwing, a pleasure. I don’t suppose you could help tidy up?”

            	“If I must,” he gave a teasing eye roll.  “As you know well, I’m much better at causing a mess than cleaning one up.  But if you insist…” he smirked as the scattered and knocked over equipment in the room suddenly lit up in a yellow glow, righting themselves in an impressive display of control and precision.

            	“Thank you,” Plasma said with a relieved sigh, before turning an annoyed look on him.  “You know, I’m fine in theory with the idea of encouraging and promoting more unicorn births, but usually only the parents have to deal with the repercussions of uncontrolled magic surge.”

            	“I’m sorry he’s giving you trouble, Doctor Plasma,” Bubblegum said as she held Spark close, cuddling him even as she gave the doctor a nervous look.

            	Doctor Plasma saw the expression on Bubblegum’s face and immediately reached out to pat her on the shoulder.  “Don’t you worry for a second, Lady Bubblegum.  Little Spark might be a hooffull, but that just comes with the territory of foals.”  She grinned slyly at the young mother.  “It’s only going to get worse, you know.  The magic surges might slow down and go away, but nothing causes more chaos in a pony’s life than foals.”  She glanced up at Heartwing.  “Not even you.”

            	“Very true,” Heartwing smirked.  “Foals: the ultimate agents of chaos.”

            	Bubblegum was looking between the two of them, appearing more and more apprehensive with each word.  Emberglow rolled her eyes.

            	“They’re teasing you,” Emberglow whispered to Bubblegum.  It was an odd sort of role reversal; Bubblegum usually was the one doing the teasing.  “C’mon.  Let’s get you back to your room.  I’m sure Spark is hungry.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	In the end, Emberglow spent as much time cuddling her namesake as she could before she and Heartwing had to beg their leave and go.  There was packing to do.

            	“I want one of those,” she admitted to Heartwing. Emberglow noticed she was saying that quite a bit, recently.

            	“What, a hospital?” Heartwing quipped. Emberglow rolled her eyes and shoved him gently with a hoof.

            	“No, a foal, you clown,” she scoffed.

            	Heartwing smirked.  “You know, there’s spells for that.”

            	“Spells for conception?”

            	“No, spells that allow a co-mingling of genetic materials between two mares.  That allow a mare to impregnate another mare.”

            	Emberglow felt her face heating up.  “I think there are a few preliminary steps I’m going to have to take before I get to that point.”

            	“Yeah, like finding a sexy mare to cuddle,” Heartwing giggled.

            	“I’m taking those sorts of steps slowly,” Emberglow ducked her head slightly.

            	“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to tease you about it!” Heartwing sang, before his smile became somehow sweet.  “Don’t you worry for a second, Emberglow.  Somepony’s gonna snatch you up as soon as they see that blush of yours.  Or maybe you have somepony in mind already?”  His bushy eyebrows waggled, and Emberglow blinked, turning away quickly.

            	“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, and he hooted with laughter. 

            	“Just so you know, when you do decide to make your move, you have my and Terminus’ full support.”  His voice was sly.  “That mare needs somepony to make her happy.”

            	“Again, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Emberglow insisted, and finally Heartwing subsided.

            	As they approached Heartwing’s home, they noticed a stack of luggage just outside.  Heartwing began to giggle even before they heard the sounds of argument coming from inside the house.

            	“What’s happening?” Emberglow asked.

            	“Rarity has a bit of a reputation,” Heartwing smirked as he rubbed the back of his head with one hoof.  “I warned Terminus, but it seems she thought she could get away with more than the one packed saddlebag I allowed.”

            	“She thinks we can bring all this luggage?” Emberglow stared at the pile.  There were at least five suitcases.

            	“No, it’s probably a negotiation tactic,” Heartwing said shrewdly as he looked the pile up and down.  “She tries for something completely ridiculous, like five suitcases, before somehow negotiating us down to only one or two.  Which is probably what she wanted anyways.”

            	“You knew she was going to do this?”

            	“I warned Termie, yeah.  It’s best if you don’t get involved, especially if you have good reason to get in Rarity’s good graces.”  He eyed her with amusement.  “Just be ready to run if she says anything about eyelash curlers.”

            	“Eyelash… curlers?” Emberglow was confused.  Heartwing pushed ahead as he chuckled, pulling the door open into the chaos inside.

            	“…but just because we’ll be travelling a long way doesn’t mean we need to travel without modern necessities,” Rarity’s voice came out of the open door.

            	“One saddlebag, Rarity.”  Terminus’ voice was full of longsuffering.

            	“But surely you realize how important it is to…”

            	“One saddlebag, Rarity,” Terminus repeated with a sigh.  Emberglow heard a stomping hoof, and rushed inside.

            	In the living room, there were two more open suitcases laid out on the couches.  Rarity stood between them, her face flushed with anger.  Terminus watched calmly, while Heartwing took in the whole scene with a bemused look on his face.

            	“Maybe we could come to a compromise?” Heartwing suggested.  “Rarity can bring as many suitcases as she can carry herself.”  Terminus looked about to protest, but Heartwing winked at him.  “Of course, the ship we’ll be taking has no room for storage.  So any suitcases you bring will have to be piled on board whatever bunk you are assigned.  I guess you could sleep on deck, if necessary.”

            	Rarity stared at him, openmouthed in anger, before stomping off to her room with a huff.  Emberglow was torn; part of her wanted to side with Rarity just out of solidarity with her fellow mare, but she knew Heartwing was right.  Finally, with an apologetic glance at Heartwing, she chased after Rarity down the hallway.

            	The door to Rarity’s room was firmly closed, so Emberlgow knocked softly.

            	“Rarity? It’s me.  Can I come in?”

            	“Of course, darling,” Rarity’s voice sounded far too calm for her angry exit earlier.  The door slid open, and a calm and composed Rarity smirked knowingly at Emberglow.  Emberglow cocked her head in confusion.

            	“Aren’t you… upset?”

            	“Oh that little bit of theatre out there?” Rarity scoffed.  “That was just me being dramatic.  Now that I’ve left, Terminus will gently scold Heartwing for being so harsh with me, and he’ll feel just guilty enough to allow me two saddlebags.  And probably carry the second himself.”  She gestured at the disorganized piles of dresses and blouses, skirts and socks, and even three pairs of shoes scattered about the room.  “I couldn’t possibly narrow things down to just one.”

            	Emberglow stared at Rarity, who was smirking just slightly.  “That’s so manipulative,” she said softly.  Rarity beamed with pride, until she saw the look on Emberglow’s face.

            	“But one saddlebag is just insufficient for a world-spanning adventure,” Rarity whined.  Emberglow raised her eyebrows, and Rarity did a nervous little dance with her hooves.  “Emberglow, you have to understand, a lady needs to be prepared for…”

            	“How about this,” Emberglow cut her off.  “I’ll be in charge of our packing.  Unless you don’t think I’m a lady enough.”

            	“B-but, of course I…” Rarity waved a hoof frantically in protest.  “I couldn’t possibly, I mean, yes, I do think you’re lady enough.”  She took a deep breath, and narrowed her eyes at Emberglow with a snort.  “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”

            	“Maybe a little,” Emberglow nodded.  “But I’m happy to be in charge of both of our packing, if you’re struggling to fit everything into one set of saddlebags.”

            	“But…” Rarity whimpered, glancing around the detritus in her room.  “I can’t possibly choose between all these.”

            	“Then allow me to choose.”  Emberglow saw the stubborn set of Rarity’s jaw, and had a sudden burst of inspiration.  “Besides, if we overpack, you won’t have room to shop in whatever exotic markets we find ourselves in abroad.”

            	Rarity’s eyes lit up like sapphires, and Emberglow melted just a little inside.  “Why didn’t you say so, darling?  That’s a marvelous idea!”  Suddenly it didn’t seem so hard for Rarity to choose just enough to pack into a single saddlebag.  With a flash of blue magic, she had the discards organized neatly in the closet while Emberglow watched with impressed silence.

            	“Rarity?  Rarity, I…” Heartwing rushed up the hallway, drawing up short as soon as he saw Rarity’s room, neatly organized with a single set of packed bags.  “I… oh.”

            	“It’s okay, Heartwing,” Emberglow said, sharing a grin with Rarity.  She’d read Heartwing just right, it seemed.  “We’ve sorted things out so she has just one bag.”

            	“On the condition that you let me go shopping in the exotic foreign marketplaces,” Rarity insisted.  Heartwing simply looked relieved.

            	“Of course, Rarity.  You’ll love Jubilation.  And even the Diarchy port we’re smuggling out of has a nice little open air market, as long as it doesn’t rain.”  He shot Emberglow a grateful look.

            	“Um, what port is that?” Emberglow had to ask, suddenly suspicious.

            	“A little smuggler’s port called Port Luminescence,” Heartwing said.  “It’s one of the easiest places to sneak ponies out of the Diarchy by sea.”

            	“I’ve been there,” Emberglow’s stomach churned.  “It was my first assignment.  We hunted pirates out of the port.  Do you think ponies might recognize me?”

            	“How long were you there?” Heartwing asked.

            	“A few weeks.  It was eventful, though.  I was the medical officer at a…” She gulped.  The guilt was stale, but still very real.  “A public execution.  We hung eight pirates that we caught.”

            	Some of her emotional state must have been obvious, for Rarity reached out and hugged her with one hoof.  Emberglow hugged back.

            	“Thanks.  It’s still a difficult memory,” she said.  She turned to Heartwing.  “Will it be a problem?”

            	“Perhaps,” Heartwing admitted.  “We’ll be in disguises, though.  Obviously Rarity and I will have to cover our horns somehow.  But Port Luminescence is a sieve.  It’s the best place to sneak out of the country.”

            	“I never even knew, when I was there,” Emberglow said.

            	“The Diarchy thinks they have a handle on it,” Heartwing said.  “They think they have the governor and bureaucrats there in their pockets, but they have no idea what’s slipping out just under their muzzles.”

            	“Like us,” Rarity whispered.  Emberglow glanced at her, noting the anxiety in her expression.  She squeezed Rarity before patting her gently on the back.

            	“Are you okay?” she asked.

            	“Just a bit nervous, I suppose,” Rarity sighed.  “I feel like I’ve just made this place my home, and now I’m heading off into an adventure longer than any I’ve gone on before.  It’s a bit unsettling.”

            	Emberglow understood all too well.  She’d been here a month, and barely felt like she had any roots at all in Angel’s Rest.  It made her suddenly keenly miss her own parents, and her tiny, cozy little room back home.

            	“Don’t worry, you two,” Heartwing said jauntily.  “I’m sure it will be not much more than a few weeks.  Just a short hop over to Jubilation, and then we’ll be on our way back.”

            	Emberglow didn’t think even Heartwing believed what he was saying.
> Chapter 37
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 37


Letter, sent from Bold Bridle of Canterlot to Princess Flurry Heart, Crystal Empire.  Obtained by the Imperial Library, dated 53 AF

Your Most Radiant Highness,

            	It is with greatest regret that I must deny your recent request.  Though it causes me pain to do so, I have an obligation to my mother I cannot betray.

            	I would like to remind Your Highness that I am not one of your subjects, and therefore have no obligation to follow your commands.  If I have erred, and misinterpreted a polite request as a command, I most humbly apologize.  The object in question will remain in my care, as it was entrusted to me by my mother, Sassy Saddles, who in turn received it from Princess Twilight’s assistant.  You can be assured that my dear mother has provided very specific instructions as to how the object should be hidden, and even where.  It will be safe with me.

            	You are the only pony that knows I am in possession of this object.  If it is found by nefarious hooves, it will not be because of a leak on my end.

            	With warmest regards,

            	Bold Bridle

            	Canterlot

1113 AF, Ruins of Old Canterlot

            	With each passing night, it was growing easier and easier for Lofty to notice when Topaz entered his dreams.  There was a sense of it, like everything around him, from his surroundings to his thoughts, was becoming brighter.  As the sensation grew stronger, tiny, colourful flowers began to bloom around him.  He smirked.  Topaz was going to love that.

            	“Ooh, did I do that?” she laughed, bounding up alongside him as she ran her hooves over the flowers.  “I make the flowers bloom in your dreams!  That’s so cute!”

            	“I knew you’d say that.” He laughed as he leaned over to kiss her cheek.  “Do you need to stop for a dream snack before we go look for the Princess?”

            	“Sure, but,” she whispered, lowering her eyelids with a sultry smile,  “I don’t think I’m hungry for flowers.”

            	“Tease.  We have work to do.” He nudged her with a shoulder.

            	“You are correct, Sir Knight,” Topaz smirked.  “So how do we summon the Princess of Dreams?”

            	“I don’t think she can be summoned.” Lofty looked up from the hill they stood on at the starlit sky.  A giant, curved crescent moon hung low in the dark blue above them.  “I guess we can always just call out.”  He reached a hoof up towards the silvery light.  “Um, Princess Luna?  It’s me, Lofty Tale.  You’ve spoken in my dreams before.”  He wrapped a hoof around his marefriend.  “You also remember Topaz Glitter.”

            	“I remember you crying,” Topaz called out.  “You helped me understand my cutie mark.  You inspired me to go into psychiatry.”

            	They waited as a cool breeze made the grass and flowers dance about them.  It tickled at their ears and tails, and brought with it a slight chill. Lofty used it as an excuse to wrap a hoof around Topaz and pull her closer while they waited.  From her smirk, though, he could tell she could see right through him.

            	“I’m not too sure she’s listening,” he whispered, after they waited in silence for a few moments.  “I had hoped—“

            	“I hear you…” the wind sang to them, a sweet, silvery voice full of pride and joy.  “You came back here.”

            	“We came for Starlight,” Topaz called out, bouncing up and down on her hooves in excitement.  “And to meet you!  I have so much to ask you!  I’ve been learning dreamwalking, from books and from what little Empress Cadence knows.  I was hoping to connect with you, to learn more!”  Lofty could feel her practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

            	“I would be happy to teach you, my little pony.” There was a rustle of feathers, and suddenly there was a pony in front of them.  Taller than Lofty, with an ethereal, sparkling blue mane and piercing cerulean eyes.  Her hooves and chest were decorated with silvery regalia, and a delicate tiara graced her head.  Her smile was motherly, and her wide wings encircled about both of them, pulling them into an embrace.

            	“Princess!” Lofty tried to bow, but the princess laughed, stopping the motion by squeezing both smaller ponies tighter.

            	“You’re finally on the right path,” she said, her voice hitched with emotion.  “You found it on your own.”

“Not on my own.  I had help.”  He thought of Topaz and Emberglow, of Luna herself.  He even reluctantly thought of his grandfather. “What do we do next?”

            	Princess Luna’s wings loosened, and she moved back slightly so she could gently pat his head.  “Straight to the point, I see.”

            	Lofty blushed, rubbing a hoof on the ground.  “After years of being deceived by the Diarchy, I want to get started on doing something good.”  It sounded oddly silly, but Princess Luna looked proud.

            	“Your whole life has been spent doing good things.  Both of you.  I’m so pleased.  The task before us is huge, maybe impossible, but I’m so happy to have ponies like you to try and bring Equestria back to where it needs to be.”  She sat up further, drawing herself up regally, like a queen.  Or a princess, Lofty corrected with a smile.

            	“Lofty Tale.  Topaz Glitter.  I task you with a most important quest.  First, I need you to delve into these ruins and locate Starlight Glimmer.  She has given up so much, and has suffered for so long.  It’s time for that to come to an end, and for her to know rest.”

            	“Of course.  That’s one of the reasons we came here anyways.”  Topaz was practically vibrating with eagerness.

            	The princess cleared her throat and smiled indulgently.  “Your second task will be to reunite with the other Elements of Harmony.  Your friend Emberglow has found the Element of Honesty, and Topaz here has the Element of Laughter.  You must help Emberglow and Rarity, and their friends, find the others.”

            	“The last I heard, they were heading to Zebrica,” Topaz said.  

            	“Then you must join them there. The world needs the Elements together for the coming storm.”

            	There was something cryptic in her tone.  Lofty’s instincts told him she knew more than she was saying.  But how did you challenge a goddess of dreams?

            	“Um…” he began nervously, and her eyes shifted to his.  He suddenly felt the weight of her gaze, the heavy burden of thousands of years of history and wisdom behind those blue eyes.  He gulped.  “There’s uh, something you’re not saying.”

            	“And why do you say that, young one?” Princess Luna squinted slightly, and Lofty suddenly felt smaller than the smallest flea.  He blinked a few times, forcing himself to keep her gaze.

            	“You seem to know what’s going to happen before it happens.  You knew I would be back, didn’t you?” He tried not to sound accusatory.  “Couldn’t you just…” he floundered, unsure how to word his question.

            	“Couldn’t I just tell you your fortunes?” Princess Luna smiled sadly.  “I don’t know everything, Lofty Tale.  And just like I couldn’t tell you the truth of your faith, I can’t tell you even some of the things I do now know.  You have to have the freedom to choose your own path.

            	“I can tell you this, though.  Both of you have destinies written in eternity.  Your choices, your lives, will shape this land for generations.”  Her face twisted wryly.  “I know that’s painfully cryptic.  Most prophecies are.  I don’t know much more than that.  I can’t actually see exactly what the future holds for you.

            	“Now, pay attention.” She waved a hoof, and the scenery changed.  Lofty almost yelped in fear; suddenly, they were thousands of feet above the ground, floating over Old Canterlot.  The sharp descent of the mountain cut away below them at a frighteningly steep drop. He glanced sheepishly over at the two mares, who both eyed him with amusement.

“Below us is the city.”  Princess Luna pointed at a building, and it was suddenly illuminated in a shaft of silver moonlight.  “This is where you are resting.” A second beam descended, shining on another building.  “You have been here before, Lofty.  You know what you will find.”

“Is she still there?” Lofty breathed.  Princess Luna nodded.

“She still suffers.” Princess Luna said.  “She’s driven by guilt she no longer even remembers.  She blamed herself for the disappearance of one pony, and for the death of another.  Tell me, Lofty, do you remember your initiation into Knighthood?”

“Of course.” Lofty blinked in confusion.  What did that have to do with anything?

“Remember the story you were told.  The secret of Saint Applejack’s Knights.  Starlight may not remember, but she bears the burden of guilt for that death as well. You and I, however, know that Sunset Shimmer didn’t die that day.”

She pointed down at the second building, the one Lofty remembered.

“If you are to fully resolve Starlight Glimmer’s guilt, you shall have to find what happened to Sunset Shimmer.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	Lofty woke up long before Topaz did, having left before her dreamwalking lessons with Luna.  He didn’t mind; Topaz had been so eager to learn from the Princess of Dreams herself.

            	He blinked a few times as he woke up in the ruined basement.  He looked around to find a raccoon peering at him.

            	“You can rest now, if you like,” he whispered, glancing down at the still form of Topaz curled up next to him.  “Take my blankets.  I’ll keep watch.” Escher nodded and padded over.  Lofty moved out of the way, and Escher curled up in the spot Lofty had just vacated.  He was gratified to note that Escher didn’t cuddle up to Topaz.  “I don’t think it’ll be long, though.  Topaz will probably want to move before it gets light.”

            	Escher shrugged, and closed his eyes. Lofty walked over to the stairs, glancing up at the night sky through the narrow opening in the floor above them. The moon shone down on his face, as if bathing him in its attention.  Or perhaps he was simply imagining things.

            	Standing there in the narrow sliver of light, he felt energized.  Hopeful.  He knew a difficult night lay ahead of them, but it didn’t seem to matter, with the weight of their task pushing him on with an almost inevitable sense of momentum..

            	He felt more alive than he had in months.

            	Lofty didn’t know how long he stood there, but eventually Topaz stirred.

            	“Huhwha?” she said articulately, and he chuckled.  She blinked and looked over.  “Oh, hey.  Escher get some rest?”

            	“What do you think?” Lofty smiled, pointing at the curled up raccoon.  Escher was snoring very gently.

            	“Aw,” Topaz cooed, and giggled. “It’s almost a shame to have to wake him.”

            	“Yes, but I’d rather get going long before the sun comes up.”

            	“Yeah, I know.”  She nudged at Escher gently with one hoof.  “Hey, buddy.  Alarm clock time.”

            	Lofty was impressed with the way Escher’s eyes immediately shot open, and he popped to his paws, glancing about alertly.  It was clear the Crystal Empire didn’t skimp on training its guards.

            	The two ponies gathered up the blankets while Escher was consumed in a flash of green fire, reappearing in the form of a dark feathered owl.  Lofty nodded in approval, then they set off into the ruined city.

            	The night was clear and cold, and a light dusting of snow sat over the rubble and cobblestones.  Topaz glanced at the smooth blanket of snow in concern. “How—” 

“I’ve got it.” Lofty smiled, quickly casting a spell over the two ponies. “Leave No Trace spell,” he whispered, and Topaz placed her hoof down on the snow, lifting it wonderingly to reveal no hoofprint left behind.  “We have three hours before I have to cast it again.  Hopefully we’ll find the right building before then.”

            	“You remember where it was?” Topaz glanced up and down the empty street.

            	“It’s a little different when you’re not a mile in the air,” he muttered.  “But I think so.  C’mon.  Escher, if you’d please scout for us again.”

            	The owl sped off into the dark, and the two ponies followed after.  Lofty kept to the shadows along one side of the street; the moon may have been comforting, but its light was far too revealing for his tastes.  They walked for a few minutes before a flutter of wings right in front of Lofty brought them to a complete halt.  In the dark night, Lofty could barely make out Escher’s warning gaze, and his pointing talon.

            	“Hide,” he breathed, pulling Topaz behind the broken wall of a caved-in building.  They shrank down, Lofty curled over Topaz.  He felt her body underneath, oddly steady and calm despite the situation.

            	A second later, a pair of lights came around the corner, casting their shadows over the wall the pair hid behind.  They were almost completely silent, whispering so quietly Lofty couldn’t make out what they were saying until they were right on top of the pair.

            	“You think it came from around here?” one voice, a mare, asked.

            	“Yeah,” the other was a stallion.  “I thought I…”

            	“Who!” Escher cried out so loudly that Topaz jumped a bit.  He was perched right on top of the wall.  Lofty even heard the stallion give a startled yelp.

            	“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered, while his partner giggled silently.  “An owl?  I was sure we were gonna snag some silly squires tonight.”

            	“They can’t all be exciting patrols,” the mare shot back, still laughing.  “Sorry to disturb you, mister owl.  Good hunting, okay?  We’ll leave you alone.”

            	Lofty watched, heart pounding, as the lights receded down the street.  He started to rise, but Escher held a wing out towards him, then launched into the air.

            	A few moments later, Escher landed, hooting softly.  Lofty took that as the ‘all clear’ and stood.  He silently nodded his thanks to Escher, then pulled Topaz to her hooves as well.

            	After their brush with the patrol, they moved much more carefully.  Escher had them hide a few more times, but the patrols always moved past, without spotting them.  Lofty found himself deeply grateful for the changeling’s presence; he was making this entire excursion quite a bit easier.

            	Finally, they found the building he remembered from a few years ago.  It was just as it had been that night.  He remembered the way the shadows had played with the ponnequins scattered about the ruined shop, as if there had been ponies standing about inside.  He shivered, remembering the chill voice of the ghostly figure who had approached them.

            	“This is it,” he whispered.  The two of them headed up the stairs.  “She was just inside here.  A figure in a black cloak, hidden by…”

            	“You don’t belong here!” a harsh whisper rasped out of the shadowy corner, and Lofty jumped despite himself.  “This isn’t your place! This is her place!”

            	“Hello,” Lofty said carefully, glancing at Topaz.  She didn’t look frightened.  She looked excited.  His own heart pounded in his ears.  “Do you remember me?”

            	“I…” The figure cloaked in black stepped out of the shadows, around one of the fallen ponnekins. “No.  I don’t remember anything.”

            	“You said that, last time I visited,” he said gently.  Now that he knew a bit about this pony, he found himself much less scared.  “I’m sorry I ran, back then.  When I saw what you are.  You didn’t deserve that.”

            	“Who are you?” the figure asked.

            	“My name is Lofty Tale.  This is my marefriend, Topaz Glitter.” He motioned to Escher, who had just landed on a larger brick.  “This is Escher, a friend.  Topaz wanted to meet you.”

            	“Meet me?” the figure shrunk away slightly.

            	“Y-yeah,” Topaz said nervously, when Lofty motioned her forward.  “My grandmother asked me to find you. Are you Starlight Glimmer?”

            	“Starlight Glimmer?” she asked dumbly.

            	“Yes, that’s what Empress Cadence called you.  That was your name, right?”

            	“Starlight…” The hooded figure cocked its head to the side, as if contemplating.  Topaz walked closer, slowly, like one would approach a scared animal.

            	“Cadence wants to help you, Starlight.  We do, as well.  We… brought news.”

            	“I…” the figure began, then shook her head.  It dislodged the hooded cloak she wore, baring the bare bone and the smooth stump where her horn had been removed.  Lofty remembered sprinting in terror last time he’d seen this.  Now he just felt pity. “I don’t know you.”

            	“No, you don’t,” Topaz admitted.  “But I’m here to help.  I’m here to tell you that Rarity has been found.  She’s safe, Starlight.”

            	The phantom was quiet, frozen in place.  The empty sockets of her skull stared at them silently.  Lofty approached alongside Topaz, reaching out slowly.

            	“Tell us how we can help, Starlight.  Princess Luna wants us to help you.  Empress Cadence, too.”

            	“Follow me,” the skeletal pony said abruptly, turning without fanfare.  They followed her deeper into the ruined store, into a back room.  Lofty felt a little relieved that the remaining walls blocked off the view from the street.  She stopped in the doorway, turning to glance at them again.  “This isn’t your place.  But maybe you can be here.  Somepony wrote some things down, years ago. I can’t remember why.”

            	The back room was in just as much disarray as the front.  The skeletal pony shuffled through the rubble, clearly looking for something, her bony hoof pushing aside broken stone and dirt.  Finally she stopped.  Lofty and Topaz both leaned forward for a closer look.

            	“This was her place.  Not her home, she didn’t live here.  But it’s full of her anyways.  I thought I could find her here, but all I found was something she’d left behind.  A relic.”  She pointed at what she had uncovered.  It was a metal ring, bolted to the floor.  Lofty could see the seam of a trap door.

            	“Can I open it?” Lofty asked, and the figure remained motionless.  He reached down and tugged on the ring.  It didn’t budge.  “Topaz, could you help me get this cleared off?”

            	They removed as much dirt and rubble as they could, all under the strange gaze of the watchful creature.  It was a difficult task — the build up of debris over the years had left piles of rubble blocking the door.

Finally, though, they managed to clear most of it off of the trapdoor.  Lofty tried the ring again, pulling it with a mighty lurch.  This time, the trap door jerked open with a loud screech of rusted metal.  Both ponies flinched at the sound as Lofty eased the door all the way open.

            	They didn’t dare to breathe as they waited to see if anypony had heard the noise.  Lofty shared a significant glance with Escher, and the changeling took to the air and flew out of the building.  The seconds ticked by silently.

            	Finally Escher flew back into the room, seeming unconcerned.  Lofty breathed a sigh of relief, and finally glanced down into the blackness beneath the trapdoor.  It was far too dark to see anything except the first two stairs.

            	“C’mon, let’s get inside a bit, then I’ll cast a light spell,” he whispered.

            	“I can…” The skeletal pony stepped forward, moving her head oddly.  “Oh.  No.  I used to be able to…” she trailed off, pawing at her forehead and missing horn with one hoof. Lofty gaped as the skeletal face seemed to first freeze with horror, then slip into a sort of blankness.  She cocked her head oddly to the side.  “Who are you?  What are you doing here?  This is not your place.”

            	“What happened to you?” Topaz’s voice was horrified.  “The Empress said you cast a spell, trading your memories for life.  Is it… ongoing?”

            	“I did what?” the figure whispered.  “I don’t remember.”

            	“Let’s go have a look.”  Lofty carefully shuffled, one hoof at a time, down the stairs, going just deep enough that the light from his gauntlet would be unseen in the street.  Once he lifted his hoof, the entire stairway lit up with glowing light.  Topaz’ eyes followed his trailing hoof with interest, and even Escher, who had found a perch on Topaz’ back, seemed fascinated.  The figure didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

            	Hoof raised in the air, Lofty cautiously made his way down the rest of the stairs into a cramped basement.  There was barely enough room for the three of them to stand side by side without touching the wall.  Lofty was pleased Escher had chosen to remain in his bird form.

            	The floor of the room was dusty, but Lofty immediately saw a pile of decaying tomes and scrolls in one corner.  He stepped over and carefully picked one up, leafing through the pages.  It was ancient, but surprisingly intact.

            	“It looks like a research journal.  Somebody was studying magic,” he muttered.  It made no sense to him.  He flipped through, glancing at odd passages, noting odd names he didn’t recognize like Starswirl the Beared and Clover the Clever. 

            	“Somepony was trying to recreate something,” the figure said.  She held a hoof out for the book, and Lofty handed it over.  It was unsettling to see the skeletal, empty eye sockets glancing over the words on the page as if there were real eyes there. “A spell.  She cast it once.  It was bad then, and it was going to be bad again.  But she couldn’t see any other way.”

            	It was odd.  The creature was reading the book as if she had no memory of the contents.  She scanned the pages quickly.  “A time spell.  Whoever was writing this once cast a spell to travel back to a specific point in time, to change one single thing.  It ended up being a horrible decision, and she regretted it for years.  But it seems like she was trying to repeat the process.”

            	“Why?” Topaz gaped at the creature.  Lofty felt the same.  Time travel?  What kind of insanity was that?

            	“I think she felt backed into a corner.  Like she had no other options,” the figure said.  “Maybe she didn’t even believe it would work, but didn’t know what else to try.”

            	“The spell would send her back to one moment in time?” Lofty asked.  “Which moment was it?”

            	“The notes say she was trying to go to 367 AF,” the figure read.  Lofty blinked.

            	“That was the year Sunset Shimmer was executed,” he explained to a confused looking Topaz and Escher.  “Or, at least according to the records.”

            	“You’re talking about that story you told.  About the changeling that replaced Sunset Shimmer before her death,” Topaz’ eyes lit up with understanding.

            	“Maybe she blamed herself for something,” the skeletal figure intoned, it’s voice mournful.  “Maybe she was trying to fix something she’d messed up, and was hoping Sunset could help.  And she got Sunset all tied up in her own problems, and Sunset got hurt because of it.”

            	“It’s almost like you remember,” Topaz breathed.  The figure cocked her head to the side as she glanced at Topaz.

            	“Remember what?” The book slipped, forgotten, from her hooves.  Lofty reached and picked it up.  “Who are you?  You don’t belong here.  This isn’t…”

            	She trailed off before she finished the sentence, leaning in to closely peer at Lofty.  He wanted to shrink back, but something held him frozen in place.  He had the strangest sense of being weighed and judged.  “This isn’t… your place?” She sounded completely unsure this time.  “I—”

            	There was no visible emotion in the remains of Starlight Glimmer.  No eyes to convey her sadness or confusion, no brows to furrow in worry, no mouth to turn down in distress.  But Lofty could see it all anyways.

            	“I know you don’t remember,” he began, lifting a hoof to brush comfortingly along Starlight’s bony shoulder.  “But I have a friend who’s in trouble.  See, she cast a spell that made her forget things.  And now she’s hurting, and I’d like to fix it.  I just need to know what I can do.”

            	“Somepony’s forgetting things?” Starlight whispered.  Lofty nodded.  “Why?”

            	“Because she felt bad about something.  A mistake she made,” Lofty said.  “She cast the spell to try and fix things.  But it took so long that she started forgetting why she even cast the spell.  And I want to tell her that the mistake she made has been fixed, but she doesn’t remember enough to even understand what I’m trying to say.”  He held out the journal again, pressing it into her hooves.  She glanced at it. “You seem smart.  Can you help with my problem?”

            	“I’m smart?” she asked blankly, glancing between Lofty and the book.  She gripped the book, bringing it in front of her muzzle.  “I’m...”

            	“Your name is Starlight Glimmer,” Topaz supplied after she trailed off.  “Your friend Empress Cadence begged us to help you.  Princess Luna, too.”

            	“Starlight Glimmer…” she whispered.  It was just like when Topaz had asked her name before.  “I don’t remember my name.  Was it… me?” Her empty eyes found Lofty.  “It was me you were talking about.  I’m the one who forgot.”

            	“You’re hurting, Starlight.” Lofty was so frustrated for the poor mare.  “And I don’t know just how to get through to you.  I’d make it better if I could.  I can’t stand to see a pony in pain like you are.”

            	“Somepony wrote something down about a spell like that,” Starlight said.  She set the book down on the floor and stared at it, waiting for something.  She jerked her forehead about, then sunk her head in confusion, once again lifting a hoof to her forehead.  “Why won’t it…”

            	“Here, let me,” Lofty offered, flipping the book open.  “Just tell me where to find what you’re looking for.”

            	“I think it’s towards the middle.” Starlight still sounded confused.  “After the notes about creating a Tantabus.”

            	Lofty was curious, but it could wait for later.  He flipped through the pages, trying to read the pages upside down to find the right section.  After a few moments of flipping, he managed to find the section about the Tantabus.  There were several diagrams and images, many of which oddly looked like a winged unicorn.  He flipped past until he found what looked like a personal journal.

            	“Today, Twilight and I fought,” he read.  “She found out about the spell.  She’s right.  I know she’s right.  But I can’t stop.  Besides, it’s not like I’m hurting anypony but myself.  The spell was designed to be fueled by memories stolen from other ponies, but I’ve adjusted it to use my own.  She thinks I don’t know what I’m giving up.  I know.  I simply don’t care.”  He glanced up at Starlight.  “Can it be undone?”

            	“No,” Starlight flipped through the pages, scanning the journal entries.  “It can’t be undone.  But after so many memories bartered away, the cursed pony appears to reach a sort of hideous immortality.”  Her voice was detached, disconnected from the horror she didn’t even realize she was living.

            	“Isn’t there something we can do?” Lofty pleaded.  “I would give up some of my own memories, if it would bring you even a moment of clarity.”

            	There was a slight hum, and the wall behind them glowed slightly with violet light. Lofty and Topaz both spun, glancing at the outline of a rectangle made by some light shining from behind cracks in the wall.

            	“That.  That was hers,” Starlight murmured.  She wasn’t even looking at the light, she was reading the book.  “The relic that drew me here.”

            	Lofty and Topaz glanced at each other.  Starlight was remembering things, even if it was something small.

            	“How do we—” Lofty reached a hoof up to the lit up rectangle.  The stone felt warm to the touch, and smooth.  It started to move, and Lofty jerked back, startled.

            	The stone slid down, revealing a small depression in the wall.  Inside was an ornate jewelry box, which was glowing brightly with something inside.

            	“It’s reacting to something you said,” Starlight whispered, from where her empty eyes were still locked in the pages of the journal.  “You meant it, when you offered your own memories, didn’t you?”

            	“What is it?” Lofty breathed, eyes frozen on the jewelry box.  But Starlight had gone silent.  He glanced at Topaz, who was smiling eagerly.

            	“I think it’s yours,” she said cryptically, and when his eyebrows lowered in confusion, she simply nodded to the box.  “Open it.  I want to see.”

            	“But—” he was going to protest, to ask how Topaz even knew it was safe, but something about the softly pulsing light drew him in.  He tapped gently at the box with a hoof, and nothing changed.  Carefully, almost reverently, he lifted the lid and peered inside.

            	The glow was coming from a diamond-shaped violet gem, set inside a golden necklace. It seemed to hum gently as he stared at it; it was a soft, comforting sound.  Without thinking he reached out and touched it, and suddenly his world was consumed in violet light.


*   *   *   *   *


            	Lofty awoke standing on a starry path.  In one direction, behind him, the path was singular, but in front it splayed into a thousand different winding roads.  He glanced about.  Images flickered in the starry darkness about him.  It was nothing he could make out, but they didn’t seem frightening.

            	“I see you finally have arrived, my little pony.”  The voice came out of nowhere, but he oddly wasn’t startled.  He glanced to his side to see the largest pony he’d ever met, maybe even twice his size, floating through the starry void towards him on spread wings.  She had white fur and a flowing mane, colored by an ever-changing rainbow of pastels.  From her forehead sprung a long, majestic horn.  She landed on the path next to him.

            	He felt somehow dwarfed by her, and not just because of her size.  There was something regal about the pony’s presence, something that made him feel small and insignificant when compared to her glory and beauty.  He felt the instinctive need to bow, to humble himself before this perfection in pony form.

            	“Who are you?”

            	“I am called Celestia, Lofty.”

            	Now he did bow, sinking down to his belly on the starry path, his gaze darting down and away from her lavender eyes.  Celestia!  One of the Diarchs!  But just like with Princess Luna, he didn’t feel frightened, only awed and small.

            	“Please stand. My days as princess are long over.  I am here in another role, young stallion.”  He glanced up from the path, and she was smiling down at him, holding out a hoof.  When he didn’t move, she smirked, and reached down to lift him with her hoof, gently guiding him to his hooves until he was standing next to her.  “That’s better.  Now, what did Topaz tell you of her experiences with the Element of Laughter?”

            	“Not much,” Lofty admitted.  “We’ve tried to be careful about the things we’ve said in the open, leaving only our dreams to speak.”  He blushed when he thought about some of the other things they’d been getting up to in dreams, instead of speaking about business.

            	“My sister’s realm is a safe place for that kind of thing.”  Celestia’s ambiguous statement wasn’t helped by the amused smirk she wore.  “But did she tell you she spoke with Pinkie Pie?”

            	“She mentioned it,” Lofty said.

            	Celestia nodded.  “When the Element’s previous owners left your world, passing on to the next, they left behind impressions on the Elements they bore.  Topaz spoke to the last owner of the Element of Laughter.  Your friend Emberglow spoke to Applejack, the last Element of Honesty.  When the others find their Elements, they, in turn, will speak with the piece of the pony left behind in the Element they once represented.  But you, Lofty Tale, have just taken hold of the Element of Generosity.  And Rarity still lives, so she has not left a piece of herself behind, the way the others have.”

            	“So why am I speaking with you?” Lofty asked in awe.

            	“Because I was the first to hold the Element of Generosity, along with the others.  And though the path we alicorns take to the next life is different from the paths trod by other ponies, I have, by all definitions, passed on.”

            	“So you’re saying, I’m…” he trailed off, his eyes drifting around the unclear images surrounding them both.  Slowly, they came into focus.  He saw himself, risking his own social status in order to reach out to a bullied page.  He saw himself hitched up to a cart full of vegetables that he’d grown in his own garden, hauling it to the soup kitchen that would never bear his name.  He saw himself offer his own memories to soothe the pain of a broken pony.

            	“Why do you think you’re here, Lofty Tale?” Celestia asked as he glanced around wonderingly.

            	“I’m to bear an Element of Harmony?” He was barely able to find breath to make the words.

            	“If you choose to, yes.” She gestured at the memories floating through the stars.  “Though given your history, I’m fairly certain of what you will choose.”

            	She was right.  There was no question.  If he was called to bear this duty, he would rise to the occasion.

            	“What do I do?” he asked.  Celestia beamed.

            	“You’re so brave. I’m proud of you, my little pony.”  She glanced off into the distance.  “Now, you have several tasks in front of you.  Some you know.  Starlight Glimmer needs to find rest, and you need to find out what happened to Sunset Shimmer.  You will also need to reunite with the other Elements of Harmony.”

            	“And when that’s done?  What do we do with the Elements?”

            	“Harmony must return to Equestria,” Celestia stomped a hoof with determination.  The impact sent a loud clop echoing throughout the empty space about them. “That means bringing balance to the races.  It means finding rightful owners for the Elements, and it also means restoring the alicorns.”

            	“Alicorns?”

            	“Ponies like myself and my sister, who represent all of the pony races.  Harmony cannot truly thrive in Equestria unless it is led by one of us.”

            	“And um, how do we do that? Restore the alicorns?” Lofty asked, and Celestia looked away, a light blush dusting her cheeks.

            	“I… don’t know,” she admitted.  “I… don’t remember a time when I wasn’t an alicorn.  Neither does Luna.  Flurry Heart was born as one.  Cadence and Twilight earned their status, though the path was different for both, and unexpected.  I have tried before to shape some of my students into worthy recipients of alicornhood.”  Her gaze was distant and sad.  “... with mixed results.  I was grooming Sunset Shimmer for the role, but she made other choices.  Choices she later grew to regret, deeply.  If you wish to begin unraveling the mysteries of alicornhood, you may need to find out what happened to Sunset Shimmer.”

            	“Where do I start?”

            	“Always the direct questions with you, Lofty?” she sounded amused.  “Very well.  Starlight should know, if you can help her remember.  If not, there’s her notes.  I believe that when Equestria truly started to fall apart, Starlight contacted Sunset for help.  She blames herself for Sunset’s death.”

            	“But Sunset Shimmer didn’t die that day.”

            	“I know, Lofty,” Celestia said mysteriously.  “But what really did happen to her?”

            	“I—” Lofty never got to finish his question. The starlight path started to disappear, the images around them swirling and twisting like paint in a bucket, all stirred together.

            	“Our time is up, it seems,” Celestia sounded mournful.  “Good luck, Lofty Tale.”

            	Everything went black.


*   *   *   *   *


            	Lofty’s eyes shot open, and the first thing he saw was his marefriend’s concerned face, close to his.  So he did the only logical thing, leaning up in a quick movement to peck her on the lips.  She jerked back.

            	“Lofty!  You’re awake!” She blinked a few times, looking startled, before narrowing her eyes at him.  “Don’t scare me like that!”

            	He glanced around.  They were still in the tiny basement room at the bottom of the stairs, though now he was laid out on the floor.  He felt something  around his neck, something cool and heavy.  He reached down to lift it up with one hoof.

            	It was the Element of Generosity.  Only, it had changed — it was no longer shaped like a diamond, but instead like an open book, a reflection of his own cutie mark.  He let it rest against his chest, looking up at Topaz.

            	“Did you know this was going to happen?  That I was going to carry an Element alongside you?”

            	“Know?  No,” Topaz shook her head, a grin bubbling it’s way onto her muzzle.  “But I did suspect, and hope.  I’m not too sure I believe in coincidence much any longer.”

            	“Are you saying we were meant to be together?” Lofty cooed theatrically at her while waggling his eyebrows, and Escher coughed loudly.  Topaz and Lofty laughed.  “Sorry.  How is Starlight doing?”

            	They glanced over at Starlight, who was still standing in the same spot Lofty had left her in, glancing at the book on the floor.

            	“These notes say Starlight modified the spell.” Starlight’s voice was detached and clinical.  “So that part of her would remember her mission.  “It says she wanted to find Rarity, and find a way to undo what happened to Sunset Shimmer.”

            	“What would happen to Starlight if she found Rarity?” Lofty asked.

            	“Rest,” Starlight whispered.  There was such a finality to the word that Lofty almost didn’t notice the desperate longing underneath.

            	“We could maybe bring her with us?  When we go to meet up with Emberglow?” Topaz didn’t sound too sure, but Lofty nodded.  “That’s where Rarity is, after all.  I’m just not sure about how we’re going to bring her along without drawing attention.”

            	“We’ll find a way.  Starlight, when we leave this place, will you come with us?  We’re also looking for Rarity.”

            	Starlight was silent. Lofty paused a moment, waiting for a response, but she didn’t say a word. Finally, he shrugged. He was fairly certain she would follow the Element wherever it went, anyway.

            	“Should we leave right away?” Lofty asked.  He suddenly realized he didn’t know how long he’d been out.  “Oh, what time is it? Are we behind schedule?”

            	“You were only asleep for an hour,” Topaz offered.  “There’s still a few hours until sunrise.”

            	“Good.  I’d like to get out of this city, then, and see if we can hitch a ride on the soonest train.”

            	“Like before?” Topaz sounded nervous, but Lofty smiled confidently.

            	“Of course, just like before.”  He glanced at Escher.  “Would you scout the way again?”

            	Escher hooted gently and flew up the stairs and out of the basement.  Lofty and Topaz waited.  Lofty silently watched Starlight’s blank, skeletal face, wondering what the mare could possibly be thinking.

            	“Um, Starlight?” Topaz began.  “You might want to lift up your hood.  Just in case.”

            	Starlight didn’t say anything, but she did lift the hood of her cloak up over her face.  Lofty picked up the journal she had been reading and stashed it in his saddlebags.

            	“Just let me know if you want to look at the journal again, okay?”

            	“Journal?” Starlight asked, and Lofty cringed.  She’d already forgotten.  He shared a concerned look with Topaz.

            	“We’ll talk about it later,” Lofty replied, just as Escher flew back down the stairs and hooted softly.  Lofty took that as an ‘all clear’, and the three ponies climbed the stairs.

            	There was nopony in sight as they stepped into the snowy street, and Lofty lead the way, heading towards the edge of the ruins.  He glanced behind them; even in the starlight he could see the looming dark shadow of Canterlot Palace behind them.  He remembered being excited to see it, once.  Now it filled him with foreboding.  The heart of the Knighthood, just a few blocks away.

            	Silently they moved through the streets as quickly as they could.  Lofty cast the same spell as before, leaving no trace of hoofprints behind, while Escher flew on ahead to scout.   Starlight trailed along behind them like a wraith, almost eerily silent.  They darted between shattered buildings and through abandoned streets, all the while watching for the telltale hoofprints of Mystic patrols.

            	The ambush came out of nowhere.  Lofty didn’t have time for anything more than a desperate backstep as the spears of two Mystics flashed towards him in the moonlight.

            	“Behind me!” he yelped at Topaz, fumbling for his own spear as he tried to shove her behind him.  The two Knights Mystic were unrelenting, pressing their advantage as they forced him backwards.

            	“You’re not students,” one Knight mare snarled, while her partner tried to circle behind Lofty.  He continued to back away, trying to use the buildings and ruins to stop the other mare from flanking him.  “What are you doing here?”

            	“Just going for a bit of a walk,” he said blithely, jerking to the side as a spear thrust sought his throat.  He finally managed to free his spear, jerking it up just in time to knock a second thrust aside.  “Minding our own business, that sort of thing.  Really, you don’t need to bother.”

            	“He’s enhanced, sister,” the second mare hissed.  “A heretic.”

            	Lofty clicked his tongue.  “We mean you no harm.  Back away and leave us be, and I won’t have to hurt you.”

            	“You’re outnumbered, heretic.  Your companion doesn’t look like a fighter.  Surrender now and this will all go easier for you.”

            	Lofty spared a glance to look for Starlight.  She was nowhere to be seen.  Besides, he couldn’t rely on her for help.

            	The two Knights stopped trying to flank him, and instead spread out a few paces apart, just far enough to make it difficult to block their thrusts.  They fought in perfect concert, neither one looking for a killing stroke, instead darting in for quick, wounding strikes.  They were trying to harry him, he realized.

            	One Knight finally broke through his defenses, cutting into his right shoulder.  He flinched, hissing in pain, just as the other Knight’s spear scored a thin line on his cheek.  He counterstruck with a deep stab, but the Knights were already dodging out of reach.  The first Knight struck again, and Lofty nearly screamed as the blade pierced his hoof deep enough to drive into the dirt underneath him, impaling him in place.

            	There was a flash of movement behind them, and then a sudden flash of green fire.  In a blink, Escher shed his owl form, and a colossal grizzly bear stood in its place.  Neither Knight had enough time to turn when the bear’s gigantic paw swiped sideways, slamming into one of the Knights hard enough to send her sprawling.

            	There was something absolutely terrifying about the changeling warrior; unlike a normal bear, he made no sound, silently pouncing towards the Knight he’d just knocked aside.  In a very un-bearlike motion, Escher clenched together both claws into a giant fist, and crashed them down on the prone mare.  Once, twice, and finally a third time, he smashed her into the dirt until she remained motionless.  

            	Meanwhile, Lofty and the other Knight were facing off once again.  She lifted her hoof, glowing with motes as she began to cast a spell.  He recognized the runes of an alarm spell, something that would send out a loud klaxon call to all other nearby patrols.  He had only a second, and he was pinned to the ground.  Desperately, he lifted his own spear and threw it like a javelin, praying for a lucky strike.

            	The spear flew true, gouging deep into the Mystic’s glowing hoof.  She yelped in pain, and he reached down to grasp the spear pinning him to the ground with his teeth.  With a grunt of effort, he yanked, gasping in pain.  Blood spilled onto the snow beneath him, but he ignored it.

            	“W-who are you?” the mare stammered, terror in his voice. 

 Lofty didn’t hesitate.  He lunged, using the Knight’s own spear to stab at her through her barrel, at the point where her armor met her gauntlet.  She opened her mouth in surprise, but only blood came out. She flopped to the ground, lying motionless in a growing pool of blood.

            	“C’mon, we have to be out of here,” he panted, not stopping for a second.  He turned to look at Topaz. She was frozen in place, her eyes quivering and wide with horror.  “Topaz, please. You can hate me later, but we have to go!”

            	He glanced over at Escher, who appeared just as frozen, still in the shape of a bear standing over the slumped form of the other Knight.  Right, he remembered.  Escher was a Crystal Empire guard.  This was possibly the first action he’d ever seen.

            	“I-I, uh, I had to—” Escher stammered.

            	“No time, Escher.  We’re not safe,” Lofty said.  “Topaz isn’t safe.  Help me get us all to safety.”

            	“Topaz…” Escher glanced over at Topaz, and took a shuddering breath.  “Right.  I’ll have a meltdown later, though.”  He plodded over to Topaz, nudging her with one clawed paw.  She stammered, her eyes frozen on the dead bodies slumped in the snow, and on the pools of blood.

            	“I-I…” Finally she blinked, looking down at Lofty’s hoof.  “You’re hurt!”  Blood still oozed from the wound into the snow.

            	“We’ll have to get that patched up before we can retreat.  Can you cast healing spells?” Escher asked.

            	Lofty shook his head.  “It doesn’t work that way.  I can’t heal myself.”

            	“I got this,” Topaz said.  She pulled off her saddlebags, plopping them into the snow in her frenzied desperation to get inside.  She dug around clumsily for a moment, before yanking out a first aid kit.  “Get over here, Lofty.”  Her voice was shaking.  Her hooves were shaking.  He moved in front of her, and she seized his hoof, squeezing tightly.

            	“Are you—”

            	“I’m fine,” she snapped, breathing hard.  “Sorry.  I can’t think about it now, can I?”  She grabbed a roll of gauze and began tightly packing the wound.  “Hold this on.  Lofty, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”  Her voice was terrified.

            	“Any other pony would be unconscious.  Knights are super-ponies, after all.”  It was an act.  He felt dizzy.  He held the gauze down as tightly as he could.

            	“He’s lying,” said a raspy voice next to them, and both Lofty and Topaz jerked, startled at Starlight’s sudden reappearance.  “He’s really quite injured!”

            	“Starlight!” Topaz gasped, blinking as she recovered from her shock.  “Are you okay?  Where’d you go during the fight.”

            	“Sometimes I disappear,” Starlight replied vaguely.  She moved her head down to the wound, twisting it just slightly.  “I can help.  One second…”  Topaz and Lofty gave each other stricken looks.

            	“Starlight?” Topaz said softly.  “Your horn, remember?”

            	“My—” she raised a bony hoof to her forehead.  “Oh.”  She straightened, staring off blankly past the two ponies, and went silent.  Lofty wondered if she’d already forgotten the conversation.

            	Meanwhile, Topaz finished packing the gauze around Lofty’s wound and began wrapping it tightly with a bandage.

            	“Will you be able to walk?” she asked, the worry evident in her tone.  Lofty smiled confidently.

            	“I’ll be just fine,” he said.

            	“But Starlight said you were…”

            	“If he faints, I’ll just have to carry him,” Escher cut in.  Lofty wanted to be embarrassed by the idea, but the adrenaline of the fight was wearing off, and he felt far too tired to protest.

            	“We’ll be okay,” he said, holding up the hoof she’d just finished bandaging.  He flexed it experimentally, ignoring the biting pain that shot up his leg.  It would have to be enough; he’d just keep his weight off.

He was more worried about the two of them.  Escher had just killed for the first time, and Topaz had watched both her lover and her best friend take life.  Both needed some time to process what had happened; time he couldn’t give them.  “Let’s get moving.”

Once again, a burst of green fire surrounded Escher, as he took to the air in owl form again.  More slowly than before, the three ponies followed after.  Lofty did his best to move quickly, but it was obvious even to him that the blood he’d lost, combined with the pain of the wound, was making him much slower than before.  After a few blocks, Topaz dropped back to trot behind him.

“Are you sure—”

“No time,” he panted back at her, before she could even ask.  “Let’s get out of the city, and then I promise you can nurse me as much as you like.”  He tried to keep his voice light, perhaps even flirty, and at least he got a halfhearted laugh out of Topaz.

The sky was just starting to glow with the light of impending sunrise when the ponies and changeling reached the edge of town.  A palette of reds and oranges glowed across the clouds, and Lofty couldn’t help but feel exposed.  It didn’t help that his own thoughts were becoming more and more fuzzy as time went on.  The next time he saw Escher flying overhead, he waved him down.

“I’m compromised,” he whispered once Escher had landed, trying to ignore the look of fear that oozed over Topaz’s face.  “I can still walk for now, but you’ll need to lead.  You’re in charge, Escher.  We’ve got to get to the train tracks, outside town, and find shelter to hide until I’m strong enough to jump onboard.”

“I—” Escher blinked, then shook his feathered head.  It was even odder to hear his voice coming from the owl than it had been coming from the bear.  “Okay.  Okay, Lofty.  I’ve got this.”

The next several hours were a blur.  Escher led them on a winding route, doubling back and retreading their old tracks.  The spell Lofty had cast earlier had long since worn off, and there were obvious trails in the snow, though Escher was doing his best to make sure they led nowhere. 

            	After a while Lofty mostly forgot what was happening, focusing only on his hooves.  One hoofstep at a time.  One in front of the other, as he followed the brown blur of the owl flying above them.  Every so often he would stumble, and somepony on his side would help him upright again.  He didn’t even notice when the broken buildings around him became trees.

            	When they finally came to a stop, the sun was high in the sky.  Lofty wished it would go away; he just wanted to sleep for a bit.  Ponies were saying things, things that sounded concerned, but he didn’t hear.  Finally Topaz guided him over to a blanket laid out on the ground, and he slumped down and drifted off.


*   *   *   *   *


            	A gentle, loping motion brought Lofty out of his slumber.  He opened his eyes slowly, still feeling weak from his earlier blood loss, though he did feel better.  He glanced around to see the trees shifting past him at an oddly quick rate.  His eyes widened, and he strained to get up.

            	“Don’t get up!” Topaz called from behind him.  He turned his neck enough to glance at her.  She was running along beside him, though she was below his height.  Lofty blinked a few times, trying to absorb what was happening with his sleep-fogged brain.  The ground underneath him continued to move.

            	No.  It wasn’t ground.  Above him, he saw an impressive rack of antlers.  It was a moose.  A very large moose. 

            	“Escher?” he asked.  His mouth was dry.

            	“Do you need to stop?” the moose called back at him.

            	Lofty was about to say no, but Topaz spoke up before he could.  “We should.  Now that Lofty’s awake, I want to get some food in him.”

            	Escher slowed to a walk, moving until they were just downhill from a dense stand of fir trees.  He carefully curled up on the ground, so as  not to disturb Lofty.

            	“My saddlebags—”

            	“Right behind you,” Topaz said, and he looked, finding the bags tied awkwardly around the moose’s barrel, just behind where he’d been laying.  “Don’t get up.  I’ll help you down.”

            	“I’m not a foal,” Lofty complained.  It sounded whiny even to his own ears.

            	“No, but you’re weak as one,” Topaz insisted as she wrapped her hooves around him, lifting him gently off Escher’s back.  There was a strain in her voice that made Lofty flinch slightly.  He wondered if the stress he heard had anything to do with the fact that she’d just seen him kill. “Let’s get you something to eat.  I hope you don’t mind broth.”

            	He took comfort in her gentle touch, even though she was worryingly silent.  He glanced over at Escher, who was catching his breath, slumped in the snow.

            	“I’m sorry you both had to go through that.”

            	That got a reaction.  Topaz snorted, squeezing her hooves around him.  “Why are you sorry?  I was useless.  I couldn’t help at all.  I should apologize to you.”

            	“No, I—”

            	“Yes, everybody’s sorry,” Escher snorted somewhat testily, interrupting them both.  “We should be talking about what happens next.”  He looked hard at Lofty.

            	“That depends on how much ground we covered while I was sleeping,” Lofty said.  “And how much further you can go.”

            	“This moose body is surprisingly tough,” Escher noted.  “Carrying you was almost effortless.  We’re far past the point where we jumped on the train to begin with.”

            	“How long did I sleep?” Lofty’s eyes widened in shock.

            	“Four hours,” Topaz said.  She had been pouring something into a cup, and she handed it to Lofty.  “Sorry.  It’s cold.  We didn’t want to risk a fire.”

            	“Smart.  Has there been any sign of pursuit?” he sipped at the cold broth.  It might have tasted good if it had been warm.

            	“Nothing,” Topaz shook her head.  “Nothing that we could see, at least.  It seems that our...” She trailed off.  “Um, I mean, the…” She began to breath harder, and he squeezed her suddenly stiff hooves.  She clenched her eyes shut and took several deep breaths.

            	“Topaz?  As a therapist, I’m curious.  What do you do to help somepony who has just experienced trauma?”

            	“Don’t do this,” she breathed, though she leaned into his embrace.

            	“What do you mean?”

            	“Don’t try to fix this right away,” Topaz told him.  “Don’t try to make it all okay in an instant.  It’s not okay, but it will be.  I’m going to need time.”

            	“You saw me kill somepony,” Lofty said, squeezing her tightly.  “I knew it would be hard for you.”

            	“Me too,” Topaz admitted.  “I knew it would be coming.  I tried to prepare myself.  It’s the sort of thing we’re involved in.  It would be silly to think we could have done all this without violence.  But still.”

            	“You’re hurting,” Starlight said from right next to them, and they both jumped.  She had a way of appearing out of nowhere, of moving without being noticed and disappearing when they weren’t paying attention.  It was unnerving.  “You should be.  Something is wrong with all of this.  Ponies shouldn’t kill ponies.”

            	“Yeah, but it’s not like Lofty had any choice,” Topaz said with some heat.  Lofty felt a glow of love.  Regardless of her own struggles, she was defending him.  It felt good.  “He didn’t make the situation, he’s just adapted to it.  I’ll be fine, I just need some time, okay?”

            	“Better to fight against the wrongness than to surrender to it.” Starlight’s whispered voice was strange and distant.  Lofty stared at her, wondering what she was thinking.  She was a mystery, a blank slate.  Finally he shook his head and set it aside for later.

            	“How are you doing, Escher?” he asked, looking over at the changeling.  Escher shivered.

            	“I trained my whole life to fight, almost.  First I was going to join the Queens’ guard, then I passed the tests to join the Imperial House Guard, the elite force that protects the Empress herself.  I knew there was a chance I would have to take a life someday, but…” he sighed, shaking his massive antlered head.  “There’s always a pretty huge difference between training and reality, isn’t there?”

            	“Would it help if I told you about my first time taking a life?” Lofty said.  Escher eyed him for a moment, then nodded, a tiny motion for such a huge creature.  He glanced at Topaz, and she gave him a small nod as well.

            	“Okay.  This takes me back to my very first assignment.  I’d just barely taken my oaths, and I was assigned as a junior investigator to Lady Gale Force, a senior Knight Vigilant who was investigating a murder in the Valley Ward of New Canterlot City.”  They were just words, but the words dug up the memories.  The stench of the factory floor, pony sweat, smoke, and blood.  The dark shadows cast by the silent, still machinery, closed for investigation.  The whispered murmur of the rubbernecking crowd outside. 

            	“The victim was a factory boss.”  He spoke to push past the images.  “She had a reputation for being a real nasty piece of work, but she was connected.  Rich, powerful family.”  He remembered the open eyes of the corpse, glazed and stony. “It was obvious in the first few days of the investigation that she’d been killed probably by one of her own abused workers.”  He felt the pain of those memories, the hurt of days of looking at the lives of those poorest citizens of the city.  It was the whole reason he’d started up the soup kitchen that now bore his family’s name.

            	“It turns out, the killer had been a young mare.  The factory boss had been beating her. And… and other things.”  He clenched his eyes shut, remembering the eyes.  It was always the eyes.  “She wouldn’t let me arrest her.  It makes sense.  The victim’s family would have pushed for a hanging.  And it probably would have happened; the evidence was clear.  But she begged me.  Told me all about the ways the boss had been hurting her—”

            	He shook his head.  “I tried to tell her I would do everything I could to make sure her story got told, but she wouldn’t hear it.  She knew she had no way out, but she didn’t want to go to trial.  To relive it all over again, to be made out to be the bad mare in all of this.  So she attacked me.”

            	His cheeks were wet; tears were flowing freely now.  “She was like a demon. No martial training, no Knight enhancement like I had, but I was barely fending her off.  She knew getting through me was her only chance.  I couldn’t just let her kill me, and I couldn’t let her go.  In the end, at least she was spared a trial and the noose.”  He remembered the feel of his spear as it pressed against her throat.  The split second of resistance, then the rush of fluid.  The light in her eyes snuffed like a candle flame.

            	He opened his mouth to say more.  He tried, but all that came out was a rasp of exhaled breath, and a small sob.  He felt a hoof at his cheek, pulling his gaze up and looked into Topaz’ eyes.  She was weeping.

            	“You could go your whole life trying to atone for the first,” Lofty whispered.  “Some throw themselves into work, some bury it deep.  Some try to find atonement at the bottom of a bottle.”  He laughed.  “Some ridiculous ponies build soup kitchens.  But the moment that she died is going to be with me until I follow her.”

            	Topaz pulled him into a tight embrace, and he locked eyes with Escher over her shoulder.  “You wanted some sort of quick fix?  A platitude?  I’m sorry.  I’m still looking myself.”

            	Escher stared at him for a moment, then turned away, his gaze distant.  He gave out a few ragged breaths, the hot steam white in the chilled air as it burst out of his nostrils. For a moment, they just stayed still like that, each pony lost in their own thoughts as the silence of the snowy forest took over again.

            	Suddenly, Starlight stood up, glancing downhill. “Something’s happening,” she said.  “We should hurry.”

            	“Wha…”

            	“Hurry!” Starlight rasped desperately, loud enough to make both ponies and changeling jump in shock.  They glanced at each other worriedly, and Lofty quickly downed the last of the cold broth.

            	“Come on up, Lofty,” Escher walked over, leaning down so that he could once again climb on Escher’s transformed back.  Lofty shoved his bruised pride deep; whatever had Starlight nervous was probably more important than his own frustration at being carried about like a foal.

            	“Drink when you can,” Topaz said as she pressed a waterskin into his hooves.  “You lost a lot of blood.  You need as much fluid as possible.”  He glanced at it and took a whiff at the mouth.  It was more broth, and he nodded obediently, even as his nose twisted with distaste.

            	Soon enough, the trees were shooting past them as Escher’s powerful hooves simply ate up the distance.  Topaz was skiing behind them, sweating and panting with effort after only a few minutes.  But most of this leg of the trip was downhill, so at least there was plenty of coasting.  Starlight ran beside them.  Lofty tried not to think too hard about the way she left no hoofprints in the snow as she ran.


*   *   *   *   *


            	Topaz proved a determined nursemaid.  As they ran, she ensured that Lofty rested as much as possible.  She even kept forcing him to drink from the waterskin full of broth.  He could have tried explaining to her that he was a Knight; he healed more quickly than other ponies.  But the fluid was doing him good, and Escher seemed able to take his weight.

            	He was much more worried about what lay ahead.  As they approached the bed and breakfast where Lofty and Topaz had spent such a pleasant time the night before, Lofty could see smoke drifting up into the cold blue sky.

            	“Starlight?” he called out, glancing around.  “Starlight, what’s…”

            	She was gone.  Again.  He glanced at Topaz, unable to hide his worry.  But there was no time for dealing with the mystery of Starlight Glimmer right now. 

            	The smoke was more obvious now, and Lofty could hear the worrying sounds of metal clashing against metal.  The three of them burst into the clearing, with Starlight nowhere in sight.  The scene up ahead was chaos.

            	The bed and breakfast was blazing with fire, black smoke pouring out of the kitchen window.  There were patches of red snow, and several still bodies.  Lofty gulped when he recognized the two stallions who had brought them here by carriage. 

Meanwhile, three Knights Mystic surrounded the Discordant who had helped them earlier, Quiet Sleep.  She wore a set of yellow armor, though even from this distance she looked like she was tiring.  Two of the Mystics were keeping her at bay, while the third stepped back to begin casting something.

            	“Let me down!” Lofty ordered quickly, and Escher quickly complied.  Lofty’s limbs still felt leaden as he hit the snow.  “Topaz, try and find her husband, get him clear of the fight.  Escher, you’re with me?”  He glanced around, looking for a weapon among the fallen Diarchy soldiers.  He dashed over towards a spear.  “Stop him from casting!”

            	“Yes, sir,” Escher said, blinking for a moment in surprise at the automatic response.  The hesitation lasted only a second, however, before he was charging towards the combatants. The casting Mystic turned right at the last second to see the brown avalanche barreling down on him.

            	“Enemy r-reinforcements!” he yelped, scrambling backwards in a panic.  He abandoned his spell, glowing runes dissipating into the air as he brought a spear up to try to meet Escher’s charge.

            Lofty turned his attention towards Quiet Sleep and the other two Mystics.  He forced his exhausted, weak limbs into motion, gripping his spear tightly as he began his own charge.  Briefly, he lamented his lack of armor; he’d have to be careful.

            “It’s the target!  He must be…” a Mystic mare began, but Quiet didn’t let her continue, sweeping low with her own spear in a stab towards the distracted mare’s knees.  She quickstepped back in a little hop to barely avoid the stab.  “Heretic!” she hissed angrily.

            “Tides have turned, Mystic,” Quiet Sleep spat with a grim look.  “Turn and run now if ya know what’s good for ya.”

            “Never!  We can’t…” But Lofty never got to hear what the Mystic couldn’t do, because the casting Mystic was suddenly careening through the air, slamming into his companion and leaving both crashing to the ground.  Escher trotted up besides Lofty, a fresh shallow cut just to the right of his cheek that oozed green blood.

            Quiet Sleep wasted no time pressing her advantage, forcing the remaining Mystic back with a quick set of short thrusts.  Meanwhile, Lofty and Escher rushed towards the two prone ponies.  The mare was standing, but the stallion lay on the ground, groaning and clutching the side of his barrel.

            “Lofty Tale,” the mare hissed.  “You are accused of heresy and treason.  Surrender yourself so you can find repentance.  Your companions will be treated justly.  Don’t resist like your grandfather.”

            “What?” Lofty felt a cold pit of fear in his stomach.  The rest of the world seemed to fade from view; the only thing in his focus was the Mystic.

            “Earlier today, we entered your family manor to take custody of your grandfather, on suspicion of heresy.  He resisted.  The new leader of the Mystics has questions about the young lady that spent a month at your manor a while back.  I would very much like to take you unharmed, since I won’t be able to question him any longer.”

            “My son…” Lofty breathed.  It was the only thing he could think of.  What she was implying was…

            It was too much.

            “Where is my son?”

            “True is with your sister, Lofty.  She was quite helpful in…”

            Lofty saw red.  Sure, Righteous was a lecher, and an ass.  He was cruel and selfish, and calculating.  But he was Lofty’s grandfather.  And this mare had endangered his son.  All of Lofty’s worry about not wearing armor evaporated.  He charged forward, screaming, and saw a satisfied smile slip over her face.

            If you lose the battle with anger, you’ve lost the battle.  It was something Lady Amaranth had said, back at the Ivy Seminary.  The Knight was manipulating him, but it was too late to stop now.  His spear-tip lunged towards her face, and she ducked, shoving his weapon high with a quick twitch of her own.  His front was wide open, but her spear was high.

            He had no time to dodge.  Her gauntleted hoof crashed into his face with a meaty crunch, sprawling him out onto the snowy ground.  His head exploded with pain as it bounced against the dirt, and stars sparkled in his vision.

            “Stay down, Lofty,” the Mystic snarled.  “We’ll deal with…”  He was already lurching to his hooves, the older wound in his hoof protesting painfully as he had to leap to dodge her next swing. “Stay down, damnit!”

            “Not… til son is… safe,” he hissed back.  It hurt to talk; he tasted copper, and felt liquid spilling down his nose.  It was probably broken.  He shook his head to clear it, tightening the grip on his spear, and breathed slowly.  “He’s at the Tale manor?”  

            “I told you, safe with your sister.  Under heavy guard, not that it matters to you right now.  We’re…”

            He let out another cry of guttural rage, surging forward again with spear tip leading.  She gave another smirk, expecting the same blind charge as before.  She set her spear again to knock his out of the way.  He was watching this time.

            He let her knock his spear tip out of the way, like before, but instead he continued to let the spear spin, twisting it high in the air and letting the momentum of his charge carry him right into the Mystic.  Meanwhile he braced the haft of the spear with both forehooves, ramming the wooden handle hard into her face.  He heard the crunch of bone, and blood spurted out of her nostrils.  She stumbled back away from him with a shocked look on her face.

            Lofty wasn’t about to give her time to recover.  He swiped down with the blade of his spear, a clumsy attack, but it made her scramble to parry with her own.  Still, he needed to keep her off-balance. He rushed forward with a flurry of slashes and jabs with his weapon.

            “I don’t—” she grunted “—have to keep you alive, you know.  I can always interrogate your friends.  The other Heretic Knight.  The cute mare.  If you don’t surrender, I’ll be forced to give all my attention to her.”

            “Same tactic won’t work twice,” Lofty shot back.  She gave him a grim smile and shut her mouth.  He saw the determination in her eyes, the fire, as she steeled her own killer instinct.  He could tell she had given up on the idea of taking him alive.  “Besides, I may die, but you’re not going to take her.”  He was confident enough in Escher to be sure of that.

            “As you will, then, Lofty Tale,” she snarled.

            It was growing much harder to ignore the sluggish weakness in his limbs, and the stars still spinning at the corners of his vision from the impact against his head.  The momentum slowly began to turn in her favor, as the Mystic’s parries became less desperate and she regained her footing.  Soon she began to press her own attack again.

            Lofty yelped with pain as the spear found his shoulder, digging a narrow line in his flesh.  He felt the blood oozing out of the shallow cut, but it wouldn’t be alone for long.  The Mystic was fighting cautiously, looking only for small gains and trying to wear him down with minor wounds.  Soon enough Lofty was bleeding from half a dozen different spots.  Both combatants were panting hard, but Lofty’s muscles burned with exhaustion.

            “Make peace with whichever heathen Saints you follow, heretic,” she breathed, as her hardened gaze met his.  “At least you can know you died fighting well.  I haven’t been pressed like that since…”

            She never finished; Quiet Sleep’s charge had been sudden and silent, and the Mystic barely ducked fast enough to avoid the Discordant’s spear through her eye.

            “You killed my husband,” Quiet sobbed, circling around to the Mystic’s flank as she backed away to avoid being surrounded.  Lofty spared a quick glance at the rest of the fight; Escher was still locked in combat with his Knight, but the opponent he’d left to Quiet was still and unmoving in a pile of melting red snow.  “You killed him,” she repeated.

            “Don’t let her get you mad,” Lofty advised, and Quiet’s hard, wet eyes shot to him for a second.  “It’s how she almost got me.”

            “Looks like she already almost got you,” Quiet muttered, and Lofty had to agree, he’d be dead if it weren’t for Quiet.  But now wasn’t time for gratitude.  He began to circle around the Mystic’s right, while Quiet moved left.  “You can take it a little easy now, brother.  I can take this bitch.”

            “It would be an honor to assist, Lady Quiet,” Lofty said softly, and though she didn’t turn to look, Quiet nodded after a pause.

            As much as it did sting his pride, Lofty knew to stay back like she’d recommended.  Quiet was wearing armor, after all, and he wasn’t.  He kept his spot half a step behind her, watching the Mystic’s spear intently.  When she thrust the weapon at Quiet, he quickly parried for her, while Quiet made a thrust of her own.

            It was a different experience for Lofty; he’d trained to fight alongside other Knights way back in the Ivy Seminary, but he had never had the chance to try it in a real fight.  He focused on being Quiet’s shield, parrying each thrust the Mystic made so Quiet could do her best to score hits of her own.  Most of Quiet’s stabs found only the Mystic’s purple armor, but he could tell they were wearing her down.

            His elation came too soon, however.  As he leaned out to swipe away a particularly strong stab, he overbalanced just as his left front hoof hit a patch of ice on the ground.  It slid out from under him and he fell hard, his already pained muzzle striking against the ground.  

Lofty grunted and tried to roll, scrambling to get his hooves under him.  His spear had been knocked aside in the fall, and he stretched out a hoof to reach for it.

            A cry of pain from Quiet made him look up just in time to see the Mystic shoving Quiet off her spear, from where she’d been stabbed deep in the shoulder.  The Mystic’s spear dripped blood as Quiet limped back, whimpering in agony as red blood spilled over her yellow armor.

            “It’s over,” the Mystic muttered, lunging towards Lofty’s downed form.  Lofty knew he would never be fast enough to get out of the way.  Despite all his training, he closed his eyes at the last second.  He didn’t want to watch her end his life.

            There was a sudden thunk, the sound of the spear blade embedding in something solid.  Then strangely, a cry of wordless horror. He didn’t feel any pain either, which was odd.

He opened his eyes to see a robed figure standing over him.  It was Starlight Glimmer.  The spear was embedded in her bony skull, just to the left of the severed stump of her horn.

            “Ponies shouldn’t kill ponies,” she whispered as the Mystic stumbled back, her eyes wide with terror as she released the spear.  “You killed ponies.  Why?”

            “W-what are you?” the Mystic stammered.  

Starlight Glimmer didn’t answer, instead reaching up with one thin hoof to extract the spear from her skull.  “Are you okay?”  She was looking down at Lofty.

            “Y-yes, I think so,” he said, unsurely.  It wasn’t precisely true; he was bleeding from half a dozen wounds, he was sure his muzzle was broken, and his head still swam with a possible concussion from when the Mystic had punched him.  But he was alive.  He glanced over at the horrified Mystic, who turned and galloped away.

            “I don’t think so, bitch!” Quiet Sleep rasped out, surging after her despite her own wounds.  There was hate and violence in the maternal mare’s eyes, and it saddened Lofty to see it.  “Get back here!”  They sprinted off towards the road, but Lofty couldn’t muster the strength to chase after.  He looked up to find his companions.

            Escher was slumped onto the ground, panting hard.  Lofty could see blood in his antlers, and some splashed on his hooves.  His opponent was down in the snow, and Lofty met his eyes.  There was something there, something broken and sad, and as their eyes met Escher nodded softly in wordless understanding.

            Next he looked for Topaz, his eyes suddenly thirsty for the sight of her.  Desperately he searched the chaos about him until he saw her, dragging a still form out of the building.  The bed and breakfast was quickly being consumed by fire, and part of him wanted to yell out, to demand she stay away.  Part of him wanted to chastise her for risking herself in the first place.  But when he saw the form she was dragging, the limp body of Restful Sleep, he understood.

            It took more effort than he cared to admit, but somehow he was able to pull himself to his hooves, gasping with effort.  He felt a steadying hoof on his shoulder, and looked to see Starlight Glimmer beside him.

            “So much wrong,” she whispered.  “It all feels so wrong.  You can make one little thing right, can’t you?”  Her glowing eyes were on his, but then shifted to Topaz and Restful.  Topaz was coughing, but seemed otherwise okay.

            Each step was painful, and he was fairly sure he was leaving at least a bit of precious blood with each hoofstep in the snow behind him, but he managed to drag himself over to Topaz.

            “I think—” she coughed.  “—he might be still alive.”

            Restful Sleep was covered with soot and several stab wounds, but Lofty thought he could see the hint of movement in his chest.

            “I’ve never been the best at healing spells, but I’ll do what I can.” He lifted his hoof in the air and began tracing the runes of one of the few healing spells he knew; a spell to restore lost blood, followed by a second that would fill the lungs with oxygen and encourage breathing.  First aid spells, really, nothing too helpful, but it was all he had.  He was about to begin a third when the light in the red gem on his gauntlet faded.  He was out of motes.

            “That’s all I can do,” he said.  “Let’s get him away from the building.”  The heat from the fire was growing almost unbearable.

            “I got it,” Topaz said.  “Don’t exert yourself.”  He wanted to argue, but she was right — he was far too weak to do any carrying.  After a moment Escher came over and helped as well, and they gently moved Restful Sleep further away from the burning building.  “Are you okay?”

            “I think so?” Lofty said.  “Starlight Glimmer saved my life.  Starlight?”  He half expected her to be gone again, but she was right beside him.  “Thank you.”

            “Ponies shouldn’t kill ponies,” she said simply.  “But at least you made a little thing right.”

            “He’s going to be okay?” Lofty asked.  But Starlight was silent.  He decided to take that as a hopeful note.  “Escher, how are you?  Do you think you can go find and help Quiet?”

            “I…” Escher tensed to chase after the Knight Discordant, but she emerged from around the corner of the building, her hoofsteps slow and plodding and a grim look on her bloodstained face.

            “Lady Quiet!” Lofty called out.  “Come quickly!  Your husband’s alive!”

            “He…” Quiet’s eyes shot up, and with a surge of movement she sprinted over to them.

            “I did what first aid I could, but…” Lofty never got to finish.  Quiet gently pushed him and Topaz out of the way to crouch over her husband.  Her gauntlet glowed in the complex runes of a diagnosis spell.  Silently, Quiet looked over her husband as the spell took effect, then turned towards Lofty, her eyes full of tears as a wide smile split her muzzle.

            “Saints bless you!” she breathed, kissing him soundly on the cheek.  He winced in pain, and she jerked back.  “Sorry!”

            “Ow,” Lofty said.  “Besides, it was Topaz that pulled him from the building.”

            With the same beaming smile, Quiet embraced the blushing Topaz, kissing her on the cheek as well.  “Thank you. When I saw him fall, I was so sure…”

            “It was nothing,” Topaz glanced awkwardly at Lofty, who shrugged.

            “Tell me what I can do to repay you.”

            “Well, Lofty probably needs some more healing, so if you have more…”

            “Oh!  I can’t believe…” Quiet shook her head with embarrassment.  “Lofty, I’m so sorry!”

            “It’s nothing.” Lofty waved a hoof dismissively.  “But I’ll thank you for your healing.  I’m going to need to leave as soon as possible.”

            “Leave?  But you need to rest and recover!” There was something in Quiet’s voice that once again felt motherly to Lofty.  He shook his head.

           	“No, I can’t.  I don’t have time for rest.”  His heart pounded, and his gaze was drawn towards New Canterlot City, barely visible in the distance.

Quiet frowned. “What could you possibly need to do that couldn’t wait a few hours?”

“The Mystics have my son,” he grunted. “I’m going to get him back.”
> Chapter 38
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 38


Excerpt from “Friendship and Convergence: A Collection of Essays on Harmony” compiled, edited, and annotated by HRH Twilight Sparkle, PhD.  The quoted excerpt is from an essay titled “The Tenuous Reality of Choice” by the Princess herself.

            	In my youth, I became close friends with a very special group of ponies.  The names, deeds, and history of these five mares has been discussed, written about, and studied extensively, and such work needs no repetition here. 

            	Many decades ago, I made a study of the strange convergence of events that led to the six of us earning our cutie marks on the same day, indeed, as the result of the same inciting event.  At the time, I concluded that the event was destiny, that Harmony herself arranged events so that I and my friends would share a very special connection before we had even met each other.

            	I have since revised my original conclusions.  I continue to believe that Harmony did in fact have a hoof in our connection.  But that connection would have been impossible without the choices I made, and the choices my friends made.  I now believe it was a combination of both destiny itself (shaped by Harmony) and the choices we made that allowed my friends and I to accomplish what we did.

            	This assumption is supported by the data.  For the past two decades, I have identified no less than fifty-nine possible simultaneous cutie mark events, where multiple ponies receive their mark as the result of a single traceable event, much like Rainbow Dash’s Sonic Rainboom.  I followed the careers of many of these ponies.  Some of them became friends, creating bonds that lasted lifetimes and led to great benefit for the ponies around them.  Others never even met the ponies they were supposedly ‘destined’ to become friends with, often due to their own personal choices.

            	For example, what would have happened if Rainbow Dash had decided not to move to Ponyville alongside her friend Fluttershy?  What if Rarity had taken her first profits from Carousel Boutique and expanded earlier into Canterlot, even moving there?  What if Pinkie Pie had taken up the life of the wandering party planner, much like her eventual husband Cheese Sandwich in his early years?

            	All were possibilities.  The ponies in question considered all of these things, and ultimately chose a different path.  This led to their destiny as Elements of Harmony.

            	But this leads me to an uncomfortable question.  Who would have wielded the Elements if my friends had chosen differently?  I now believe that they filled those roles not because of the omnipotent will of an invisible, intangible force (I do believe that the force of Harmony, the intelligence and magic of it, is real, however) but by virtue of their choices.  And I am no exception.  Had it not been for my own decisions, and the decisions of others, my early life would have turned out much differently.

            	Take, for example, the history of Sunset Shimmer.  Few ponies will be familiar with that name, or her storied and checkered history.  But at one point, Celestia herself believed that Sunset Shimmer would fill the destiny that eventually fell to me.  It was Sunset’s personal choices that took her on a different path from what Celestia envisioned for her.

            	Shortly before Celestia and Luna shed their physical forms and departed to explore what lies beyond the Starlit Path, I spoke with Celestia about Sunset, and about Celestia’s expectations for her.  What she told me now aligns with my current beliefs about destiny.  Celestia believes that Harmony allowed her to shape what kinds of ponies would bear the Elements of Harmony, subject to those ponies choices, of course.  Her original intent was for Sunset to wield the Element of Magic, and, alongside the five mares that would eventually become my closest friends, free Luna from the influence of the Nightmare.  But Sunset chose differently, and my choices brought me into that role.

            	In the essays in this section, we will discuss in further detail the nexus of destiny, coincidence, and personal choice.  We will also read about the will of Harmony herself, an intangible force that moves pony society towards peace, prosperity, and greater friendship. 

A hoofwritten note, found shoved just behind this page in the edition of the book kept in the Imperial Library

            	I’m not sure I believe anything I wrote in that essay any longer.  Either that, or something is affecting Harmony in ways I don’t understand.

            	Reading what I wrote years ago about Sunset makes me miss my friend all the more.  I still write in the journal, at least one message a year, in hopes she’ll finally respond.  It’s been decades since she wrote something back.  Part of me hopes for the best case scenario, that she decided to start fresh, to sever all ties to her old life in order to create a completely blank slate for her new life in the human world.  I’m not naïve enough to believe it, but I hope.

Excerpt, torn from an enchanted journal retrieved from the smoldering ruins of the Castle of Friendship, circa 45 AF

Sunset, it’s been seventeen years since you contacted me.  I’ll never stop hoping.

Sunset, Happy Birthday!  I don’t know if you’re even reading these, but if you are, I hope you think fondly of me on occasion.

Sunset, by my calculation, it’s your twentieth Hearth’s warming in the human world.  I miss our talks.

Sunset, if I’m being a bother, just let me know and I’ll leave you alone.

HOLY SHIT TWILIGHT WHAT IS HAPPENING IT’S ONLY BEEN THREE DAYS SINCE I SAW YOU LAST!  I CAME HOME FROM A WEEKEND CAMPING TRIP AND THERE’S A HUNDRED MESSAGES IN THE JOURNAL!

 WHAT IS GOING ON?!?!

IT CAN’T HAVE REALLY BEEN TWENTY YEARS ON YOUR END, CAN...

The rest of the excerpt is burned.

1113 AF, Port Luminescence

            	“This is surreal,” Emberglow muttered to Rarity.  She kept glancing around, tugging at the hood of her cloak with one hoof, ensuring it was pulled low.  The gesture had nothing to do with the light drizzle coming from the sky.

            	“Because you’ve been here before?” Rarity asked.  “And stop fidgeting with that.  You’ll look like you’re trying to hide your face.”

            	“But I am,” Emberglow whispered, pulling at her hood instinctively.  There were few ponies or other creatures out in the weather, but it was hard not to be nervous. “There’s ponies here who will probably remember me.”

            	“Yes, darling, but you’re not supposed to look like you’re trying to hide your face,” Rarity sighed.  “A disguise is more about the acting than it is about the clothing.”

            	“Easy for you to say,” Emberglow shot back, glancing at Rarity.  The potion she’d taken made her look like an earth pony with black fur and a coral colored mane.

            	“Well, dear,” Rarity said, flipping her mane daintily, “I’m a — uhm.” She paused a little awkwardly. “Ahem. A you-know-what. I could hardly come here without one of those potions. And we barely have enough of those as it is.”

            	“Yes. I know.  Sorry.”  Emberglow was nervous and fidgety, and it was making her a bit irritable.

            	“Think nothing of it, dear.” Rarity waved a hoof, flicking off a splash of mud in the process.  “Unless, of course, you’re apologizing for this wretched mud.  Then you may continue.”

            	“They warned me. When I came here the first time, I mean.” Emberglow laughed.  “I think Bubblegum said the sea itself liked to flow up into the streets when it rained.”

            	“I believe it,” Rarity moaned, picking up her hooves primly as she walked.  “I don’t know how you can stand it.”

            	“I don’t notice, really,” Emberglow admitted, glancing down at her hooves.  Rarity shuddered.

            	“Let’s get out of this muck as soon as possible, then.  How many more blocks until the inn?”

            	“It’s in the town square.  Up ahead.” Emberglow pointed with one hoof, looking up.

            	What she saw filled her with a shock of dread.  The last time she’d been in Port Luminescence’s town square, she’d been overseeing a hanging.  The gallows ahead was empty, but it stood, lonely and tall in the mostly deserted square, a testament to the casual brutality she remembered from her last visit.

            	“Awfully macabre, isn’t it?” Rarity murmured solemnly.  Emberglow swallowed and nodded.  She knew all too well just how macabre Port Luminescence could be; she’d participated, after all.  “Goodness, is that a cage?”

            	Emberglow glanced where Rarity was looking.  Indeed, next to the gallows was a new structure, a high gibbet on which hung a cage.  There was a pony inside.

            	“How barbaric,” Rarity whispered.  The black fur of her disguise almost looked grey.

            	“I suppose,” Emberglow replied unsurely, thinking of the pillories back in New Canterlot City.  “But how did ponies in your time do public punishment?”

            	“We didn’t need to, darling,” Rarity said mournfully.

            	“Nopony committed crimes?” Emberglow asked.  They were growing closer to the gibbet.  This close, Emberglow could see the poor pony’s matted fur, stained with blood and mud.  A single guard, looking rather drenched, stood at the foot of the gibbet.

            	“There was crime sometimes,” Rarity admitted.  “But our justice system was about rehabilitation, not punishment.  There was no public humiliation.”

            	“I guess that’s another thing we’ve changed,” Emberglow said as they continued to draw closer to the unfortunate pony.  “C’mon, let’s go quickly.  The inn should be just past the gibbet.”

            	“I wish Heartwing hadn’t chosen someplace so close to such a gruesome sight.”

            	“I don’t think he knew,” Emberglow said.  “It’s—”

            	She gasped, freezing in place.  Her eyes widened as she glanced at the slumped pony in the gibbet.

            	“I know him,” she hissed, and Rarity glanced back, her expression worried.  “He used to be the governor here.”

            	There was no question why she hadn’t recognized Blingshine from a distance.  His once clean white fur was stained red and brown, and his wings were broken, with very few feathers left.  His jaw hung slack, and with a sickening twist in her stomach Emberglow realized most of his teeth, false golden ones or otherwise, had been removed from his mouth.  His eyes were glazed, but she could see them moving slightly, as well as his chest swelling with shallow breaths.

            	A wooden placard hung underneath the gibbet, inscribed with the word ‘treason’.  Emberglow kept her head down, trying not to stare at either the prisoner, the hard-eyed guard, or the sign as she hurried past.  Rarity followed suit.

            	“There.” Emberglow pointed at the building, an inn with a painted title over the door, the Two Anchors.  Emberglow reached out and pulled the door open quickly, shivering as she tried to ignore the gruesome sight behind them.  “Now I wish we’d stayed with the stallions.”

            	“Come in quickly, don’t let the wet in!” snapped a harsh voice from inside.  Emberglow let her eyes adjust to the slightly brighter light inside the inn, glancing over to see a haggard-looking middle aged mare mopping the polished wood floor and glancing distastefully at their muddy hooves.  There was a desk with a guestbook, and an open doorway that led deeper into the inn.  Emberglow could hear the sounds of the inn’s other customers in the bar beyond.  Rarity quickly pulled the door closed behind them, a little awkwardly with her hooves.

            	“Hello, uh, we’re—”

            	She never let Emberglow finish.  “Two bits for a night.  Meals and drinks are extra, and you’re responsible for any damage to your room.”  Her voice managed to be both bored and harsh at the same time.

            	“Yes, of course.” Rarity stepped in smoothly, a winning smile spreading across her face. “I think that would be more than fair.  I believe our travelling companions have already made arrangements?  There should be a reservation under the name Sassy Saddles.”

            	The mare eyed them up and down, skeptically, before nodding.  “This way.”  She leaned her mop up against a counter and trotted off without another glance behind them.  “Wipe your hooves.  If I have to mop extra because of you two, it will show up on your bill.”

            	She hadn’t needed to say it; Rarity had already been diligently cleaning her hooves on the rug, before finishing off by polishing them with a nearby cloth.

            	“I think that’s good enough,” Emberglow whispered to her after cleaning her own hooves, slightly amused by the almost obsessive attention to detail Rarity showed, scrubbing every inch of dirt off her hooves.

            	“It’s not about the bits, darling.  I’d rather not give that harridan the excuse to charge us extra.”

            	It brought a smile to Emberglow’s face as she followed after the innkeeper, though it did make her hyper aware of the dirt she might be trailing herself.  The innkeeper led them through the bar, where a few sailors nursed mugs of ale.  Nopony glanced up as they passed.

            	For a brief second, Emberglow was reminded of another tavern in Port Luminescence.  She remembered the mild buzz of alcohol, and the steady flow of the jazzy beat.  She remembered the warm sort of glow that came from the company.

            	She was rather glad that this wasn’t the same sort of bar.  She didn’t want to remember anything about that night.

            	“Emberglow?  Darling, are you okay? You stopped.”

            	“I’m fine,” Emberglow said, trotting to catch up to the innkeeper.

            	She led them up a flight of stairs to a hallway full of rooms.  Over one door, the number one was painted in chipped, fading paint.  The innkeeper pushed the door open and gestured inside, following the two ponies and closing the door carefully.

            	The room inside was very basic, with only a pair of beds and a small bathroom off to one side. There were no decorations.  Emberglow tried not to think about what the sleeping arrangements might be for the evening; the idea of very close physical proximity with Rarity was both terrifying and… wonderful.  

She blinked and tried to refocus on what they were doing; the innkeeper was looking at them strangely. Her expression was oddly predatory over the permanent sneer on her muzzle.  It was like she was sizing them up, weighing them with her beady gaze.

            	“So you two are smuggling out, eh?” she asked.  “Huh.  Don’t seem the type.”

            	“Perhaps not,” Rarity said smoothly.  “But we have our reasons.”

            	“Well, you two look far too healthy and happy.  If you’re just looking for a fresh start, a pair of pretty young things like yourselves could really make it big in the Port.  I know a few business stallions I could put you in touch with, for a small finders fee, of course.”  The innkeeper’s tone was uncomfortably salacious, and Emberglow found herself having to repress a shudder.

            	“No thank you,” Rarity said, and Emberglow could tell her politeness was straining.  “We have family waiting for us on the other side.”

            	“Still, it’s hard to make it in Jubilation.” The innkeeper’s voice was cajoling, and her eyes were flashing. “You might want to discuss it with the rest of your party.  There’s plenty of room in the business for stallions, as well.”

            	“I appreciate your offer, but we’ll pass,” Rarity said.  “But I was wondering if you could tell us what was going on with that dreadful business outside?”

            	“Oh, you mean Blingshine?” The innkeeper looked annoyed at the subject change, but there was an eagerness too, a hunger to gossip in her voice that made Emberglow feel a little sick.  “That dumb bastard.  He thought the Knights couldn’t do without him. Then few months back, some dumb Knight bimbo got herself chased out of town for fucking a griffon.  When the purple robes came down to investigate it, Blingshine kept being his usual slimy self.  He tried to hang on to things for a while, but I think they finally got tired of his games and threw him in that cage a couple of weeks ago.”

            	“He’s been there two weeks?” Emberglow recoiled in horror.  “How is he still alive?  Won’t they let him down?”

            	“Where do you think you are, mare?” the innkeeper snorted.  “He’s gonna be there until he’s rotted.  A reminder to everybody who’s really in charge here, no matter which pirate is currently sitting in the governor’s mansion.  They just give him a cracker or a moldy heel of bread every other day, to keep dragging things out as long as possible.  He’ll still be there, hanging on, for at least another month or so.”  She gave a cruel cackle.  “Serves him right.  It’s good to see the pompous ass brought down to our level, isn’t it?”

            	“I’m sure you’re right,” Rarity said carefully.  “Now, we’ve had a long journey, and we’d like to prepare for our ship tomorrow.  Is there any other instructions we need to know?”

            	“Yeah.  You should avoid going out into the city and just wait here for the captain.  Then again, I’m not the boss of you,” the mare shrugged, looking annoyed to be deterred from her gossiping.  “Sleep well.  Dinner’s not included in your board fee.”  The cranky mare opened the door and stepped out of the room.  Rarity watched her go, before closing the door herself.  She and Emberglow shared a look, and Rarity sighed.

            	“You’re remarkably patient,” Emberglow noted, and Rarity snorted.  “No, I mean it.  The way she went on about Blingshine made my stomach turn.”

            	“Oh I know, darling.  It disgusted me as well.”  Rarity walked over to the window, glancing outside with a shudder.  “Who was that stallion, and what could he have done to deserve such torture?”

            	“He used to be governor.”  Emberglow remembered her first meeting with him, in the governor’s mansion.  She remembered his flirtatious and grandiose manner, the way his simpering eye-candy had draped themselves about him.  She remembered the loathing she’d felt.  “There was a time when I said he might have deserved something like this.  He tortured others himself.”

            	“But you feel differently now?” Rarity looked at her thoughtfully.  Emberglow shrugged, uncomfortable.  She wasn’t sure how she felt.

Rarity stepped away from the window and lifted her saddlebags off her back and onto one of the two beds.  Once again, the motion was very slightly awkward; it was clear Rarity was much more used to employing her magic than her hooves.  Emberglow followed suit.  She couldn’t help herself; she had to slip open the bags just enough to check on her brand new robes, and even the journal Bubblegum had given her as a going away present.

            	“One great thing about having all these unicorns about is loads of enchanted stuff,” Bubblegum had told her.  “This cost me months of salary, but it’ll let us talk.  I don’t want Spark’s Goddess-mother to be out of touch.”

            	“That’s the journal Bubblegum gave you?” Rarity asked as Emberglow pulled it out.  Emberglow nodded.  “Twilight had one of those, made by Celestia herself.  It linked her with Sunset Shimmer.”

            	Emberglow waited for the familiar shiver of fear and disgust that often accompanied mention of the great heretic’s name, but none came.  Instead, there was nothing but mild curiosity.

            	“Who was she, really?” Emberglow asked.

            	Rarity climbed up on the bed, curling up gracefully.  “Sunset?  I never met her myself.  I know she was close friends with Princess Twilight.  She was Princess Celestia’s student before Twilight was, but they had some sort of falling out that never was explained to me. Afterwards, she ran away through a magical portal to another world.”

            	“Another…” Emberglow eyed Rarity.  “You’re teasing me.”

            	“I’m not!” Rarity said with mock indignation, holding a hoof to her chest.  “I know very little about it, as the others and I were never allowed through.  All I do know is that it was a dimension very different from ours. Some of the creatures there shared some similarities with those in ours, though.  For example, there was another Rarity on the other side, and another Twilight.  Each of our friends had a mirror individual on the other side, in fact.”

            	“This sounds like fiction,” Emberglow shook her head.  Rarity perked up, ready to protest, but Emberglow held up a hoof to forestall her.  “I’m not saying it’s not true.  It’s just strange.”

            	“The truth is sometimes stranger than fiction,” Rarity admitted with a sigh.  “For example, my own present circumstances.”  Her voice dropped, heavy with melancholy.  Emberglow hesitated for a brief second before sitting down on the bed next to Rarity, wrapping a wing around her.  Rarity leaned into the comforting embrace.  Emberglow’s heart beat faster.  “Thank you, Emberglow.”

            	“N-no problem,” she stammered.  “Um, we can talk about something else if this is making you sad.  Like…”

            	The journal they’d been discussing suddenly flashed, it’s pages vibrating briefly.  Rarity perked up.

            	“That was the sound Twilight’s made whenever she got a message from Sunset.  Take a look, I think Bubblegum’s trying to contact you.”

            	Emberglow flipped the journal open to the first page, smiling at the clumsy script she found inside.  I know you’ve only been gone a day, but I had to make sure it works.  Also THE DOCTOR SAYS SPARK CAN GET OFF THE VENTILATOR TODAY!!!!!!!!!!

            	The excessive use of exclamation points felt totally in character, making Emberglow laugh as she slid the journal over to Rarity.

            	“Oh, that’s such good news for Bubblegum.  I know she’s been really looking forward to taking little Emberspark home.  Her husbands must be thrilled, as well.”

            	Thinking of Bubblegum, however, brought a stark and visceral reminder to Emberglow.  It was only a few blocks from here, after all, that they’d fought.  Embreglow remembered her hoof trembling as she signed Bubblegum’s death warrant, alongside Delver and Turquoise.

            	“Emberglow?  Were you going to respond to Bubblegum?”  Rarity’s voice was full of concern.  Emberglow stared at the window, suddenly very aware of what lay beyond it.  Her past in this town was like mud clinging to her fur; cold, slimy, and tenacious.

            	“I… you can respond, if you like,” Emberglow said stiffly as she stood.  She didn’t look back at Rarity. “I…”

            	Rarity continued to protest behind her, but Emberglow couldn’t make out the words.  She walked over to a small hallway, leading to the inn room’s tiny bathroom, glancing inside.  There was a tiny bathtub, a toilet, and a mirror.  “I’m going to take a bath.”  She closed the door behind her.  Thankfully, Rarity didn’t press her any further.

            	Emberglow tried her best not to think too hard as she ran the hot water into the bathtub.  She realized she’d forgotten to bring any of her toiletries in with her, but that didn’t matter.  What did matter was that she suddenly needed to be clean.  There were flecks of dried dirt on her hooves and in her fur, and she needed to get it out.  She stepped into the tub, long before it was even full, letting her hooves soak.

            	Emberglow lost track of time as she scrubbed at her hooves.  She remembered the mud, how it had felt underneath her hooves on that day, too.  On the day eight pirates had died, and she’d watched.  And now the stallion that had been preening and prancing about with pride, pleased at the horrors he’d inflicted on the poor prisoners before he took their lives, was being tortured himself.

            	She wanted to feel good about it.  Like there was some sort of divine retribution involved, a consequence for his own nightmarish actions.  But she couldn’t.  She just felt sorry for him.

            	There was a knock on the door.  It was loud and insistent.

            	“Emberglow?”  It was Terminus’ voice.  “Are you okay?”

            	“I’m fine,” Emberglow glanced down at her hooves, now wrinkly from spending too much time in the tub.  “I’ll be out in a minute.”

            	She’d been there long enough for the water to grow tepid.  Unfortunately, she still wanted to finish her bath as much as possible, so she held her breath and ducked under the water, wetting her mane.  She did the best she could without shampoo, and crawled out of the tub, snatching up one of the towels that hung in the bathroom.  At least the stingy innkeeper had provided those.

            	“Could somepony hand me some fresh clothing?” she called out to the closed door, her face heating up when she realized she’d retreated into the bathroom without any sort of preparation.  “I forgot to bring some in with me.”

            	The door opened a crack, and a white hoof squeezed through the opening, holding a fluffy looking bathrobe.  She accepted it gratefully, trying not to think too hard about Rarity’s proximity, or the fact that she was unclad.  She quickly wrapped the robe around herself and dried her mane with the towel before reluctantly exiting the bathroom.

            	Outside were three sets of very concerned eyes.  Heartwing and Terminus were both there, looking worried, and Rarity immediately wrapped her in her hooves.

            	“Are you doing okay, Emberglow?  And don’t you dare say you are.  I saw how you fled into the bathroom when we started talking about Bubblegum.”

            	“We’re here to talk, if you want,” Terminus offered.  Emberglow looked between the three of them, took a deep breath, and nodded slowly.

            	“Um, okay.  You all heard the story about Bubblegum, right?  How we didn’t really get along, and how our time together in this town led to us fighting, and her fleeing?”  Terminus nodded, and Rarity guided her over to the bed and gently pushed her down so she was sitting.  “That’s not the only awful thing I did while I was in this town.”

            	“Remember, we all get a clean slate when we join the Discordant,” Terminus said.  Heartwing was nodding, and Rarity began gently stroking her back.

            	“I know that,” Emberglow tried not to sound annoyed.  She really did. “It’s a nice thought, but it doesn’t make the guilt go away like magic.  Do either of you unicorns know a spell like that?”

            	The last came out as a bit of a snap, and the others flinched a little.  Rarity didn’t stop her gentle motions, however.

            	“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to jump at you,” Emberglow sighed.  “It’s just hard.”

            	“I know,” Terminus said.  He moved to sit next to Emberglow on the bed, so that she was surrounded by him and Rarity.  “We can talk about it, if you want.” He glanced at the other two.

            	“We’d be happy to give you some privacy,” Heartwing offered after a significant glance at Rarity.

            	“No!” Emberglow yelped.  Rarity was touching her.  She didn’t want that to stop.  “No,” she said more calmly, barely avoiding the urge to hide her face in her hooves after her outburst.  “I want to talk about it.  I want to tell you all about it.”  She took a deep breath, and began to speak.


*   *   *   *   *


            	“...so I can’t understand why I felt so upset when I saw him,” Emberglow concluded.  “He was torturing those pirates.  I’m sure that wasn’t his only sin, either.  He’s dishonest, cruel, and greedy.  And yet…”

            	“You’re a gentle soul, Emberglow,” Rarity whispered, squeezing her around the shoulders.  Emberglow reveled in the contact.  There was genuine warmth in the embrace, and she needed it right now.  “It’s obvious to anypony who has known you for more than a minute.”

            	“You’re not alone in your thoughts,” Heartwing mentioned.  He’d been standing alongside the window the entire time, while the other two sat on either side of Emberglow.  His gaze was on the pony outside in the gibbet, and his brow was furrowed with anger.  “It makes me furious to see what they’ve done with her country.”

            	Emberglow watched a shadow of something dark and angry pass over Terminus’ face, before fading after a second.  She made a mental note of it, determined to ask him about it later.

            	“I’m so sorry that you all get caught up in my breakdowns,” she said, holding up her hooves when all three ponies opened their mouths to protest.  “I promise, we can talk more about it later.  Maybe with you, Terminus.”  She’d ask him about whatever it was when they were alone.

            	“Well, it’s no surprise in the slightest you had such a reaction,” Rarity declared, giving Emberglow one last squeeze before standing.  “After observing such a horrific event, you had to come right back here, walking right past the very scene of the nightmare?  I’m impressed you held up as well as you did.”  

She took a moment to stretch after sitting so long listening to Emberglow recounting the story of the fight with Bubblegum and the later execution.  “Well, I hope you’ll all forgive me, but if it’s all the same to you I’ll take a turn in the bathtub myself.”  She glanced down at her hooves and shuddered.  Emberglow looked as well; they looked perfectly clean to her.

            	“We’ll fill Emberglow in on the plan for this morning,” Heartwing said.  Rarity nodded and retreated into the small bathroom, while Terminus stood and walked over to his own luggage, resting on the other bed.  “What are you doing?”

            	“Just checking to be sure my rifle made the trip okay,” Terminus said, far too casually.  Emberglow heard the deflection in his voice. 

            	“Um, Terminus?  I don’t suppose I could talk to you for a bit?” she asked, worried about the grim look on his face.  Heartwing looked at her sharply.  “We could go for a fly?  Maybe find a cloud?”

            	“If you’d like to,” he said carefully, not looking up from the disassembled rifle in its case.  “Heartwing, do you mind…”

            	“You want it cleaned, or assembled?” Heartwing asked, trotting over and pecking his coltfriend on the cheek.  Terminus smiled.

            	“Cleaned and assembled is fine.”

            	“How do you feel about polka dots?” Heartwing asked, and Terminus shoved him with a laugh.

            	“Just cleaned and assembled, you brat.  No additions, no weird colors.”

            	“Got it.  No permanent additions, and no long-lasting color changes.”  Heartwing smirked, and Terminus sighed.

            	“You’re irrepressible.”  He walked over to the window, sliding it open.  “Shall we?”

            	The two pegasi leapt out the window, flying off into the dimming evening light.  Emberglow spread her wings, shivering a bit as the cold air brushed through her fur and over her feathers.

            	“It won’t be hard to find a cloud,” Terminus mentioned.  The rain may have stopped, but the sky was still full of cover.  The two pegasi simply flew up, rising over the cloud line into the slightly brighter, slightly drier air above the cover.

            	“Thanks for coming out with me,” Emberglow said, coming to a landing on the soft, fluffy mass.  Terminus landed next to her.  “Every time I think I’ve got a handle on what’s happening to me, there’s another trigger and I fall apart again.”

            	“One day at a time,” Terminus repeated.  “So what do you want to talk about?”

            	“Um,” Emberglow rubbed one hoof against another, nervously.  She wanted to talk about him.  He was acting oddly, and something in her made her want to know why.  She remembered what the image of Applejack had said to her, in her vision.  That she would be her friends’ strength.  So far she’d done nothing but lean on them, but she didn’t know how to start.

            	“You want me to get you started?” Terminus asked, and Emberglow nodded.  “Okay.  Let’s talk about the execution.  You still feel guilt about that?”

            	“I think about it every once and a while,” Emberglow said.  “It’s not a constant thing any more.  Not like Gadget.”  She still dreamed about Gadget every night.  It was getting better, with Topaz still helping her in her dreams, but she wasn’t there yet.  “Mostly now I think about what could have been.”

            	“What do you mean?” Terminus said.

            	“Well, what if they hadn’t been captured and killed?  I took a filly’s father away from her.”  She tried to remember the young pirate unicorn, but her face was faded behind the chaos of memories from that day.  She remembered Zuberi’s face, and the faces of the other pirates before the hoods had gone on, though.  Those ones wouldn’t leave no matter how hard she tried.

            	“And that still haunts you?” Terminus asked.  Emberglow nodded, looking over at the setting sun.  It painted a splash of orange and coral across the tops of the rainclouds.

            	“Sometimes, yes.  Today worse than most days.”

            	“What if I told you that this is completely normal?” Terminus asked.  “That regrets are a normal part of life, and we can’t change what happened?”

            	“I get that regrets are a part of life,” Emberglow grunted, exasperated.  “But normal ponies regret things like bad relationships, or business mistakes, or questionable fashion choices.  Ponies like us regret taking lives.  How do you come back from that?”

            	“I don’t know if we can, Emberglow,” Terminus sighed, his gaze drifting down to the clouds below his hooves.  “But it’s a sign of character to keep moving forward anyways, trying always to be better than we were before.”

            	“I want to be,” Emberglow said.  She thought she was seeing her opening.  “I want to be the kind of mare that helps others, but something like today makes me feel so helpless.  Like I’m a slave to the stupid whims of my own trauma.  I want to help other people through their pain, rather than being ruled by my own.”

            	“That’s very admirable, Emberglow,” Terminus said.

            	“Like a stallion I see is clearly hurting about something.”  Emberglow felt a nervous tightening in her throat as she spoke, and watched Terminus as his eyes widened.  He glanced back down, in the direction of their inn room, then back at Emberglow in shock.  “If you’d like to talk about it, that is.”

            	“You—” he started, then chuckled.  “You tricked me up here so you could try to help me?”

            	“No,” Emberglow blushed.  “Our conversations are really helpful.  Sometimes they’re the only thing keeping me sane.  But I want to do some giving, and less taking, if I can.”

            	“Fair enough,” Terminus shook his head with thin amusement.  “Okay.  I don’t mind talking about it.”

            	“It’s something Heartwing said, isn’t it?” Emberglow asked.  “When he mentioned ‘her’.”  Terminus flinched, and Emberglow realized she’d guessed correctly.  “It’s not the first time I’ve seen you change the subject abruptly when Saint Fluttershy is mentioned.  I’ve been living with the two of you for at least a month, now.  It’s not exactly a topic you're comfortable with, are you?”

            	“I—” Terminus began quickly, before pausing, taking a deep breath.  “Yeah.  Yeah, you’re right.”  He glanced down at his clothing; a nondescript disguise the stallions both wore, making them look like common dockworkers.  “Is it bad that I even get angry when I’m putting on her colors whenever I don my robes or armor?”

            	“I don’t know,” Emberglow admitted.  “I don’t know why you don’t like her, so I can’t say.”

            	“I’m jealous,” Terminus whispered, the words coming out in a burst of bitterness.  “I’m jealous of her.  She’s perfect.  Utterly perfect in every way.  She never made mistakes, she never felt anger, or fury.  She never killed.  And now she’s dead!”  He was panting.  Emberglow watched as he closed his eyes, clutched his chest with one hoof, and took several calming breaths.  “And every time he talks about her, or says her name, or gets that far-off look in his eyes that means I know he’s thinking about her.”  He looked up at Emberglow, and his eyes were wet.  “How do I compete with that?”

            	“Have you talked to Heartwing about all this?” Emberglow asked.

            	Terminus shook his head.  “No.  How could I?  He worships her.  Everything he’s done since he woke up is for F—” he choked, unable to even say the name  “—is for her.  Besides, I—” he cut off again suddenly, shaking his head.

            	“What?” Emberglow shuffled closer to him on the cloud, and reached out, wrapping him in a comforting wing.  “You can tell me if you want.”

            	“Have I ever told you much about my history?” he asked, and Emberglow shook her head.  “It’s not very interesting.  I was a sponsored pony in the Ivy Seminary when I got caught in bed with a scion of the Canter family.  A stallion,” he admitted with a rueful smirk.  “I was twelve.  I thought it was true love.  It took all of five minutes for him to turn on me, to make the whole thing my fault.  He said I ‘seduced him’.  He got suspended for a few months, I got sent to a reeducation camp.” 

            	He brushed a hoof through his mane, his eyes distant.  “We got liberated by a raid team from the Discordant.  I almost got killed in the process.  When I made it to Angel’s Rest, Heartwing stood up and gave a speech to all of us.”  His face flushed red.  “Honestly, I remember very little of the speech.  He was saying something about ‘freedom’ and ‘truth’ and ‘righteousness’ and all I could focus on was how beautiful his eyes looked, alight with passion.”  He gave an embarrassed look at Emberglow.  “I fell hard.  But I was still a foal, really.

            	“As soon as I’d recovered from my ordeals in the camp, I threw myself into Knight training again.  There was an opportunity to train with some zebra allies, so I took it and went overseas.  I barely knew Heartwing, but even then I would have done anything to help him.  Anything at all to try to heal the wounded, pained look I saw in his eyes.  I wondered why nopony else seemed to notice how sad and lonely he was.  I know better now; everypony sees it, but nopony knows what to do about it.

            	“I spent ten years oversees, training with the best scouts and snipers among the zebra fighters.  I kept in touch with Heartwing; we exchanged letters constantly.  I kept asking him about himself, trying to get him to open up.  He was like—” he waved a hoof in the air  “—like a stone statue.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Yes, I realize the irony.  When he came to pick me up, I realized the sadness was still there.  The loneliness.  And over the course of a decade and hundreds of letters, a foalhood crush had become something very more real to me.  So I pretty much threw myself at him.”

            	“Just like that?” Emberglow couldn’t help but laugh at the bluntness.

            	“Just like that,” Terminus blushed.  “I wasn’t subtle.  We’d flirted a bit via letters, but I don’t know if he realized just how serious I was until I kissed him.”

            	“And the rest is history?” Emberglow prompted.

            	He shook his head.  “It wasn’t until after that he told me about his baggage.” Terminus sighed.  “I realized he’d been in love with her.  Devoted to her.  Almost obsessively.”  His laugh was bitter.  “He never lied about it.  He was always completely transparent.  I could have said no.  I could have found a different stallion.  Somepony who would have been mine, and only mine.  But I had to pick the damaged, lonely, sad stallion, still in love with a mare who’s been dead for centuries.”

            	“He seems devoted to you,” Emberglow noted.

            	Terminus sighed with exasperation.  “Part of him is, I guess.  But I don’t think I’ve ever held his full heart, if that makes sense.”

            	“Sorry,” Emberglow admitted.  “I don’t know much about romance and love.  I’m still trying to get to the point where I let myself be okay with it all.”

            	“I understand that,” Terminus said.  “I’ve seen it a thousand times, after all.  Even felt it myself.  Those first few letters to Heartwing were really awkward.”  Finally he reached a wing over and embraced Emberglow in return.  “Look, I know this is all a lot.  And you’ve probably lost all faith in me as any sort of a therapist.  What kind of healthy stallion jumps headfirst into such an unhealthy relationship, after all?”

            	“Unhealthy?”

            	“By the time I practically jumped on him in Zebrica, I would have done anything for Heartwing.”  Terminus’ shoulders slumped.  “I’m smart enough to know when to identify codependency, Emberglow.  But I don’t care.  I know I may not have all of him, but I’ll take what I can get.” He scoffed.  “It’s a stupid cycle, really.  He says he’s not good enough for me, because he can’t give me all of his heart.  I say I’m not good enough for him, because I can’t ever be as good as her.”

            	“Would it help if I told you to stop comparing yourself to her?” Emberglow said softly.  She knew the answer before she even finished the question.

            	“Who am I, Emberglow?” Terminus shrugged.  “I’m a soldier.  A killer.  She was an angel.”

            	“You’re too hard on yourself,” Emberglow said firmly.  Terminus tried to speak, but Emberglow held a hoof to his lips. “No.  I’ve got something to say.  I know it won’t help to tell you to stop comparing yourself to a dead mare.  But Somepony needs to remind you how amazing you are.”  She let go of their embrace, pushing away so she could face him directly.  “You’re an amazing stallion.  You’ve helped tons of ponies adjust through their faith transitions.  Including Rarity and myself.  I haven’t met a single pony in Angel’s Rest that has a bad thing to say about you.  You’re compassionate and kind, and anypony you spend time with is better for it.”

            	“You didn’t mention the number of confirmed kills,” Terminus said bitterly.  “Heartwing deserves…”

            	“Heartwing loves you.  And someday he’ll get off his rump and give you all he has to offer.”  Emberglow shoved him gently with her hoof.  “And it’s not fair to compare yourself to a mare who lived in a time of peace.”  That wasn’t how the Book described the time of the Saints, but she was coming to realize just how wrong that all was.  “You’re a soldier.  It’s what you do, it’s what you’re good at.  But you use those talents to help heal the world.”

            	She cocked her head to the side.  “But you know all that, don’t you?”  She eyed him intently.  “It’s just a matter of taking your own medicine.”

            	“Of all the things I expected to talk about when you brought me out here, it wasn’t this,” he laughed.  “You’re right.  I do know all this.  I tell myself every time I have to pull the trigger.  That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though.”

            	“Somepony very wise and kind told me that regrets are a natural part of life,” Emberglow said slyly, and Terminus snorted with amusement.  “He also said that we can’t change the past.”

            	“I wonder who said that?” Terminus snarked.  He stepped close and hugged her again.  “Thanks, Emberglow.  I know I’ve told patients this before, but it’s really quite helpful to talk about this stuff out loud.”

            	“You know I’m going to insist on making you talk to me now, too.  So that we can help each other?”  Emberglow’s eyebrows raised, and Terminus nodded.

            	“I promise, Emberglow.  I’ll be good.”

            	“Good.  Thanks.”  She smiled at him.  “Is it weird that my own issues feel better when I’m talking with you?”

            	“I think that’s what they used to call ‘group therapy’,” Terminus laughed.  “I’m rather excited to meet this friend of yours, Topaz Glitter.  Maybe she’ll be able to sort out all of our issues.”

            	“We can hope.”  Emberglow wasn’t quite sure, but it was a nice thought.

            	By now, the sun had gone down completely, and the stars were starting to peek out.  Emberglow glanced up at the sky.  It seemed like a fitting conclusion to their conversation.

            	“We should go back,” she said, looking up as each light twinkled to life in the skies.  She made no move to fly back down, though.  “Before we go, though, I have to ask.  What did you plan on doing with your rifle?”

            	This brought a fresh cringe to Terminus’ face.

            	“I—” he sighed.  “—I’m a killer, Emberglow.  It’s what I’m good at.  The rifle is one of the only tools I have to try and heal the hurt in this world.  Sometime tonight, I’m going to take out my rifle, and perform a mercy.”

            	Blingshine.  He meant to kill Blingshine.  She sucked in a quick, horrified breath, staring at him with wide eyes.  A billion thoughts flooded her head, first of which was immediate rejection and disgust.  He was going to kill a prisoner, an unarmed innocent.

            	But he wasn’t innocent.  Not at all.  Blingshine had tortured others, didn’t he deserve some of his own treatment?

            	No.  Nopony deserved that.  But they couldn’t exactly free him.

            	She sat there, staring at Terminus as his face grew worried.

            	“Emberglow?  Emberglow, are you okay?”

            	“I—” she shook her head. She glanced down at the clouds that hid the ground below, where she knew a barely conscious stallion suffered in a cage.  “I’m okay.”  

She could stop him.  She could say something.  Persuade him not to take life.  

“We’re okay,” she said instead.  And she really hoped she meant it.  “C’mon, let’s go back.  Heartwing was going to fill me in on the plans.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	“The ship we’re taking is a merchant vessel, and is not allowed to take on passengers,” Heartwing explained once the two of them were back in the inn room.  Rarity had emerged from the bathroom, her wet mane tied up in a towel, wrapped in a similar bathrobe to Emberglow’s.  “Diarchy soldiers watch that sort of thing, so they have to sneak us onboard.  So we’re going to be hiding in shipping containers.”

            	“I’m sorry, darling, I must have misheard you.”  Rarity rubbed at one ear with a hoof.  “Did you just say we’re going to be hauled across the ocean like luggage?”

            	“Just to get out of the harbor,” Heartwing said.  “Then we can get out and move about the ship.”

            	“I still don’t like it,” Rarity complained.  “What if your smuggler captain is an unsavory sort?  How can we trust him?”

            	“Her, actually,” Heartwing clarified.  “She’s been working for us for decades now.  Thimblehoof has a son in the Discordant, and two grandkids who are in training. She’s one of the best for smuggling our ponies out of the Diarchy over to Zebrica.”

            	“I’ve ridden with her before, myself,” Terminus said.  “She’s trustworthy.”

            	“Still,” Rarity pursed her lips with distaste.  “I can’t say I like the idea of being tossed about in a crate.”

            	“If you like, I can decorate your crate,” Heartwing chimed in, his musical voice light and teasing.  “Perhaps install some curtains, or a nice fluffy carpet?  Maybe I can arrange to have a nice comfy chesterfield installed?”

            	“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are,” Rarity deadpanned, and Heartwing smirked.  “What would you do if I took you up on your offer?”

            	“For you, my lady,” he said dramatically, holding a hoof to his chest.  “I would find a way.”  It worked.  Rarity tried to hang on to her annoyed expression, but a giggle broke through, then a full laugh.

            	“That won’t be necessary, I suppose, if we will not be inside for long,” Rarity conceded.  “I can endure.”

            	“Did I hear correctly?” Heartwing comically rubbed at his ears with his hooves.  “Rarity herself, conceding to discomfort with barely a complaint?  I may need a fainting couch.”

            	“Are you going to tease me all evening, you rascal?” Rarity scowled.  Terminus was smirking as he watched the exchange, and even Emberglow had to hide her grin behind a hoof.  Rarity turned on the both of them.  “And you two are simply encouraging him!”

            	It was hard not to, Emberglow thought.  Seeing the two of them interacting like this, with Heartwing teasing, and Rarity firing back, was like an open window into the past.  She wondered if they’d bantered like this before.

            	It was nice, too.  She suddenly realized that she was no longer annoyed by Heartwing’s teasing demeanor.  Rather, she was coming to truly enjoy his occasional waves of silliness.

            	That joy ended rather abruptly when her eyes rested on the other bed.  Terminus’ rifle, fully assembled, rested on top.  Her breath caught in her throat when she remembered it would probably be used tonight.

            	“When?” she breathed, while Rarity and Heartwing traded loud barbs on the other end of the room.  Terminus followed her gaze.

            	“Are you sure you want to know?” Terminus asked, and Emberglow gulped and nodded.  “Probably very soon.  As soon as the sun’s down.  I’ll fly out of town, find some high vantage point.  Maybe even a cloud, but those are really rough to snipe from.”

            	“You’ll…” Emberglow breathed hard.  “You’ll be careful?”

            	“Nopony will connect it to us, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  His voice was grim.  “I’m good at what I do.”  The last was full of self-loathing.  Emberglow reached a wing around him.

            	“It’s okay.  You’re doing him a kindness,” she whispered.  She tried to believe it, but Terminus stiffened and shrank away from her wing.

            	“Thanks, Emberglow,” he said, his voice blank and dead.  “I’ll try to remember that.”  He stepped away from her and walked over to the bed where his rifle rested.  As soon as he reached out with his hoof, Rarity and Heartwing stopped their lighthearted bickering and looked at him.

            	“Now?” Heartwing asked, while Rarity glanced at them with confusion.

            	“Yeah.  Time to get it over with,” he rasped.  “Can you...” he paused, and took a long breath.  “Can you cast some spells?”

            	“Of course.”  Heartwing stepped over and laid a comforting hoof on Terminus’ shoulder.

            	“You’re not mad?”

            	“No,” Heartwing shook his head.  “I know you have to do it.”

            	“But… I’m endangering…”

            	“Hush.”  Heartwing placed a hoof over Terminus’ mouth.  “You’re doing a kindness.”  It was the same thing Emberglow had said.  “What spells did you want?”

            	“Standard stealth array.  Silent movement, optical camouflage.”

            	“Sure.  Rarity, would you make sure the curtains are closed?”  Rarity shot him a puzzled look, but moved over to pull the curtains over the window tight, leaving no crack.

            	As soon as it was done, Heartwing’s horn lit with yellow light, and Emberglow watched with awe as a golden glow surrounded Terminus.  She was familiar with all  the spells he was casting, but had only ever seen them cast via rune gauntlet before. 

            	“Excuse me, gentlestallions, I’d really like to—” Rarity began, but both stallions were ignoring her.  Emberglow held up a hoof to silence her.

            	“Good luck,” Heartwing said, wrapping his hooves around Terminus and squeezing him tightly.  Terminus closed his eyes and returned the embrace.

            	“Don’t wait up for me,” Terminus said as he picked up his rifle.  He opened the curtains and slid the window open, his wings spread to leap.  He gave one last melancholy look into the inn room before launching himself out the window.

            	“Would somepony please tell me what is going on?!” Rarity stamped a hoof with indignation.  Heartwing and Emberglow shared a look.

            	“Terminus is going to right a wrong,” Heartwing said vaguely.  Rarity’s face scrunched up in displeasure.

            	“He’s going to kill that poor suffering pony in the plaza,” Emberglow whispered, and Rarity gasped.

            	“But… kill?  He’s going to…”

            	“He wouldn’t even be considering it if there were another option.”  Heartwing didn’t look away from the open window.  “Please understand.”

            	He was talking to both of them, Emberglow realized.  There was a pleading in his voice.  He needed them to understand, to forgive him for supporting this.  To forgive Terminus.

            	Rarity gaped, looking back and forth between the two of them.  A dozen emotions passed over her expressive eyes, and Emberglow stepped over, holding out a hoof to offer a comforting hug.

Rarity’s sharp, horror-filled gaze slid over all of them, before she turned with a whimper and fled into the bathroom.  The door slammed shut, and Emberglow lowered her hoof.

She looked at Heartwing, who wouldn’t meet her eye.  Instead, he stood, still as a statue, by the window, looking out into the night.  Emberglow steeled herself and walked over to the bathroom door.  She could hear Rarity weeping and coughing inside.

“Rarity?” she began, hesitating as she raised her hoof to knock.  The toilet flushed suddenly, and Emberglow's concern rose.  “Are you…”

The door opened suddenly, and Rarity shot out of the bathroom.  Her eyes were ablaze with passion.

“You’re just going to allow this?” Her voice was a low hiss, desperate and furious.  “Just stand aside and let him murder a pony?”

Emberglow opened her mouth.  A thousand responses danced on the tip of her tongue; arguments, justifications, rationalizations…  all fell silent in the wake of Rarity’s fury.  For a moment, she saw judgement there, and her anger bubbled out.

“Okay,” Emberglow whispered back harshly.  “Okay.  You don’t like it?  What would you rather us do?  Leave him to rot?” Rarity cringed, and Emberglow pressed forward.  “Or maybe we stage some sort of rescue?  Get the murdering, torturing bastard out of his cage and bring him with us?”  It was a struggle to keep her voice down.  “Tell me what will make you happy, Rarity, and we’ll do that!”

They stared at each other for a few silent moments, Rarity’s eyes brimming with tears.  Emberglow took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down.

“I hate it too, Rarity.  I do.”  Emberglow blinked, feeling her own helpless tears.  “But you can’t tell me leaving that wretched pony behind, and doing nothing, wouldn’t eat at you.  I know it would eat at me.  And I saw what he was capable of.” 

She sighed, pointing her hoof back down the hallway to where Heartwing waited by the window.  “Heartwing needs you to forgive Terminus for this.”  She wasn’t exactly sure why she said it, but it felt right.  “I do too.”

Rarity blinked, looking shocked.  “Forgive… he wants me?  Why?”

“Because he respects you?” Emberglow guessed.  When she saw the look of surprise on Rarity’s face, she thought she’d guessed right.  “It would hurt him if you hated Terminus for this.”

“I couldn’t hate—” Rarity shook her head frantically.  “Not Terminus.  He’s such a sweetheart.”  She seemed to not be realizing what she was saying.  “Oh, Celestia… is there really no other option?”

Her eyes seemed to beg for comfort, so Emberglow shook her head and reached out, slowly enough so that Rarity could back away if she wanted.  Gently she wrapped her hooves around the other mare, pulling her into a hug.  She could feel Rarity shaking with her sobs.

“C’mon.  Let’s go sit down.”  She carefully led Rarity back into the room, guiding her to the bed where they both sat down together.  Heartwing turned his gaze from the window to give them both a hopeful look.	

            	“Every time,” Rarity whispered.  “Every time I think I’m getting a handle on just how cruel, just how hard, this new world has become, it reminds me all over again.”  She leaned into Emberglow’s embrace.

            	“This is why you’re leading this mission, Rarity,” Heartwing said.  “We need ponies who remember how things used to be to lead.  It’s the only way for the world to heal.”

            	“I mean,” Rarity continued, sniffling, “what sort of world is it, if this sort of thing is a… a kindness?”

            	There was a brief flash of light, coming from just under the shirt Heartwing wore.  The three of them looked at each other, startled.

            	“Is that…”

            	“Fluttershy’s Element,” Heartwing’s eyes were wide, and he fished the small pouch that he kept hanging around his neck.

            	“It’s for Terminus, isn’t it?” Emberglow guessed.  Heartwing nodded, his eyes wondering.

            	“To think, he would earn it with an act of violence.” Rarity shook her head, shuddering and wiping her eyes with one hoof.

            	“Perhaps violence, but also an act of mercy.” Heartwing nodded.  He didn’t sound surprised, just mournful.  “One that never should have been necessary.”

            	They lapsed into silence, waiting in the leaden stillness of the evening for Terminus to return.  Nopony even suggested they follow Terminus’ instructions to not wait up for him.  Emberglow strained to listen in the silence, wondering if she would hear the fatal gunshot.

            	“I… suspected something like this.” Heartwing pulled the Element of Kindness out of the pouch, lifting it gently with his magic.  All three ponies stared at it, entranced by the gem held gently in the golden glow.  “Ever since he threw himself into making sure the new arrivals to our cause had as gentle a transition as possible.  I tried to broach the subject with Terminus.  He wouldn’t even touch the gem.  Didn’t even want to look at it.”

            	“Can you blame him?” Rarity asked.  Heartwing shook his head.  “The poor dear feels as if he’s trapped in Fluttershy’s shadow.  If he were to bear her Element, too…” she trailed off.

            	“Would he refuse?” Emberglow wondered, and the other two stared at her in shock.  “W-well, when I spoke with Applejack, she said I had a choice.  That I could refuse if I wished.”

            	“Did you even consider it?” Heartwing’s smile was wan.  Emberglow shook her head.  “I doubt Terminus would either.”  He paused, looking at the medallion with an unreadable look.  “I would spare him this if I could.”   

            	“But it will be his choice,” Emberglow affirmed. 

            	“What if he says no?” Rarity asked.  Nopony had an answer for that.  Emberglow stepped away from Rarity and moved over to the window.  She wanted to pull back the curtain, to look down at the slumped figure in the gibbet.  But she was worried opening the window would draw the attention of the guard stationed down below, so she stood and listened.

            	Emberglow never heard the shot.  She never heard the impact.  The silence dragged on until  there was a tap on the window.  Emberglow pulled back the curtain to let Terminus inside.

            	“I thought I told you all not to wait up for me,” he muttered, placing his rifle on the bed.  He glanced around the room, which was now filled with a soft pink light from the Element.  “What…”

            	“Terminus,” Heartwing whispered.  The soft voice filled the room, and Emberglow could hear a dozen emotions in the word.  Sympathy.  Love.  Regret.  Pride.  The Element floated on a golden aura towards Terminus.

            	“Heartwing, I thought we resolved this ages ago,” Terminus said dismissively, glancing away.

            	“Oh?  Then why is it glowing?”

            	“Maybe you, or Rarity…”

            	“I think not, Terminus,” Heartwing insisted softly.  Terminus was shaking, eyes spilling over with tears.

            	“I’m not… it can’t be for me.  Not me.  I’m a killer.”

            	“If it’s not for you, reach out your hoof and touch it, Terminus,” Rarity urged.  The pendant hovered in front of him.  Emberglow stared, entranced by the scene before her.  “If you’re so sure Heartwing is wrong, prove it.” Her voice was strong and confident.

            	“I’m afraid,” Terminus whimpered.  “What if… what if it is me?”

            	“Then you’ll make the finest Element of Kindness that ever lived,” Rarity declared, her eyes blazing.  “And you’ll help to save the world.  To create a place where nopony will ever again have to…” she trailed off, glancing at the rifle on the bed.

            	“I…” Terminus clenched his eyes shut, tears leaking out, before finally reaching out and seizing the amulet with one hoof.
> Interlude: What Terminus Saw
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: What Terminus Saw


            	“No,” Terminus moaned as soon as he saw the starry path.  As soon as he saw the images of his life, just like Emberglow had described.  As soon as he saw her.  Tears filled his eyes, and he turned his back on the butter yellow mare with the pink mane.  “No!”

            	“You knew this was coming,” she said gently.  Her voice was perfect.  Beautiful.  Soft and sweet and kind.  It made his fur crawl.

            	“Please don’t,” he whispered.  He felt a hoof on his shoulder, and it felt both solid and ethereal at the same time.  He tried to ignore the images that floated about him.  Images of his empathy.  His understanding.  There was the time in the reeducation camp, where he went hungry so he could share some food with the sick stallion in the bunk next to his.  There was the time he helped a young mare and stallion grieve after he was unable to save their parents from an unjust execution. 

            	Writing the five rules.  Teaching them to dozens of ponies who were stumbling their way blindly into a new life. 

            	There were images of all the times he’d stood up to Heartwing, trying to convince Heartwing to relax, to not take so much on himself, to slow down.  It was all just pain and hurt and broken, useless effort.  Heartwing would never change.  He would never forgive himself.  He would never fully belong to Terminus.

“I hate you,” he whispered to the mare behind him.

“I know,” she said gently, and he felt her hooves circle around him in a warm embrace.  Terminus was shaking, he realized.  Quivering with body-wracking sobs.  He couldn’t breathe.  The fur on his face was matting with the tears that streamed from his eyes.

“I hate you,” he hissed, though he knew, somehow, that she knew it was a lie.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and he jerked out of her hooves, spinning on her with fury.

“Don’t you dare,” he rasped.  “You’re too perfect.  How can you be so perfect that I can’t even hate you properly?  Don’t you dare apologize for something that’s not even your fault!”

“But you’re upset,” she said.  “I-I know it can sometimes be hard to…”

“Stop.  Just stop, please.”  He was weeping.  Shaking and sobbing and completely falling apart.  Slowly the mare embraced him again, and this time he didn’t jerk away.  He cried, his tears soaking her mane.

“I’m sorry,” she said again.  “He’s a fool to not see what he has in front of him.  You know why I chose you?”

“No,” he whispered.

“Because you’re worthy,” she whispered back.  He shuddered, and she squeezed him tighter.  “You always put others before yourself.  Especially your beloved.”

“He was yours first,” Terminus gasped.

“But he’s yours now.”  She put her hooves on his shoulders, pushing him back so her teal eyes could gaze into his pink ones.  “You need to stop living in my shadow, Terminus Flash.”

“This is supposed to make that easier?” he screamed, his voice tinged with panic.

“No.  It will make it harder,” she admitted.  “But you were never one to shy away from hard things, were you?”

“I…”

“What about when you decided you wouldn’t let them beat you, change the pony you were, back in that camp?”

“But…”

“Or all the time you spend with every single new pony that washes up in Angel’s Rest?”

“Of course, I…”

“Or what you did when you decided Heartwing would be yours to hold, yours to love?”

“… I made it happen,” he breathed.

“Because of all the ponies out there,” she said.  “You are the only real choice for this.  You’re going to be amazing, Terminus Flash.  You’re going to be remembered for centuries, and you’re going to surpass my legacy.  Because it’s the pony you are, Terminus.  I am so proud of you.”

“I’ll take care of him.  I promise.”

“I know you will, Terminus,” she said, and her smile was so bright it could have drowned out the sun.  “It’s the pony you are.”


> Chapter 39
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 39


Written orders given to Inquisitor Salamander, Knights Mystic

We’ve discovered the leak in our ranks, and traced the informant to a spy hidden among the nobleponies of Canterlot.  He’s the one who leaked Sir Steadfast’s location to the heretic Emberglow.

Your target is crafty and resourceful.  Take him alive if possible, but it is not necessary.  All servants at the house may be considered complicit in his and his grandson’s heresy.

Spare the foal.  He is the family’s legal heir, and it would be tragic to lose the last known son of the Apple bloodline.  He is to be given to his aunt, Graceful Tale and uncle, Jackpot.  They are both in custody and currently appear innocent in all this (though further interrogation is warranted).

Good luck, and the blessings of Saint Twilight go with you.

1113 AF, New Canterlot City

            	“I can’t believe I’m standing here,” the ‘pegasus’ stallion next to Lofty said, his eyes darting about the imposing manors they were trotting past.  Lofty rolled his eyes.

            	“Yes, I get it already,” Lofty teased.  “You’re a small town pony in the big city for the first time.  Now could you stop drawing attention to yourself by acting like such a tourist?”

            	“Sorry,” Escher muttered, fluttering his wings a little in embarrassment.  “I was never trained as an infiltrator.  That was always my uncle’s job.  I went straight into the guard.”

            	“It’s fine.  You won’t have to do much talking, I don’t think,” Lofty said.  “Hopefully, we’ll find this contact of yours without any trouble.”

            	Indeed, Lofty didn’t expect much trouble at all.  Nopony around was giving them a second thought.  They’d dressed in the casual clothing of day laborers — simple cotton trousers and shirts — and they walked down the street quickly, but not urgently.  Lofty walked down the street, thinking bland thoughts.

            	“Have you been to Portia Rock Park before?” Escher asked.

            	“Once.  Back when I was an investigator, I was working on a case with a serial bank fraudster.  We’d actually gotten a tip that she might be burying the bits she was skimming in bags in the park.  Turned out to be a neighborhood gossip’s overeager imagination, but that didn’t stop me from having to stake out the park for three nights straight.”  That had been the very last case he’d worked on before…

            	Before.

            	That was how he thought of things now.  How he thought of his old life, before True.  As if nothing else before that point really mattered as much. 

            	“Sounds boring.”

            	“It was, but at least I know the lay of the land.  I’ve been past the public chess sets a few times, so I know where we’re headed.”

            	Portia Rock Park was a park for the common ponies.  There were several throughout the city, but this was one of the cleaner spots.  It was near enough to the Valley Ward cathedral that the local confessors wanted it kept clean and nice, but was also situated in the middle of a large tenement for well-off day laborers and the servants of the wealthy, so less well-to-do ponies made use of the grounds regularly.  In the northeast corner there was a row of public chess tables, carved from stone, where somepony could bring a set of pieces and play a game in the clean, open air.  Often, retired ponies would sit around the area, chatting and waiting for opponents.

            	The two stallions made their way under a canopy of willow trees to the rows of stone tables.  Most of them were full, with mostly older stallions hunched over the stone slabs with looks of intense concentration on their faces.  Chess, after all, was serious business.  But the two of them did find one empty table, and sat across from each other.  Lofty fished a battered wooden case out of his saddlebags, and began unloading the pieces onto the table.

            	“Would you think less of me if I admitted I’ve never played chess?” Escher said, his eyes on the pieces as Lofty quickly put them into place. 

            	“They don’t play chess where you’re from?”

            	“My uncle always tried to get me to learn,” Escher said.  “I never had an interest.  Or a mind for tactics, for that matter.  I’ve always been more of a rank-and-file stallion.  I follow orders, let the smarter brains pick where to send me.”

            	“So you’re a pawn,” Lofty smirked, and Escher scowled.  “Don’t worry.” He placed a black pawn in its spot, right in front of Escher.  “They may look like the weakest and most common of pieces, but under the right circumstances, they can change into any other piece on the board.”

            	“Changing into more powerful pieces, huh?” Escher picked up the pawn, eyeing it closely.  “Okay.  I don’t mind being a pawn, then, I guess.”  He put it down in the wrong spot, and Lofty sighed, sliding it back to the pawn row.

            	“I might as well teach you how to play while we wait,” Lofty offered.  He quickly set up the rest of the pieces, and began to explain each one, from the pawns, to the castles, the Knights, the Saints, and the Solar and Lunar Diarch.

            	“Wait, I thought the Diarchs were supposed to be equal?” Escher poked at his Lunar Diarch, fidgeting with it a litte.  “Why is the Lunar Diarch so powerful, and the Solar Diarch so weak?”

            	“She’s not really weak, she’s the most important piece.  If I trap your Solar Diarch, you lose.”

            	“You don’t have to capture her?”

            	“It doesn’t work like that,” Lofty shook his head.  He thought of his own lessons in chess, one of the few memories he had of his father.

            	He’d been merely a foal, but he still remembered Moral Tale’s firm, authoritative voice, explaining the intricacies of the game to a foal still just learning to write.  Lofty didn’t know why he hadn’t given up on chess like he’d given up on most everything else his father had tried to teach him.

He opened his mouth to explain the metaphor, the philosophy.  Maybe he could parrot back some of the things his father had told him.  There’d been lessons there, buried ideas and suggestions about being a leader, about value and strategy and all sorts of subjects he’d ultimately disappointed his father about before Moral had died.  Then without a word on the subject, he closed his mouth again.

“You know what?  It’s just a game.  There’s not really any deep answers or metaphors here.  Just do your best, and try to learn by doing.  Don’t worry too much about the more complicated stuff.”  It felt cathartic to toss aside something that had been so important to his father.

            	They began playing a game while they waited.  Lofty didn’t go easy on Escher; his father had never gone easy on him, after all.  He’d never won a game against Moral, but he had gotten a little bit better each time.

            	With only a dozen moves, Lofty firmly controlled the center of the board, and had demolished most of Escher’s pawn line, and both of his Knights.  He even found himself becoming a little distracted, getting absorbed into his own thoughts. Then his ears twitched, and he glanced to the side as he heard the hoofsteps of an approaching stranger.

            	Lofty glanced up to see a middle-aged earth pony stallion, gazing at their game with mild interest.  He had light grey fur, and a dark amber mane.  Like them, he was dressed in unremarkable laborer’s wear.

            	“You’re getting pummeled, nephew,” he said softly.  Escher jerked, looking up at the newcomer.  The newcomer rolled his eyes and scowled at him.  “Really?  You got so distracted you didn’t hear me approach?”

            	“We don’t all have your training, uncle,” Escher murmured quietly.

            	“Obviously. Move. I’m going to finish your game.”

            	“Um, sir?” Lofty cut in.  “Now that you’re here, we really do need to…”

            	“You want my help, you get to indulge me, Knight.”

            	Lofty’s jaw snapped shut, and his eyes shot open.  He did his best not to glance around suspiciously, to see if anybody had overheard.  Instead he merely motioned to Escher’s spot.  Escher grunted and stood.

            	“Sure, I guess.”  Escher sounded confused.

            	“To be fair,” Lofty couldn’t help but feel a little off-balance by whatever Escher’s uncle was doing.  He needed to regain a bit of his own hoofing.  “I don’t know if there’s anything you can do at this point to salvage things.”

            	“I wasn’t doing that bad!” Escher moaned, and both Lofty and his uncle gave him bland looks.  “I… was?”

            	“You were doing very well for your first game,” Lofty allowed.  “Not everypony takes to chess on their first game.”

            	“We’ll see what I can do, then.” The uncle’s eyes darted across the board, taking in the position of each of the pieces.  “My move?”

            	Lofty’s words turned out to be prophetic, though not for lack of trying.  Escher’s uncle seemed to be focusing all of his attention on the game, but Lofty was sure he was being observed, weighed, and measured with every move.  The fur on the back of his neck prickled every time the older pony’s glance shot his way.  Meanwhile, Lofty’s once-steady strategic gains trickled to a halt as a much wiser opponent ground the game into a near standstill.

            	Lofty began to feel nervous as he lost both Knights, one of his castles, and both of his Saints.  He still felt like he could win, as Escher’s uncle no longer had his Lunar Diarch, but the older pony seemed to be able to render Lofty’s Diarch mostly useless through a series of clever double-attacks by his own castles.

            	Just when he was beginning to think that the momentum had shifted, and that he might not win, Escher’s uncle sat back with a sigh, and tipped over his Solar Diarch.

            	“I concede.”

            	“I… wha…?”

            	Lofty and Escher shared a glance.  Escher’s uncle shrugged.

            	“Chess is a game of strategy, boy.  Sometimes the best strategy is to retreat, to concede the field of battle in order to re-engage on a more favorable field.”  His eyes were intense, and Lofty eyed him with suspicion.  “Tell me, boy.  When was the last time you had a drink?”

            	The utter non-sequitur took him by surprise.  He opened and closed his mouth, before his thoughts caught up with him.  “A drink?  What are you talking about…?”

            	“You can call me Mahogany Wedge, if you must,” Escher’s uncle said with a humorless smile.  Lofty narrowed his eyes at ‘Mahogany’.  There was something here he wasn’t quite getting.  “And I won’t help you without an answer.”

            	“Uncle, what…”

            	“Quiet, Escher.”  Mahogany’s eyes darted to his nephew, and they were sharp.  “You’ve already decided to trust this stallion, this… this complete stranger with our most closely held secret.  You’ve literally undone centuries of work keeping certain things quiet.  The best you can do now is keep your damn fool mouth shut.”

            	“Excuse me?” Escher’s false face reddened with anger, lowering in a harsh whisper.  “I was following my orders, Uncle.  I’m not a spy.  I’m not an infiltrator.  I’m a guard.  And my job was to keep  Topaz safe.  I did the best I could.”

            	“Maybe.  But you never should have been down here in the first place.  What was she thinking…?” Mahogany trailed off, making an exasperated noise.  “Regardless.  You’re here now, you’ve spilled our darkest secret to a Knight, and I have to pick up the pieces.”

            	“Uncle, he’s not a…”

            	“Yeah, I know what he told you.”  Mahogany interrupted.  “But how do we…”

            	“What about this?” Lofty reached into his pocket and pulled out the Element of Generosity.  It was no longer in its setting; instead, Lofty had secured it on a cord, tied tightly like a necklace around the artifact.  Mahogany’s eyes widened.

            	“Put that away, you idiot!” he gasped.  Lofty complied, perhaps a bit slowly, while eyeing Mahogany.  “What are you thinking, bringing that out in the open like this?”

            	“I was thinking that this whole conversation is taking too long,” Lofty muttered.  “That I need to see my son.  And whatever it takes to convince you I’m not some Knight spy trying to infiltrate whatever information network the Princess has going on down here, I’ll try. Now, why were you asking about drinking?”

            	Mahogany was very silent for a long time, before exhaling sharply.  “I’ve looked into you a little.  We’ve even met, though you wouldn’t recognize me.  I thought you’d be clever enough to pick up on it from the fake name, but…” he shrugged.  “The last time we met, you were very drunk.  Stumbling down the street wailing after a mare that had just rejected you.”

            	“How did you…”  And suddenly it clicked.  Mahogany Wedge.  Suddenly the reaction he’d gotten when he’d tried to dig into Oak Chip’s arrest made a lot more sense.  “You were a spy?”

            	“Announce it loudly enough for the world to hear, why don’t you?” ‘Mahogany’ or ‘Oak’, or whatever his name was scowled.

            	Lofty had a billion questions.  His jaw worked soundlessly, before managing a single word.  “What?”

            	“Do you want me to explain the extent of the Empire’s spy network in New Canterlot City, or do you want to talk about your son?” he shot back.  Lofty slammed his mouth shut with a click of his teeth.

            	“My son, please.  Um.  What do I call you?”

            	“Mahogany will be fine for now.” He gave both Lofty and Escher a hard look.  “And I wasn’t just messing with you with the drunk question.  Are you going to be a problem, young stallion?”

            	“I don’t get drunk any longer,” Lofty said.  Alcohol had lost nearly all of its appeal after True had entered his life.  “But you’re asking about more than that, I assume.  You’re asking if I’m trustworthy?”  Mahogany was silent, so Lofty continued, taking a chance.  “But that doesn’t matter, does it?  Because you got orders to help me, didn’t you?”

            	It was a guess.  A bluff.  But Mahogany’s face darkened with anger, and Lofty had to resist smirking in victory.

            	“Unlike my naïve nephew, here, I don’t take orders from the Imperial Guard, or the ambassador.  My orders come from…”

            	“And what were your orders regarding Topaz?  Or Lofty?”  Escher cut in.

            	“We have no standing orders regarding Mister Lofty Tale specifically, per se,” Mahogany said, and Lofty snorted.  Even Escher smirked.  “Fine.  Against my recommendation, the intelligence service has requested that we assist Topaz and her… stallion… in this mission.”

“We?”

“Ponies might look, but they never see.” Mahogany’s cryptic words made him shiver, and Lofty had to resist the urge to look around for hidden changelings.  “You’ll have plenty of help getting your son to safety.”

            	“I appreciate it.”  Whatever the reasons, Lofty was happy for whatever help he could get.  There was no way he would allow his son to remain in Mystic custody, to be used as a hostage against him.  

            	“Speaking of which, where is the ambassador?  I thought she was coming.”

            	“Topaz is arranging for our transportation out of the city, once we’ve secured my son,” Lofty explained.  They’d argued, but in the end Lofty had prevailed. He didn’t want Topaz in any danger, and unfortunately, she didn’t have the training or enhancements he did.

            	“I was told there was another.  A strange mare.”

            	“She… is sometimes hard to locate.” Lofty said. 

Mahogany’s eyes narrowed angrily.  “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t understand myself,” Lofty shrugged.  “Sometimes she’s there.  Sometimes she’s not.  It would be best not to rely on her help, and her appearance might be problematic.”

“Oh?”

“She is nothing more than bones and magic, animated by powers and spells I don’t understand,” Lofty explained.  He’d been hoping for more than a blank stare from Mahogany, but the spy let nothing slip.  Lofty shrugged.  “I imagine she’ll reappear sometime.  For now, we need to focus on how we get my son to safety.”

“Very well.”  Mahogany nodded.  “Your son is at your family’s main estate, in the custody of your sister.  As soon as we were informed we would be assisting, we began canvassing the manor.”

“There is a Mystic presence on the grounds, as well as soldiers.  There were at least four Knights I could see.  In addition, there is one Jubilant, an overweight elderly earth pony, who spends most of his time in the manor.”  Lofty blinked at that.  It seemed Sir Tarpit had taken a personal interest in his family. That was going to be problematic — he didn’t want to have to fight the old stallion.  “It seems as if they’re waiting for you to come try to retrieve your son.”

“Do we know the state of our summer manor?  The one where I used to live?”

“Ransacked.  They killed your grandfather.  I have no idea what happened to your servants, but you may safely assume they’ve been killed, as well.”

Lofty closed his eyes and blew out a breath through gritted teeth.  He’d expected as much, but it still hurt to hear. He said a brief prayer for them in his mind before he opened his eyes again.

“Do you… does your intelligence network know how they found out Righteous was a spy?”

“No,” Mahogany shook his head.  “We don’t.  But there was probably an information leak somewhere, so you shouldn’t trust any of his old sources.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Lofty admitted.  “He never shared them with me.  I have no idea who it could have been.  As far as I’m concerned, Escher and Topaz are my only real contacts now.”

“I see.”

“So do we have a plan?” Lofty asked.

“You’re leaving it all up to me, then?” Mahogany muttered.  Lofty shrugged.

“You did make sure to just emphasize how much better you are at all of this than we are,” Escher chimed in, and Mahogany scowled.  “Well?  You can’t have it both ways.  Besides, I know you already have an idea.  You’ve always been brilliant, Uncle.”

“Hah! Trying to manipulate me by appealing to my ego?” Mahogany laughed.  “Very well.  Don’t try to be too clever, though.  There’s a reason you entered the guard, and not the Intelligence Service.  It’s a shame you got your father’s brain and my sister’s look.”

“I’d rather be loved by the mares than smart any day,” Escher joked back.

“Ahem.” Lofty cleared his throat pointedly.

“Okay, Knight.  We’ll get back to the plan.”  Mahogany moved all the pieces off the board and began arranging the pawns like a wall.  A building, Lofty realized.  The main Tale manor, in a rough approximation.  “Here’s the building.  I need to know as much about the interior as you can tell me.  I could get to the windows, but not inside.”

“Very well.  These are the front doors,” Lofty pointed to a pair of pawns on one side.  "The first room is a grand entry hall, complete with a grand staircase.”  He pointed out each room of the house, all the major windows and entrances, and Mahogany asked questions as he went.

“Where is the most likely location for them to keep your son?” Mahogany asked, when he finally seemed to have a good grasp of the layout.

“I’m sure my sister has set up a room for him already,” Lofty said.  “She was threatening to take him from me legally.  She probably wants to keep him close to her, as well.  If I had to guess, he’d be in a room near hers.”

“That makes sense,” Mahogany said.  “Now, from the window, I took a look inside one of the larger windows into the main floor.  I saw your sister and your son, playing with the Jubilant.  He seemed safe and healthy.  But I’m guessing the two of them are going to keep a very close eye on the foal.”

            	“You were close enough to look in the window and none of the Knights noticed you?” Lofty was incredulous.

            	“I didn’t exactly look like a pony, Knight.”  Mahogany scoffed at him.

            	“Ah. Right.”

            	“And that fact might come in handy when we’re trying to break into your manor.  But I need to know.  Are you okay with killing either the Knight Jubilant or your sister?”

Lofty’s eyes widened, his breath quickening.  Grace.  His sister.  Could he?  Would he?  If it was the only way to get True to safety?

“I’d rather not,” he whispered.  “I…”

But his protests felt weak.  Impotent.  He’d chosen to join the Knights Discordant.  He had killed Mystics already.  He’d betrayed his faith and his family, why stop at killing his sister?  What was stopping him?

“No,” he said finally.  “I won’t kill Grace.  Sir Tarpit, the Jubilant…” he hesitated.  “I don’t wish him harm.  But my son needs to be safe.”

“I just needed to know where you stood, is all,” Mahogany said.  “Okay.  Here’s what I think we should do.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	It was dark, and a silvery crescent moon shone down on the manor.  Lofty had not been back here in ages.  Ever since he had become a squire, in fact, as he’d never really bothered to visit once he had entered the Seminary.  There were too many memories he had no desire to revisit.

            	The grounds were just as he remembered them.  The walls around the complex were whitewashed stone, kept clean and clear of ivy like his father had always insisted.  Topiaries, sculpted into pony shapes, were maintained just as his mother had always liked.  Above the walls, he could see the balcony that spread over the front doors.  It was attached to his parent’s old master bedroom.  Grace still hadn’t moved into the master suite, it seemed; she had been keeping it empty since their parents had died.

            	As much as he didn’t get along with Grace, he completely understood.  The few times he’d been inside his parents’ suite had been unpleasant.  Lectures from his father.  ‘Lessons’ on etiquette and propriety from his mother.  Endless recitations of family honor, position, and status.

            	Sometimes he felt like he’d joined the Knighthood to honor his family name.  Other times he felt like he’d joined to escape it.  Now here he was, back home again.  Hopefully for the very last time.

            	He couldn’t see over the wall, but Mahogany had done a flyover as a sparrow, and assured him that the Mystics were in place, standing guard around the grounds.  There were four of them.  He’d asked if either Mahogany or Escher would be an even match for the Mystics.  Mahogany had simply laughed.

            	“I’m going to follow my orders.  I’m going to do my best to get your son out.  But no changelings are going to die for your cause tonight, Knight.”

            	It hadn’t been the most reassuring of conversations.  Lofty had even asked about the other hidden spies Mahogany kept referring to, but only got a blank look in return.

            	“Don’t let the old bug get to you,” Escher whispered beside him as the two of them watched the manor’s front gate.  “He’ll do his best to get your foal safe.  So will I.”

            	“Thank you,” Lofty said.  He was still trying hard to wrap his head around Escher’s uncle being Emberglow’s old friend.  Between that and all of the other insanity going on right now, Escher’s calm reassurances were just what he needed to hear.  “How long do you think we’ll have to wait?”

            	“Knowing my uncle?  Long enough to try our patience.”  Escher laughed, but Lofty was too nervous and hyped up to really laugh along with him.  He reached up idly to scratch at his face, only to have Escher shove his hoof away.

            	“Stop it.  You can’t touch the makeup, or else they’ll notice something.”

            	“Right.  Sorry.”  He sighed and tried to ignore the sensation of the fake blood on his face.

            	The wait didn’t end up being as long as Escher had suggested.  A few minutes later, Lofty saw himself walking boldly down the street, wearing a loose silk shirt and maroon trousers, complete with a suit coat over top.  It looked like the sort of thing his father had used to wear.  It was, in fact, very much like the outfit Lofty was wearing right now, though Lofty’s was slightly torn and smeared with something that looked a little like blood.

            	“That is uncanny,” Lofty breathed.  Escher nodded.

            	“I can imitate a form.  He can imitate how you walk, how you talk, how your face moves about when you smile or frown or laugh.  My uncle is one of the best out there.”

            	“How did he get caught, then?”

            	“I don’t know.”

            	They were too far away to overhear the conversation, but Lofty could see that Mahogany was playing his role perfectly.  He strolled casually up to the gate, even behaving as if he were annoyed that the gates were closed, rather than open.  He knocked on the gate and called inside, and two of the Mystics approached.  They slid the gate open and stepped out.  From their faces, it looked like they were trying to remain calm, and to keep him calm as well.

            	As they advanced, Mahogany backed away tentatively.  The Mystics beckoned inside, and Mahogany shook his head.  They became more adamant, looking upset and making demands.  Finally Mahogany turned as if to leave, and the Mystics dashed to secure him.  Mahogany darted off in a sprint, and the two Mystics followed in close pursuit.

            	“Half of them.  Well done, Mahogany,” Lofty whispered.  Now there were only two Knights on the grounds, plus Sir Tarpit, probably.

            	“We give him five minutes, then we go in, okay?” Escher said, and blazed with green fire.  In his place was now one of the two Knights who had just sprinted past them.

            	“Do you think your uncle can keep up the chase for long enough?” Lofty asked, helping Escher place the metal loop of the catch-pole they’d brought around his neck.  It was just like the ones they’d seen on the guards inside.  Lofty didn’t know where Mahogany had found one.

            	“My uncle is a legend.  I have no doubt.” Escher’s confidence was convincing.  “Besides, he has backup out there.  Other spies to take up the role of ‘Lofty’, and even help if needed.”

            	  They lapsed into silence, with Lofty slowly counting the seconds as time passed.  He kept looking at the manor, expecting to see some action, maybe a flurry of activity.  But the Knights left behind simply moved to cover the open gate and wait for their compatriots to return.

            	“They’re awfully confident that two of them are a match for you,” Escher said.

            	Lofty shrugged.  “They probably are.  I don’t think I would be able to stand against two real veterans.”

Escher fell silent once again, and Lofty returned to counting the time.  It was agony; he was twitching, his limbs begging for movement and action.  True was in that house.  Finally he reached three hundred seconds, and he stood, stretching limbs that were a little stiff from immobility.

            	“Okay, that’s five minutes.  Ready?” Lofty asked.  Escher nodded.  “Remember what Mahogany said.  Short answers, given with confidence.  You got this.”

            	“Y-yeah,” Escher said, only a little shakily.  “Come on, prisoner.  Move!”  He gave the order, shoving Lofty in front of him while keeping a tight grip on the pole.  Lofty lurched ahead, stumbling as if wounded.

            	The walk from their hiding place in the bushes across the street towards the front gate of the Tale manor felt like a billion miles.  Lofty was unsure of his acting ability, so he just tried to let his own anxiety and worry leak into his expression and demeanor.  Stumbling along the cobbled road, he tried to shoot glances towards the manor, to see what was coming.  The two Mystics left behind surged forward.

            	“Help!  I got him, but there were more!  It was an ambush!”  Escher called out, walking unsteadily as if he was wounded, himself.  The pony form he’d taken was bruised and a little battered.

            	“Terra Firma, what happened?  Where is Lady Orion?”  Lofty had to suppress a grin.  They’d managed to lure off the commander.  That made this at least a little easier.

            	“Wounded.  Badly.  She ordered me back here with the prisoner.  I tried to argue, but…”

            	“How far is she?”

            	“A half mile to the north,” Escher nodded vaguely.  “Up Indigo Street, then to the left a few blocks.”

            	The two Mystics glanced at each other.  “I’ll stay here, with Terra and the prisoner.  You go check on Lady Orion.”  The Mystic in question dashed off into the night, leaving Escher and Lofty alone with one Mystic.

            	“Let’s head inside and secure the prisoner.  I’ll look over your wounds,” the Mystic said, leading the way towards the estate’s rear door, the entrance to the kitchens.  Escher and Lofty followed behind.

            	The Tale family kitchen was clean, well-equipped, and dark.  An excessively large gas range sat on an island in the middle, with an array of pots, pans, and tools hanging from a rack above it.  It looked more like a restaurant kitchen than the kitchen for a manor house that kept only one noblepony, in addition to her array of servants.  The whole thing felt excessive, and reminded Lofty that there was a time when there had been many more Tales living in this home.

            	The kitchen was empty of servants at the moment, a fact Lofty was grateful for.  He didn’t know the servants that worked at the main manor very well, but he didn’t wish any of them to come to harm as collateral damage in whatever fight was about to take place.  As soon as they were inside, he turned to Escher and said, “Now.”

            	Escher quickly dropped the catch-pole, hitting the release that would widen the pole’s noose just enough for Lofty to escape.  As the Mystic in front of them turned to glance at them in surprise, Escher exploded with green fire, growing in size and bulk, shining scales and spines erupting around him in a new draconic form that towered above both ponies.  He wasn’t a huge dragon, but he was still twice the size of a pony.

            	It was a good distraction, and just enough time for Lofty to disentangle himself from the catch pole.  The Mystic stumbled away, mouth agape and eyes frozen on the dragon that suddenly filled the kitchen.  It allowed Lofty to seize a large cast iron skillet from where the various tools and pans hung above the gas range.  He held it tightly in one hoof, creeping alongside the Mystic while he backed away from the dragon. 

Escher’s mouth was leaking smoke, and each exhale flickered with inner fire.  He didn’t even have to do much, just loom over the Mystic who hurried to ready his spear.

“W-what?” he stammered as he backed away.  Lofty rushed forward, brandishing the cast iron skillet like a bludgeon.  The Mystic yelped and lurched to the side, his spear cutting through the air in an arc to deflect the impromptu weapon.  “What’s going on!?”

He tried to back away towards the dining room door, but Lofty cut him off, driving him back towards Escher.  Escher’s deadly claw swiped down from above, and the Mystic leaped away, tumbling right into Lofty in a heap of limbs and tangled weapons.  Lofty beat desperately at the Mystic with the skillet, but without proper room to swing he couldn’t do much.  It was the same with the Mystic, who couldn’t bring his spear to bear.

Both ponies tumbled about the kitchen, crashing into shelves and cupboards and filling the room with the cacophony of a hundred metal cooking tools crashing about the floor.  Lofty yelped in pain as they rolled over a spilled collection of knives, and he felt the warm rush of blood oozing down his side from a fresh new wave of injuries.

Suddenly something shoved him hard, and he spun away from his foe.  Lofty forced his hooves under him and lifted himself up.

Escher was standing on top of the Mystic with both foreclaws.  One pressed down on his barrel, the other was crushing into the pony’s neck.  The pony squirmed and panted, his eyes full of fury and fear.

“Who…” he gargled, as Escher pressed against his neck a little harder, before shooting a panicked glance at Lofty.

“What do we do?” he whispered, his voice low and desperate.  Lofty was about to open his mouth to answer.

“Ponies should not kill ponies,” came the response from the shadows of the kitchen.  Both Lofty and Escher jerked as Starlight stepped over, lowering her forehead to the struggling Knight.  She whispered something that neither one of them heard, and the Mystic’s eyes went wide with terror before sliding back as he slumped, twitching, to the floor.  Escher jerked away in shock.

The Mystic lay there, moaning and spasming, but his eyes were closed.  Lofty looked from Escher to Starlight.

“What… what did you do?” Lofty whispered.  “What happened?”

“Ponies should not kill ponies,” Starlight repeated sadly.

“Is he okay, then?” Lofty asked.  He’d been ready to kill the Knight, but it hadn’t been his first choice.

“Okay?  I don’t know.  He will wake up, though.”  Starlight said in an odd moment of clarity.

“Can you… watch him?  Make sure he doesn’t wake up and cause us any more problems?” Lofty asked.  Starlight said nothing, but stood over the prone form of the Knight.  Lofty took that as a yes.  “Um, okay.  Escher, we’ll… “

“Take his spear,” Escher reminded, and Lofty nodded.  They couldn’t rely on Starlight to solve all of their problems.  “Wait.  Let me look at your injuries.  Your real ones.”

Being reminded of his lacerations made them throb with pain.  He turned so that Escher could peer closely at the cuts.

“I’m no medic, but they don’t look deep.  But we can wash them, maybe find some bandage—”

“No time.  Everypony in the manor is probably awake after that racket.  Take the battery out of his gauntlet just in case, and we’ll go find my son.”

Once again green fire lit the dark kitchen, and Lofty was face-to-face with Escher’s usual pegasus form.  The two of them quickly removed the battery from the Mystic’s gauntlet.  The whole time, he could feel Starlight’s gaze on him, as if she were watching to make sure he didn’t harm the uncomfortably sleeping pony.

The two of them rushed out of the kitchen and into the dining room, silent and eerily empty.  Lofty remembered dinner time with his family; cold, stiff affairs where the four of them would sit around the long table and discuss Lofty’s education, and his progress with his tutors.  They would discuss Grace’s accomplishments, or her social opportunities.  The rush of memories almost brought him to a halt, but he forced himself onwards.  That was the Tale family of the past.  He was going to write the Tale family’s future, and it started with him getting his son to safety.

The dining room door led to the entry hall.  Lofty pushed the door open and stepped into the dimly lit, empty room beyond.  He never even saw the attack coming until he felt the bite of agony as a blade dug into his shoulder.

Lofty let out an involuntary cry, falling to the side as something heavy and metallic shoved against him.  In the surprise of the attack, he dropped his spear, the weapon clattering against the marble tile floor of the entry hall.  Hooves slammed into his barrel, and he felt the hot, heavy breath of his assailant right next to his face.

His attacker was heavy, and Lofty had a bad angle to try to shove him off.  But suddenly the weight slipped off of him, and Lofty heard a cry of pain.

“Who…” his attacker hissed.  Lofty recognized the voice.  It was Sir Tarpit.  Lofty had never seen him in armor before.  The enchanted pink plate glinted in the moonlight that floated in the window.  He clutched a single knife in one hoof.

“Sir, please,” Lofty struggled to his feet.  “Stand down.  You don’t have to do this.  You don’t have to fight me.”  He had nothing against Sir Tarpit.  The stallion could have done quite a bit to make Lofty’s life miserable, and he hadn’t.  He was kind, and funny.

“You forced this, Lofty.  Turning heretic.  Consorting with foul creatures and spies.”  Sir Tarpit’s voice was mournful.  Lofty could barely see his face in the dark entry hall.  It was flushed with exertion.  “I blame myself.  If I hadn’t encouraged you to continue your contact with that heathen crystal pony…”

“Where is my son, Sir Tarpit?” Lofty interrupted.  He had no time for this.  He began to circle to Sir Tarpit’s left.  Escher got the same idea and began to circle the other way.  Sir Tarpit backed away, clutching the knife that still dripped Lofty’s blood.

“I failed you, Lofty, but I’m going to keep your son safe.  And if that means I have to destroy you, I will.”  He brandished the knife shakily in front of him; it was a kitchen knife, not a real weapon.  Lofty watched it warily; Sir Tarpit may not have been in his prime any longer, but he was still a Knight.

But he was also standing between Lofty and True.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I have to get my son safe.  You know the Mystics will hurt him to get to me.”

An uncertain look crossed over Sir Tarpit’s face, and he hesitated.  It was enough for Escher to lunge at him from his right.

The changeling in pegasus form slammed shoulder first into Sir Tarpit’s side, grunting in pain as he hit the hard plate of Sir Tarpit’s armor.  It wasn’t enough to knock over the overweight Knight, but it did let Lofty lunge for the knife, striking Sir Tarpit’s hoof with it.

Sir Tarpit dropped his knife with a cry, but started moving almost instantly, his hoof floating through the air with a silvery glow.  He was surprisingly fast, and Lofty swiped with his hoof to try and disrupt the spell.

But Sir Tarpit was surprisingly quick, and the runes formed in the air.  Lofty and Escher were thrown back just as a shield of spherical pink force took shape, forcing them away.

For a moment, there was a strange pause in the fighting.  The three combatants stared at each other, panting slightly for breath in the lull.

“Whatever you’ve done, it’s not too late to come back from,” Sir Tarpit whispered.  “We can find one of the Mystics.  You can surrender to them.  You can repent, Lofty.  Be right with the Saints.”  He looked at Escher.  “Whoever you are as well, young stallion.  You can—”

“I’ve joined the Discordant,” Lofty interrupted.  “I’m leaving the city.  Probably forever.”  Sir Tarpit’s mouth gaped open.  “What do you think the Mystics are going to do to my family when I’m gone?  To my son?  Do you think he’ll be safe?  Healthy?”

“B-better than being in the thrall of a heretic,” Sir Tarpit hissed.  He raised his gauntlet to start casting again.

“Bring down the shield,” Lofty cried out, and both he and Escher threw themselves at the pink barrier, pounding with their hooves.  Sir Tarpit flinched back from the force, but kept casting; Lofty recognized a physical enhancement spell, something that would make Sir Tarpit even faster and stronger than he’d been before.  He was going to keep fighting.

“Lofty.  Go.  I will fight this one,” Escher said.

“But…”

“Find your son, then come back to help,” Escher said.  “We’ll escape together.  Quickly!”

He wanted to stay, to argue, but Escher was right.  They didn’t have time.  He sprinted back to where he had dropped his spear, reaching down to pick it up.  It wouldn’t budge.

Puzzled, he glanced up.  Starlight Glimmer was standing with one hoof on the spear.  He stared at her blank bone face, looking for some sort of emotion.  Her blue glowing eyes betrayed nothing, but she didn’t move when he tugged on the spear again.

“Yeah, I get it,” he muttered.  “Ponies should not kill ponies.  I need your help, then.  I want to hurt my sister even less than you do.”

He turned towards the stairs that would lead from the entrance hall to the second floor, where Grace and True should probably be.  He didn’t turn to look and see if Starlight was following him.  He wasn’t sure he wanted her to be or not.

The hallway was dark, but he could make out, in the dimness, a pair of House Tale guards in family livery.  They were a famous house, but not large, and so did not require many retainers.  Back when he had been a foal, he’d known all the guards by name.  These two, sitting outside the door to his sister’s room, were strangers.  From  their wide, fearful eyes glistening in the moonlight, he could tell they’d heard what was going on downstairs.

“I know what you’re both thinking,” he whispered as he approached.  The two guards crossed their spears protectively in front of his sister’s door.  “A big, scary heretic has come to invade your home.  To assault your boss.  Stand down.”

“W-we will not!” one of them stammered, the other nodding frantically.

"You will.” Lofty kept his voice calm and even.  “You will because I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you stop me from getting to my son.  I don’t mean Grace any harm.  I promise.”

“We’re going to keep the foal safe from you!” the guard insisted.  “We won’t let you pass!”

            	“I won’t be kept from my son.  I just got past four Knights Mystic and a Jubilant.  Do you really think you can stop me?”

            	“Y-you’re wounded!” the guard pointed out.  “We could…”

            	Lofty didn’t let him finish.  The muscles of his hindhooves coiled, and he sprang towards the guards, who barely had time to yelp and level their spears towards him.

            	It had been a rather long time since Lofty had fought a pony that wasn’t enhanced with Knighthood.  It was as if they were moving in slow motion.  As their spears descended, points flashing in the moonlight, he ducked low, slipping just underneath the pair of them and rushing inside their guard.  He picked the non-speaker first, shoving him hard up against the door with his shoulder.  The guard grunted in pain as he was slammed against the wood, his head impacting roughly with a loud bang.  His spear clattered to the floor.

            	Lofty danced back, just in time to dodge the next spear coming his way, this time from the guard who had been brave enough to speak.  Lofty could see, from this close up, just how young he was.

            	“Ever fought a Knight before, colt?” Lofty whispered as he kicked the fallen spear far away so nopony could pick it up.  He considered picking it up, but rejected the idea.  Ponies shouldn’t kill ponies, after all, and these two didn’t deserve that.

            	“Why?” the guard moaned.  “Why can’t you leave us alone?  Why can’t you just go?”

            	Silently he understood what the guard was thinking.  This was way above his pay grade. 

He was about to lunge again when the door the guards had been blocking opened inwards, and Grace’s head emerged from inside.

“Stand down, Shield Wall. I’ll handle my brother.”

“Ma’am?  But, ma’am… go inside and shut the door, I’ll…”

“Do as I ask.”  Grace stepped out of the room, holding a lantern in one hoof.  Lofty stepped back to allow her room.  The guard he’d knocked over scrambled to his hooves, and the two guards shared a glance, before taking up positions on either side of his sister.  She sighed, but didn’t say anything about this.

“What are you doing here, Lofty?” Grace asked after a pregnant silence.  “Why did you come?”

“You know why.”

“I’m not letting you take him,” Grace said.  “You’re a heretic now.  Fallen.  I’m not letting you corrupt my nephew.  He’s safe here.”

Had the circumstances been different, Lofty would have been pleased to hear his sister’s affection for his son.  Now he had no time for that sort of emotion.

“Oh?  So instead you’d let the Mystics use him as a hostage to manipulate me?” he asked.  Grace cringed.  “You know.  You know that’s what they’re doing.  They set him up as bait, and you knew it.  You call that safety?”

“Well, what is your plan, then?  Running?  Hiding?  The life of a fugitive?  How can you possibly think that life is okay for a foal?” Grace shot back.  “He’s my heir, Lofty.  The last chance for the Tale family, now that you’ve thrown all sense to the wind and ran off chasing some pretty eyes and a nice flank.  Tell me, brother,” she spat.  “How long did it take her to corrupt you?”

Lofty gaped.  Is that what she thought happened?  He shook his head.

“It wasn’t because of Topaz, Grace.  It was because of me.  I made the decision.”

“Why?” she hissed desperately.  Her eyes were wet; he could see that much in the dim light.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.  “You wouldn’t even listen if I told you, Grace.”  He sighed.  “It’s all lies.  All of it.  The Diarchy, the Knighthood.  It’s a house of cards.  And when it all comes down, our family is going to survive.”

Grace laughed bitterly.  “Oh, I know all about the Tale Family failsafe.  That’s what got grandfather killed.  What an idiotic—”

He cut her off suddenly.  “Grace, tell me where my son is.  I’d rather not go through you if I don’t have to.”

“Go through me?” Grace whispered harshly.  “I suppose you’re going to have to, because I’m not…”

“Auntie?  Too loud!”

Everypony froze.  From the next room down the hallway, True’s tiny face was poking out of the cracked door.  He was dressed in blue silk  pajamas, and clutched Smarty Pants in one hoof. “Daddy?  Daddy!”

“True!  Stay in your…” Grace began, but it went unheeded.  True Tale scampered down the hallway towards Lofty, throwing himself into his father’s hooves.  “Lofty.  Don’t you dare.”  Her voice changed from demanding to pleading.  “Think of what is best for True, Lofty.  Leave him with me.  I’ll keep him safe.”  Her tears were now streaming down her face.

“No, Grace.  If I leave him here, he’ll be used against me.  He’ll be safer by my side,” Lofty whispered, squeezing his foal tight to his chest.

“No!” his sister shrieked, snatching the spear from the guard next to her.  She lunged forward to shove Lofty back, away from True.  True fell backwards and began to cry, squeezing his enchanted doll tightly in his hooves.  Grace set herself to charge, ignoring the foal as she leveled the shaking spear at her brother.

“I can’t let you take him!” she screamed.  “So you’re either going to have to leave, or kill me, because I’m not letting our family die!”

Time seemed to slow down.  Lofty stared at his sister as she took first one hoofstep, then a second, setting the spear and putting her weight behind it as she moved towards him.  He gaped; she’d never been violent.  Never seemed so desperate.  He raised his hoof, ready to try and strike away the spear and dodge.

Lofty blinked.  

There had been no flash of magic, no loud noise or fanfare, but suddenly, a cloaked figure had appeared between him and his sister.  There was a dull thud as the spear tip impacted something solid — the tip of the spear had gouged deep into Starlight Glimmer’s collarbone.  She stood, motionless, seemingly unaffected by the weapon.

Grace’s jaw worked wordlessly, her eyes open wide in horror, reflecting the flickering, glowing light that emanated from Starlight Glimmer’s eye sockets.  A low moan of fear slipped past her lips, and she fell back, the spear clattering to the floor in an echoing racket.

The guards fared no better.  With a shriek of terror, both turned and fled down the corridor, babbling about demons and heretics and horrors of the night.  Lofty didn’t blame them; he’d had much the same reaction when he’d first encountered Starlight.

“W-w-what are y-you?!” Grace managed.  “L-lofty, what have you b-brought into our home?”

“Ponies should not…” Starlight began, but then froze.  “Ponies…” She turned her head, her gaze on Tale, who had stopped crying and was now staring, open-mouthed, at the creature in front of him.  Her glowing eyes seemed to narrow, and she let out a gasp of surprise…

And recognition.

“Sunburst?” Her echoing voice was thick with emotion, and Lofty could swear her bony hooves were shaking.  “Sunburst, is that…”

Before Lofty could stop him, True stood up and trotted over to the skeletal figure.  Grace reached out, panic evident in her eyes, but not in time for True to reach Starlight.  His eyes were full of wonder, and he lifted a hoof towards her face.  Starlight shrank back nervously.

“You can’t be… I don’t…”

“Sad pony,” True whispered, lifting his hoof to finally touch Starlight’s cheekbone.  “Why sad?”

“I don’t remember,” Starlight whispered.  Lofty and Grace stared on, frozen as they watched the scene unfold.

“Oh.” True said.  He glanced between Starlight and his doll, before hurriedly shoving the stuffed pony at Starlight.  “Smarty Pants wants hug you.”

“S-smarty P-pants?”  Starlight stammered.  “That used to be Twilight’s.  I remember!”  She took the doll reverently, turning to face Lofty.  “We have to leave.  Now.”

“I…” Grace tried to stand, but Lofty shoved himself between his son and his sister.

“Grace.  You can’t stop me,” he whispered, trying to hold out a hoof to her.  She swatted it away.  “The best you can do is not get in our way, so we’re not in any more danger as we flee.”

Grace glared up at him, lips pulled back in rage. Lofty stared back at her fiercely, locking eyes with her as he stood firmly in front of her. Finally, Grace let out a scream of frustration, fresh tears staining her cheeks.

“Fine! Get out!” Grace wept.  “Just remember that the family dies with you, brother.” She lowered her gaze, finishing in a quiet, desperate whisper.  “I hope you’re proud.”

 
> Chapter 40
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 40


The lyrics of “The Last Flight of Captain Celeano,” a sea shanty dating back at least nine hundred years. 

A Princess kept a treasure dear
'Twas not too safe to hold it near
She searched the skies for many a-year
And found a pirate old

Chorus:

The Captain bold and The Princess fair
Who sailed out on the open air
They met once more as old friends there
And hid a chest of gold!

The Captain she was old and grey
But promised she would find the way
She took the treasure to hide away
Beyond the rocks and shoals

[Chorus]

Her crew was gone, she sailed alone
She flew away to shores unknown
And she knew deep inside her bones
This quest would take her soul

[Chorus]

The Captain flew to Zebra seas
The treasure was bound with locks and keys
Her ship was caught up in the breeze
They dashed her to and fro!

[Chorus]

Her air-ship fell upon the spire
Her wings were weak, but her heart burned fire
She heaved herself up from the pyre
This captain brave and bold!

[Chorus]

And near that far forgotten bay
The Captain, she did die that day
But the treasure was hid safe away
Beyond the rocks and shoals

[Chorus]

Her bones stand vigil on the rock
Her soul still watches like a hawk
Upon her chest she guards and stalks
This pirate queen of old

[Chorus]

For those who search for treasure bright
Prepare yourselves for quite a flight
She won't give up without a fight
This treasure that she holds!

[Chorus]

The bauble sits beneath the claws
Of Capper's nimble, graceful paws
Placed within this hint it was
To find a worthy soul

[Chorus]

I warn ye sailor take my heed
For if your eyes be fraught with greed
The gem is not what you may see
That sparkling diamond cold

[Chorus]

The wizard's skull will guide the path
And shield you from the island's wrath
Lest the winds they grab and cast
Your body onto the shoal!

[Chorus]

So sailor, don't you waste a day
And seek the treasure without delay
Find the lost forgotten bay
And find the chest of gold!

[Chorus]

Heed ye this riddle and learn this song
And you'll be rich before too long
With treasure of this Captain strong
In this tale that I've told

1113 AF, Jubilation

            	“Remember, darling, you promised.” Rarity eyed Heartwing sternly as they trotted down the gangplank towards the harbor city that sprawled out in front of them.  “I get at least some uninterrupted shopping time in the markets.”  She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of sea air, desert wind, and the thousand other scents that floated through the air from the zebra city.

            	“Could you at least try to be productive while you do?” Heartwing asked, his voice exasperated.  “I’d hate to remind you again that we’re not tourists here.”

“I’m well aware of why we’re here, Heartwing,” Rarity tossed her mane, trying to hide just how eager she was to explore the new city she saw spread out in front of her.  “I just don’t see why we can’t enjoy ourselves when doing it.”

“Because you have a habit of losing focus.”

“Moi?  Lose focus?” Rarity huffed.  “That may be the absolute worst example of a pot calling a kettle black.  You have the attention span of a—”

“Yes, yes,” Heartwing interrupted impatiently.  “I’m a cad, I’m irresponsible, all that.  Just, while you’re buying whatever souvenirs you need in the markets, you could ask about the song.  It’s the best lead we have for the Element of Magic.”

            	“I can,” Rarity said slowly, as the four of them waited for the sailors to finish tying off on the long wooden dock so they could disembark.  Rarity could see both pegasi shifting from hoof to hoof, their wings twitching with impatience to be off the ship.  Neither one had done quite well with motion sickness over the journey.  “But it’s been a millennia, darling.  If the song was supposed to be a clue, wouldn’t somepony have already found it?”

            	“Not if there were clues meant for you to decipher,” Heartwing said.  “Besides, it’s a thousand year old sea shanty.  There could be different versions, with different clues.  While you’re shopping you could ask around.  But!” He held up a hoof.  “First we’re going to check in with my Knights here in Jubilation.”

            	“You have an embassy here?” Emberglow asked, her right hoof idly fiddling with her eyepatch.  Heartwing shook his head.

            	“Nothing official.  I have a Knight stationed in Jubilation, and a few more throughout the Free Zebra Republic, supporting various militias and guerilla groups that fight the Diarchy’s expansionist armies here.  Officially, the government of Jubilation recognizes the Equestrian government-in-exile out of the Crystal Empire as the rightful rulers of Equestria.  We’re just vigilantes to them, legally.”

            	“You make it sound worse than it is,” Terminus scoffed.  The sailors moved the gangplank into position, but Terminus was airborne already, floating over the gap between ship and dock to land before Heartwing’s hoof even touched the wood gangplank.  “The creatures love us here.”

            	“Some creatures love us here,” Heartwing warned.  “We’re safe here, but Jubilation is a free port.  There’s all kinds here, including agents of the Diarchy, so we do have to be watchful.”

            	“Then why are you all in armor?” Rarity asked.  “Not that you don’t all look rather dashing, of course.”  She noted, with a small grin, the way Emberglow’s cheeks got just a little pinker at that.

            	“Show of force,” came a voice from the dock.  Rarity looked up to see two more earth pony Knights approaching, followed by a young teenaged unicorn stallion.  They were drawing wary glances from the sailors and zebra dockworkers unloading cargo and moving freight.  One of the Knights, like Terminus and Heartwing, wore the traditional yellow armor of the Knights Discordant, while the other mare wore Twilight’s colors, complete with the yellow bands on the shoulders that indicated loyalty to the Discordant.  The colt was not wearing armor, but instead simple cotton robes.   It was the younger of the two who had spoken.  “My idea, actually.  Welcome to Jubilation, sir.”

            	Rarity followed Heartwing off the boat and stepped up to the two new mares.  Emberglow was close by her side, watching the new Knights warily.  Rarity didn’t blame her; the first seemed pleasant enough, a middle aged mare with a long brown braid and golden-yellow fur, but the second was much more intimidating.  She looked older than her companion, but the wrinkles and lines of age did nothing to hide the fire in her eyes. There was something frightening about her hard look that sent a shiver down Rarity’s fur.  Her dark navy fur was marred with horrific scarring across her throat, and her eyes darted about with the wariness of a trained soldier.

            	“Emberglow, Rarity, meet Golden Willow and Justice, two of the best Knights I’ve ever had serving in Jubilation,” Heartwing said.  Willow beamed at the praise, but Justice merely nodded silently.  “I don’t think I’ve met this stallion, though.”

            	“H-hello, s-sir!” The colt stepped forward, while the silent older mare’s mouth twitched in a slight smile.  “My name is Ch-chocholate Chip!  Lady Justice has taken me as her s-squire!”  He stammered nervously, but his expression was confident.  “It’s wonderful to meet you!”

            	“You took a squire, Justice?” Heartwing looked shocked, and Justice nodded, her smile widening just slightly as she patted the colt on the shoulders.  “Miracles do happen.”

            	The silent pony rolled her eyes at him, then jerked her head towards the rest of the port city.

            	“Justice is right,” Golden Willow said.  “We should get on our way. We’ve prepared room and board for you here while you…” she trailed off and waved a hoof vaguely, “… do whatever it is you’re here to do.  That I probably won’t like, and will most likely make my life difficult.”  There was a smile in her voice as she said it.

            	Justice turned, looking expectantly behind her while the others followed.  Golden Willow moved to stand alongside Rarity.

            	“So, the news wasn’t an exaggeration,” she said, her eyes bright with curiosity.  “We all knew the Saints were once real ponies, but I never imagined one of them would still be around.”

            	“I imagine it came as quite the shock,” Rarity said with a smile as they followed Justice.  She noticed that ponies really were staring at them as they passed, though there were several nods of respect and even a few cheers from the passing zebras.

            	“Working for the Big Guy, nothing much shocks me any longer,” Golden Willow said in a stage whisper.  Heartwing turned to give her a look.  “Well?  You’re weird.  And weird stuff happens around you.  And to you.  I love it.”

            	“Thank you, Willow, for that glowing testimonial.” Heartwing smirked.  “I would like to hope some of that rubbed off on you.”

            	“Most assuredly, sir!” Willow gave an awkward salute while walking, and Rarity laughed.  “And proud of it!”

            	“Willow here was my squire, once.  Years ago,” Heartwing explained.

            	“Was that an age crack?” Willow muttered under her breath.

            	“Speaking of squires, I’d love to hear about Justice and young Chocolate Chip, here,” he said, glancing speculatively at the young colt.

            	“You can call me Chip, s-sir,” Chip said.  “I’ve lived in Jubilation since I was three.  My m-mom tried to hide me from the Mystics when I was born, but we h-had to f-flee over here.  I’ve been l-living here ever since, and Lady Justice just agreed to b-be in charge of my t-training last month.”

            	“That explains why I wasn’t told.” Heartwing nodded.

            	Rarity was only half-paying attention to the conversation, allowing her eyes to drift over the foreign city with curiosity.  They had moved away from the bustling port and were now walking through a residential district, filled with squat, one story adobe homes, built with wide open windows.  The locals continued to glance at them with idle curiosity. 

Rarity made sure to take note of the zebra fashions; the flowing pale robes looked like they would be rather wonderful in the heat, and the beadwork on their jewelry was intriguing. 

            	“Is it o-okay?” Chip was saying, his eyes darting with worry between Heartwing and his mentor.  Justice nodded, and Heartwing laughed.

            	“Of course it is, young colt.  I just like to meet all Knights after they take their oaths, at least.  Justice here is free to train whoever she likes.”  He eyed the young colt up and down.  “And if she picked you, you must be something truly remarkable.  As far as I know, Justice has never taken a squire.”

            	Justice shook her head silently.

            	“Um, forgive me for being rude,” Rarity began.  “But how does she train you?  I assume her silence is not by choice.”

            	“Oh, it’s a challenge s-sometimes,” Chip admitted.  “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.  Lady Justice is a hero around here for those of us who’d still like to go home to Equestria someday.  That’s why Lady Willow said you all should wear your armor.”

            	“Not just a show of power, but a reminder?” Terminus mused, and Willow nodded.

            	“If you’ve been reading my reports, sir, you’ll know that things are getting strange here in Jubilation,” Willow explained.  “Local politics have been shifting towards a more open view of the Diarchy.  They’ve been allowed more missionaries, and the city council just passed an ordinance that allowed their embassy to double the size of their garrison.  In exchange, Diarchy naval patrols have been backing away from the port, and the city’s gotten some rather favorable trading contracts.”

            	“I see.” Heartwing pursed his lips thoughtfully.  “Anything to be worried about?”

            	“Not yet.” Willow shook her head.  “Jubilation is still neutral ground for all the Republic tribes, as well as other nations like the Diarchy and the Empire.  But if things keep going this way, I might have to be relocated.  I’m too well known as the face of the Discordant in town.  We may need to think about realigning how we interact with Jubilation.  In the meantime, though, I thought it best to remind them of how much the Republic owes the Discordant.”

            	“By parading one of our greatest heroes in front of them, who has spent almost her entire life fighting alongside zebras against the Diarchy.” Heartwing nodded.  “Good reasoning.”

            	“A hero?” Rarity asked curiously.  She felt oddly out of place in the conversation, like a third wheel.

            	“Oh yeah.” Willow nodded.  “Justice is a legend in Zebrica.  I’ve heard Diarchy troops call her ‘The Ghost’.  She’s racked up more loyalist Knight kills than anypony I know.”  Rarity couldn’t help but shudder a little bit, but not before she saw the somber look on both Heartwing and Justice’s faces.  Willow seemed to notice that the mood had shifted.  “I-in any case, you were unclear about what you needed here in your letter.  Besides arranging for lodging, is there anything we can help with?”

            	“We’re here looking for Captain Celeano’s lost treasure, actually,” Rarity said.  “Any help you could give would be appreciated.”

            	“That old wives tale?” Golden Willow giggled, and even Chip glanced at her skeptically.  “You know, if there were something to that silly legend, it was probably found years ago.”

            	“Yes, well,” Rarity replied.  “Heartwing seems to think that my old friend Celeano may have been charged with hiding one of the Elements of Harmony.”

            	“You mean they’re real?” Willow gasped.  “I thought…” She glanced at Rarity again, her eyes wide, then cleared her throat.  “Um.  We should probably talk about this indoors.”

            	The party silently followed until they stopped in front of one of the squat adobe buildings.

            	“This is Iodine and Bolero’s house,” Willow explained.  “They’re good friends, and they’ve agreed to put the four of you up for as long as you need to stay in town.  Let’s go introduce you guys.”

            	As they approached the house, Rarity could hear the bright, brassy sounds of a piano from inside, floating out of the wide window.  It was a delightful melody, almost a march, with a cheerful up-tempo beat.  It brought a smile to her face.

            	“Well, I’m sure whoever is making such a lovely sound must be a lovely pony,” Rarity smiled.  Willow nodded, and knocked on the wide wooden door.  The music stopped. 

            	“Coming!” a voice sang from inside.  Rarity heard the clatter of hooves before the door swung wide, revealing a handsome middle-aged earth pony stallion with yellow fur, wearing a loose white silk shirt.  His face was split with a wide, welcoming smile.  “Willow!  And your guests!  Come in, come in!  Iodine is out procuring groceries for an epic feast tonight.” He stepped back with a wave of his hoof, and the ponies followed him inside.  Rarity saw the stallion’s eyes take them all in, flinching ever so slightly when they laid on Justice, but widening when they rested on her.

            	“Thank you for your hospitality, darling.” She stepped forward with what she hoped was a winning smile.  He gulped, somehow managing to close his gaping mouth.

            	“By Celestia, you’re really real,” he breathed. 

Willow giggled. “You didn’t believe me, Bolero?” she accused, though her lips turned up in an amused smile.

“Don’t tease the poor stallion, Willow.” Rarity hid a small laugh of her own behind one hoof.  “He’s not the first pony to be nonplussed by my presence.”

“Oh!” Bolero suddenly jumped, a blush spreading over his cheeks.  “I’m terribly sorry, I’ve been so rude.  You must be Miss R-rarity.”  He barely stammered over her name.

“Yes, I am Rarity,” she said graciously, holding out a hoof for him to shake.  Instead he leaned down and kissed it gently, causing her to blush slightly.  “My friends are Sir Heartwing, Sir Terminus, and Lady Emberglow.”  She pointed to each in turn.

“We’ve met Sir Terminus,” Bolero said.  “He stayed with us a few nights, a couple of years ago.  It’s good to see you again.”  He shook Terminus’ hoof.  “Welcome, all of you.  Come inside, we’ve got cool drinks while we wait for my husband to  come back with the groceries.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Rarity said as she stepped inside the house.

The inside of Bolero and Iodine’s home was a monument to good taste.  They followed Bolero into a large lounge, complete with several couches and pillows, all of which matched each other.

In one corner was what appeared to be a small shrine, built around an old photograph of a stallion.  Rarity eyed it curiously, but beside her Emberglow stiffened and gasped, trotting over to the shrine and staring intently at the picture.

“I assume you have things you need to discuss,” Bolero said as they all found places in the wide, cool room, trotting further into the house.  “I’ll bring some snacks and drinks while we wait.”  He slipped out of the room, leaving his guests to get comfortable.

“Is everything okay, Miss Emberglow?” Rarity asked softly.

“I knew him,”  Emberglow said, pointing at the stallion in the photograph.  “I met him once.”  She fell silent, and Rarity reached out to brush her hoof against Emberglow’s shoulder.  She was shaking slightly.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Rarity asked.  Once again, Emberglow silently shook her head.  “If you like, I can ask our host about him.  So you don’t have to.”

“His name was July Blaze,” Emberglow whispered, before finally finding her own seat.  Rarity gave her one last curious glance before looking out over the assembled Knights.

“I trust everypony here, Rarity.” Heartwing seemed to see the unspoken question in her eyes.  Rarity nodded.

“Very well.  Most of you know why you’re here.  You’re all probably familiar with the sea shanty Heartwing shared with us all, ‘The Last Flight of Captain Celeano’.  Heartwing and I both believe that it must contain some sort of hint as to where Twilight hid the Element of Magic.  Since the shanty seems to have originated here in Jubilation, we thought it best to look for hints and clues here.”

“You’re not the first to have that idea, though,” Willow noted.  “That song’s been around for a few hundred years.  Adventurous zebras, and some ponies as well, have been looking for Celeano’s treasure for centuries.  As far as we know, nopony has found it.”

“That’s because they weren’t destined to find it, darling,” Rarity said, waving her hoof in a grandiose gesture.  She noticed Heartwing’s eyes narrowing.  “Yes, I know we can’t rely on that.  But I’d like to think the momentum of fate is on our side.”

“The momentum of fate may be, but the momentum of history isn’t.”  Willow shook her head.  “I don’t mean to be a downer here, but I wasn’t kidding when I said creatures have been looking for centuries.  I doubt there’s a stone in or around Jubilation that hasn’t been turned over.”

“What about some sort of hidden message?  Some clue buried in the song, an inside reference, that only somepony who knew Twilight or Celeano would understand?” Rarity asked.

Willow shrugged.  “It’s possible.  But it’s an ancient song.  There’s dozens of versions.”

“So the first order of business is to collect as many versions of the story as we can,” Rarity said.  “I’d also like to get a feel for the town itself.”  Heartwing sighed loudly, and Rarity narrowed her eyes at him.  “Yes, Heartwing, that does mean time spent in the marketplace.  Honestly, darling, how else am I supposed to get a feel for the creatures and culture of this beautiful city if I’m not allowed to experience it myself?”

“You may have a point, but…”

“Oh relax, Heartwing.  I’m not going to go overboard.”  Rarity tossed her mane with a huff.  “Besides, we’re relatively safe here.  Safer than we were back in the Diarchy, right?”

“That may not be exactly right.” Willow shook her head, and Justice and Chip both looked concerned.  “As I mentioned, local politics have been shifting towards a more open relationship with the Diarchy.  Some of the merchants’ council have bit signs in their eyes, and they’re interested in trading relationships that don’t involve piracy.”

“What does that mean, practically?” Heartwing asked.  “Are there more Diarchy forces in Jubilation?  Are they going to try to arrest us?”

“Yes and no,” Willow answered.  “There are more Knights than usual.  A few days ago, we got word of a ship with three Knights, and a couple dozen marines.  They’re staying at the Diarchy Embassy, and so far they’ve been pretty quiet.”

“Do you know who it is?” Heartwing asked, and Willow shook her head.

“I didn’t get names, or a good description.  Only that there’s two Mystics and a Radiant.  That’s on top of the four Adamant and the two Jubilant that are permanently stationed here.”

“Nine Knights,” Heartwing mused.  “And they’re staying in their embassy.  I wonder what their goal is.”

“I only have one informant in the Embassy, a maid that doesn’t have very much access.  She reports, however, that the new Knights have been talking a lot about the weather.”

“The weather?” Heartwing narrowed his eyes.

“Something about unseasonably cold weather over in New Canterlot City,” Willow explained.  “I thought it might be code for something.”

“It could be,” Heartwing scratched his chin.  “It has been getting colder in the capital.  The state radio has been reporting that it has something to do with ‘dwindling faith among the citizens’ or something like that.”

Justice gave a loud snort of disbelief, shaking her head, and Willow was nodding along.  “Ridiculous.  As if a pony’s behavior could have an effect on the weather.”

“it’s not unprecedented,” Rarity said, and everypony stared at her.  “There’s that old legend of the Windigoes, after all.”  She felt her cheeks heating up at the sudden attention she was getting.  “Of course, I don’t know h-how much of that fable was history, and how much was elaborated on for the sake of the Hearth’s Warming tale.”

“Windigoes were real, once,” Heartwing said.  “I always thought the Diarchy destroyed them while I was a stone.  But I don’t know for sure.”

“Wait, Windigoes?  What’s that?” Willow looked confused, and Rarity glanced around at the other faces in the room.  Emberglow, Terminus, Justice, and even Chip looked on uncomprehendingly.

“Creatures that thrive on disharmony and imbalance between the pony races,” Heartwing explained.  “They’re creatures of ice and snow.  The stronger they grow, the colder things get.”  He shrugged.  “I figured they were all gone, or else we should have seen something when the Diarchy started locking away unicorns in their own communities, and then eventually killing them.  But since Equestria hasn’t been buried in yards of snow, it seemed safe to assume they were no longer an issue.”

“That’s the reason we all celebrate Hearth’s Warming, to memorialize the day the pony races united in peace and harmony to finally cast back the Windigoes,” Rarity chimed in, once again to several blank stares.  “Let me guess.  That’s another one of the holidays that the Diarchy has co-opted.”

“They also call it “Saint Twilight’s Night,” Terminus explained.  “Saint Twilight brings the light of knowledge and truth to cast back the dark, cold mists of ignorance and heresy.  It’s a day of reflection and renewal of faith, where we contemplate the lessons we’ve learned over the past year.”

“No Hearth’s Warming Tree?” Rarity asked, and Terminus shook his  head.  “No gifts?  Carols?”

“There are Saint Twilight’s Night gifts,” Emberglow chimed in.  “Though the confessors usually encourage educational gifts, things that promote spiritual growth during the coming year.  And what are carols?”

“Hearth’s Warming songs, dear,” Rarity said, but Terminus and Emberglow were both shaking their heads.

“It’s more of a quiet, contemplative holiday now, Rarity,” Terminus said gently.  Rarity huffed and stomped a hoof.

“That’s unacceptable.  Heartwing, we should make it a priority to bring back the real Hearth’s Warming as soon as possible.”  The others smiled at her in amused disbelief, but Heartwing was nodding.

“Why not?” he shrugged.  “At the very least it’ll be good for morale.  At best, it’s a good step on the path of bringing harmony back to Equestria.  Not exactly why we’re here, though.”

Everypony fell silent, and Rarity felt self-conscious.  Not for the first time, she remembered just how different these ponies were from her.  She was about to clear her throat and begin speaking again when Bolero reentered, followed by a dark furred stallion.  Both bore numerous trays full of sliced vegetables and other snack foods.

“Sorry I’m late, everypony,” the second stallion called out as the two of them set the food down between the assembled Knights.  “I had to pick up some supplies.  I’m Iodine Mark, and I’m honored to have you in my home.”  His gaze drifted over the assembled ponies, and he even did a double take, swallowing loudly when he saw Rarity.  “You… um, you’re…”

“Rarity.  Charmed to meet you, Iodine.  You have such a lovely home, and I’m ever so honored to be enjoying your hospitality.  Thank you.”

“Yes, um…”  He flushed, enough that she could see the darkening of his cheeks even over his dark fur.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Nonsense, there was a lull in the conversation anyways.” Rarity waved her hoof.  “A good time to break for a snack, wouldn’t you all say?”  There were murmurs of agreement, and the assembled ponies dug into the graciously provided meal.  Rarity watched Emberglow approach Iodine Mark, hesitation clear on her face.  She moved closer.  Not to overhear, of course.  Whatever was happening was bothering her, and Rarity wanted to be close to offer support if needed.

“This shrine, here,” Emberglow began, her eye darting between the photograph at the shrine and Iodine.  “Um, this stallion.  Who was he?”

“July Blaze was my brother,” Iodine said, walking over to the picture and picking it up.  “He’s the one who helped smuggle Bolero and I out of the Diarchy.  After that, he didn’t want to stop.  He kept smuggling ponies out of the country, anypony that didn’t want to hide any longer.”

“I know.  I met him.  Back when I…” Emberglow was breathing hard, and Rarity silently reached out with a steadiying hoof.  Emberglow shot her a grateful look.  “Back when I…” she gulped.  “I was… um, it was after he was arrested.  The public pillories, in New Canterlot City.  He was kind.”  She fell silent, bowing her head.

“Do you think you could tell me about him?” Iodine whispered.  Emberglow swallowed hard, and nodded.  “When you’re not busy with your meeting, of course.  If you’re able.”

“I don’t mind.  We’re pausing for lunch anyways, right?”  Emberglow gave a weak laugh.  “I’m not really hungry.”

“You should eat something, Emberglow,” Rarity chided.  “I’m sure we can talk about it while we eat.”  She made eye contact with Iodine, and a bit of silent understanding passed between them.  He took one of Emberglow’s sides, and Rarity stood at the other.  Between the two of them, they gently but firmly guided her to the food.

“Yeah.  Yeah, of course,” Emberglow said.  The three of them selected their lunch from the small buffet, with Rarity ensuring Emberglow got enough to eat.  “Sorry.  Terminus has to keep reminding me.  Rule three.”  She sighed impatiently.

“It takes time, darling,” Rarity patted her on the back with one hoof.  “Everypony is patient.”

“It took me years before I stopped feeling guilty for the dumbest things,” Iodine chimed in.

“It’s not guilt,” Emberglow admitted.  “It’s… I don’t know.”  The three of them sat down, with Emberglow in the middle, and she began to talk.

She told a story about being a young page, feeding the poor souls trapped in some sort of barbaric public punishment.  Rarity had nothing to add more than sympathetic nods and occasional comforting pats with her hoof.

When she was finished, Iodine was silent for a long time.  He’d even stopped eating.  His eyes were distant and unfocused.  Finally he took a deep, shaky breath.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said.  “It’s… good to know he was still able to find a reason to smile.  Even at the end.  And thank you for showing him kindness.”

“Did I, though?” Emberglow whispered, her voice raw.  “I could have…”

Emberglow fell silent, and Iodine nodded. Rarity sat silently, watching two ponies share a quiet moment.  She wanted to say something, but no words came.  She shuffled her hooves, carefully trying not to watch as the two ponies gazed mournfully at the shrine.  There was a part of Rarity that wanted one of the two of them to end the silence, say something more, maybe even change the subject.  But the quiet lingered. So she did what she could, leaning over and giving Emberglow a comforting squeeze.

After everypony had eaten, it was time to make plans.  Rarity stood, calling everypony’s attention with a polite clearing of her throat.

“I think it’s time to make some plans, now that we’ve all eaten,” she began, with a grateful nod to her hosts.  “Given what Willow has told us about the state of the city, we should split up into large groups.  I think two should be sufficient?”

The rest of the conversation was practical, as they discussed the groups.  In the end, they decided that Rarity, Terminus, and Emberglow would scour the market for rumors or other versions of the song, with Chocolate Chip serving as their local guide.  Meanwhile Willow, Justice, and Heartwing would see what they could discover from the area around the Diarchy embassy.  Their hosts even offered to try and procure some sea charts, so the Knights could get a look at some of the islands surrounding Jubilation.

“It’s decided, then?  We’ll meet back here right before dinner?” Everypony nodded, and the Knights, Rarity, and one squire set out into the city, towards the open air markets.

Before they separated, Lady Justice took Chip aside, giving him a significant look and pointing at Terminus and Emberglow.  He nodded, and Rarity looked at him quizzically.

“I’ve been given orders to follow Sir Terminus’ and Lady Emberglow’s instructions to the letter,” the squire said, earning a proud smile and nod from his silent Knight.

“We’ll take care of your squire, Justice,” Terminus said, and Justice nodded.  Rarity followed him and Emberglow out of the home, accompanied by the young squire.

“I just can’t wait to see the market!” Rarity’s walk became a prance of delight, even as Terminus and Emberglow both shot her an amused look.  “What?  For purely businesslike reasons, of course!”  She didn’t even begrudge them their amused laughter.


*   *   *   *   *


 “Th-there’s two main markets in Jubilation,” Chip explained when they’d split off from the others.  “The Gold Run is mostly for foreign merchants, trade goods, and exotic s-stuff.  The Four Ways M-marketplace is where locals go to buy everyday th-things.”

“I’d love to see the Gold Run, first,” Rarity said.  It wasn’t just because she was utterly curious about what wonders a foreign exotic market might hold.  It wasn’t.  But Terminus and Emberglow were both smirking slightly when she said it, and she rolled her eyes.  “It’s where we’re more likely to find well-traveled ponies, after all.”

“S-sure, follow me!” Chip said cheerfully.  “It gets pretty c-crowded, so stay close.”

He had not been kidding.  The sounds and the smells of the market arrived long before Rarity could see it.  It had the smell of commerce, of spices and food vendors, of dust and sweat and labor.  It sounded bright and messy, full of cheerful arguments and bickering bartering.

The Gold Run was set in a slight recess, a scoop in the ground surrounded by much taller buildings.  Huge tarps spread over crowds and booths alike, providing a hodge-podge of shade over the bustling creatures.  Zebras, ponies, and other creatures of all sizes and ages jostled about the market, laughing, shouting, pushing, greeting and cheering.  The sound flowed up over the market like a tide, washing over Rarity in a cacophony of energy and life.

Rarity tried to take it all in at once.  In a way, it reminded her of the marketplace at Klugetown, though this one was cleaner.  It was just too bad that she had to be there for business, rather than leisure.  But if she happened to just simply... stumble across a bargain on some dressmaking supplies, maybe exotic cloth or some nice lace trim…

“Miss Rarity?  Are y-you okay?” Chip’s question cut through her fantasies of foamy lace and silken dresses, and she blinked, coloring a bit when she noticed everypony else was staring at her.

“Just fine, dears.  Sorry about that.  It’s just all so wonderful, isn’t it?”  The question was rhetorical, not really addressed at anypony, but Chip nodded.

“I l-love the Gold Run.  I don’t have a lot of spending money, usually, but it’s f-fun just to hang out here.”  He pointed with a hoof.  “There’s a lot more than j-just zebras and ponies, too.”  It was true.  Rarity could see minotaurs and griffons, and even a few creatures she had no name for.  Hooved deer with swooping horns,  a pair of bipedal dogs that looked like sleeker, cleaner diamond dogs, and even a small dragon darting about above the crowd, hovering on her batlike wings.

The sight gave her a pang of homesickness as she suddenly thought of Spike.  Gulping past the sudden lump of emotion in her throat, she tried to focus on the task at hoof.

“Shall we split up?” she asked, and immediately the corners of Emberglow’s mouth turned down in a frown.  “Just to cover more ground, of course.  We can talk to more ponies if we’re not together.”

“I’m not really comfortable with that,” Terminus said.  He was glancing around himself nervously, his wings twitching.  “There’s a lot of ponies down there.  Crowds make me nervous; they’re unpredictable.  Easy to get lost in.”

“Well, it may not be the most efficient, but I don’t mind braving the crowd with a contingent of Knightly bodyguards,” Rarity conceded with a grin.

“We’ll keep you safe,” Emberglow said quite seriously, stepping a little closer.  Rarity had to hold back a laugh; she’d been being silly, of course.  But Emberglow’s presence, plus the other Knight and the squire, did make her feel quite confident in the bustling crowd.

“I think we should find a local storyteller,” Terminus said.  “If I remember correctly from the last time I was in Zebrica, there are a few that do street performances for the tourists and foreigners.  We could probably collect a few different versions of the song from them.”

“Storyteller?” Rarity asked, intrigued.

“Look for a really brightly dressed zebra, usually standing on a stool or a box of some sort.  Sometimes they’re singing, other times reciting poetry.  There might be puppets, too.”

“Very well.”  She set off through the crowd, and the others followed her lead.

It felt odd, being the pony in charge.  Here were three others who knew this world better than she did.  Who had grown up in it.  She was an outsider, a newcomer, not even a part of their order or their command chain, but Emberglow and Terminus both seamlessly followed her instructions as if she were.  It made her a little uncomfortable, even though she understood Heartwing’s reasons for putting her in charge.

Suddenly Emberglow let out a gasp, stumbling backwards until her flank bumped into Rarity.  Rarity glanced over at her; Emberglow’s eye was wide and surprised.

“Terminus, how many Mystics did they say came over?”  Emberglow’s voice sounded shaky.

“Two,” Terminus said.

“I thought I just saw…” Emberglow breathed, then shook her head.  “No.  it was probably me imagining things.” 

“Tell us who you think you saw,” Rarity coaxed gently.  Emberglow seemed skittish, her hooves tapping nervously against the dirt floor of the market.

“An old acquaintance.  Her name is Joyful Noise.  Earth Pony mare, a Knight Mystic.  We were in the seminary together, and then she was at Manehattan.”  She went silent, which wasn’t surprising.  Emberglow rarely liked to talk about what happened in Manehatten before Rarity had awoken.

“You’re sure you saw her?” Rarity asked, and Emberglow pursed her lips, shaking her head.

“What does she look like?” Terminus’ wings spread wide, and he reared slightly on his hind hooves, ready to spring into the air.

“Short blue mane with lighter blue streaks.  Greyish fur,” Emberglow said.

“Don’t you go picking a fight, now,” Rarity cautioned, and Terminus nodded.

“I’d just like to get a better look, Rarity, if you don’t mind.”  He waited for her nod before springing into the air with a mighty leap.  Zebras around them stopped and stared as the pegasus gained altitude, his eyes scanning the crowd.  He didn’t even get out of earshot, but Rarity still watched him nervously until he flapped back down to them.

“I couldn’t see anypony with that description, Emberglow.  But it doesn’t mean you imagined her.  Maybe she slipped out of sight after catching sight of you.”

“What does that mean for us?” Rarity asked.  “Are we in danger?”

“Probably,” Terminus said.  “We’ll keep an eye out for any more of Emberglow’s old acquaintances.”

“We shouldn’t let them intimidate us, whether or not the Mystics are here watching us,” Rarity said, noting Emberglow’s nervous glances.  She completely understood the sentiment; Emberglow’s last encounter with loyalist Knights was not one even Rarity wanted to spend too much time thinking about.

“L-look!” Chip called out, and Rarity’s heart leapt, thinking he’d spotted one of the enemy Knights.  Instead, however, he was pointing at a middle aged zebra stallion dressed in a dizzying palate of rainbow colored silk.  He was surrounded by a fascinated crowd of mostly zebra youngsters, though there were a few other creatures gathered about as well.  His mouth and hooves were moving animatedly, though she couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“We’ve found our first storyteller, it seems,” Rarity said cheerfully, happy to move on from the worrisome topic.  She trotted over, close enough to hear the tail end of his latest tale.

“…as tall as the mountains, and warmer than the sun.  But Snowflake Flutter was undaunted.  She knew she was all that stood between her family in the ship and the creature before her.”  The zebra storyteller flourished his hooves, releasing some sort of powder into the air.  It ignited in a tiny puff of light and smoke, and for a briefest moment, Rarity could see an image of smoke and flame; a vast dark dragon looming over a tiny pegasus.

The surrounding zebra foals all gasped and clapped their hooves together in gleeful terror, and even some of the adults ‘oohed’ in pleasure.  Rarity came to a stop on the edge of the crowd, and her companions fanned out around her.  She saw the storyteller meet her eyes, and he flashed her a dashing grin before continuing.

“But how was one lone pegasus to face off against a dragon?  All she had was her wits, her wings, and the enchanted yarn the shaman had given her.  But there wasn’t much yarn, and she didn’t think the dragon would stop rampaging if she knitted him a sock.”  The gathered foals giggled, and the storyteller drew a single, rainbow-colored thread out of his voluminous sleeves.  He waved it about, gracefully trailing it through the air and dancing it about with his hooves.

“The dragon wasn’t about to give her time to think.  He snapped down with his jaws, trying to swallow her whole.  Snowflake wracked her brain, trying to remember the shaman’s words when he gave her the yarn.  ‘Spin the yarn in darkness to find light.  Spin the yarn in prison to find freedom.  Spin the yarn in danger to find freedom’.  Snowflake didn’t know what it meant, but she was out of options.”

There was another flourish of hooves, and a pop of sulfur, and another image appeared in front of the storyteller; this time the tiny pegasus was desperately flying away from the dragon.

“Summoning all her courage, Snowflake shot forward and kicked the dragon, right in the nose.  Of course this didn’t sit well with the monster; he roared in fury and shot after her, away from the ship and her family.  He was much faster than she was, though, so it wasn’t long before the demon opened his jaws wide and snapped, trapping Snowflake in his gullet.  With a gulp, he swallowed, and the heroine was gone.”

The assembled foals called out protests and whimpered in fear, but the storyteller’s eyes were glinting.

“But not all hope was lost. For Snowflake’s last act of courage had awoken the enchantment in the yarn.  It flowed out of her hooves and spun around her like a garment, becoming a cloak that wrapped around her and protected her from the fires of the dragon’s stomach.  She curled up in fear, but the cloak wrapped around her, powered by courage and love, keeping her safe.  Even the dragon started to feel the holy glow from inside him.”

There was a third tiny firework, accompanied by the (rather uncouth, though impressive) image of the smoky dragon regurgitating a brightly glowing pegasus.

“With a wretch, he rejected the hero from his gullet.  He was ready to strike, but her love and bravery shined from her eyes like a beacon.  It filled the dragon with such fear that he turned and fled.”

“So Snowflake Flutter landed on the ship, and was immediately surrounded by her adopted zebra family.  And the ten of them continued on their way home, on clear seas.”  He finished with a final tiny explosion, complete with the image of a small sailing ship floating off into the distance.  There was a brief silence, before the foals exploded with applause.  The storyteller took a bow, and motioned dramatically towards a wide-mouthed clay pot set on the ground in front of him.  A few of the adult zebras tossed a coin or two in the pot.  With each donation, the storyteller smiled winningly.

“That was quite the performance,” Rarity said, approaching as soon as the crowd had cleared enough for her to get close.  She fished a few bits out of her saddlebag and dropped them in the pot.  “I’m sad to say I missed the beginning.  I can’t say I’m familiar with the story of Snowflake Flutter.”

“Oh?  It’s a fairly common story,” the zebra’s eyebrows raised, though he was smirking.  “I must say, though, even if you had heard her story before, I doubt you’ve ever heard it told by somepony as talented as the Great Yazid.”

“I find myself lucky for the experience,” Rarity laughed.  For a moment she was reminded of Trixie, and was rather surprised to find that the memory was accompanied by a strong sense of loss, rather than annoyance or resignation.  She cleared her throat, trying to drive the melancholy thoughts from her head.  She had other business.  “And from somepony so well dressed, too.  I must say, you have quite the sense of style.”

“Why thank you, Miss Unicorn.  A zebra does try.”  He spread his forehooves and posed dramatically, and Rarity laughed again.  Next to her, however, Emberglow cleared her throat.  Rarity glanced over; Emberglow looked uncomfortable, and a little upset, though Rarity could not tell why.  Still, it was good to focus on business.

“If you have more time, Great Yazid, me and my companions would love to hear another story,” Rarity glanced significantly at her saddlebag, and she could have sworn that Yazid had bit signs in his eyes.

“I would be pleased,” he replied.  “But from the looks of you and your companions, you probably have quite the story of your own?  I’ve never known the infamous Knights Discordant to live anything less than interesting lives.”

“I’m sure our lives are far less interesting than you think,” Rarity lied, but from the small huff of laughter Yazid gave, he didn’t believe her for an instant.  “We’re much more interested in ancient stories.  Such as ‘The Last Flight of Captain Celeano’?”

“You claim to not be interesting, then reveal yourself as a treasure hunter.”  The street performer laughed.  “Tell me, young lady, what drove you to seek fortune and glory?”

He was digging for a story in return, but Rarity wasn’t sure how much of their business she wanted blasted about the marketplace by overeager zebra storytellers, so she chose to keep her answer vague.  “Can’t you tell, darling?  I was born for fortune and glory.”  She tossed her mane a little, and the storyteller’s eyes twinkled.

“Well, who am I to become an obstacle on that path?  Now, would you prefer the narrated version, or the song?”

She’d already heard the sea shanty version of the song, so the choice was clear.  “The narrated version, please.  I quite enjoyed the theatrical presentation of your last thrilling tale.”

It was much like the story they’d seen before, and it wasn’t long before a small crowd of foals started to gather, watching the storyteller with spellbound fascination.  Like the story before, Yazid punctuated the tale with clever pyrotechnics and dramatic flourish.  It was clearly a fictionalized version of the events in question; the story changed Celeano into a hippogriff, and the ‘princess’ was a zebra.  But it was a thrilling tale nonetheless.

The princess had a treasure to hide from cruel enemies that wanted to take it away.  She knew she’d be back for it someday, and if not her, then her heirs.  So she begged her friend, the aging Celeano, to hide the treasure in the most remote location she could think of.  Celeano agreed and set sail.

The tale was full of adventure and danger, and Rarity found herself getting caught up alongside the foals in the theatricality of it all.  Yazid’s voice was mesmerizing, and she realized she was enjoying herself more than she thought she would.  It was only Emberglow’s uncomfortable, impatient shifting beside her that snapped her out of her trance.

“Is everything all right, darling?” she whispered, as Yazid was recounting Celeano’s ship being battered by a particularly vicious storm.  Emberglow colored and shook her head.  Rarity wanted to press; the poor dear was sometimes so bad about internalizing her problems, not opening up to her friends, but now was not the time or place.

“Sorry,” Emberglow whispered back. 

Rarity blinked at her in confusion.  “Whatever for, Emberglow?”  The question only made Emberglow blush harder and look away.  Rarity dropped the question with a shrug, though she wished there were something more she could do.  She hated to see the poor mare suffering, after all.

Finally Yazid was reaching the end of his tale, with Celeano crashing on her destination, an undiscovered island that hadn’t been found since.  Using the last of her strength, Celeano filled the island with clever traps and safeguards, before locking the treasure away forever.

As with before, the foals clapped and cheered, though Yazid held up a hoof.  He reached behind himself and pulled out a large stringed instrument, from where it had been hiding behind him.  It was odd to Rarity’s eyes, looking as if somepony had combined a guitar and a harp.  There was a large, round resonator, with a long, curving neck extending from it, with almost two dozen strings stretching down.  He set the resonator on the ground in front of him and danced his hooves across the strings, and the air was filled with light, cheerful strums of music.  Yazid took a few moments to tune the strings, turning keys on the instrument’s neck before launching into the song version of the story.

The performance was entertaining, but it was just like the one Heartwing had sung for them back in Angel’s Rest.  There was nothing new here, except for the change in the character’s races.  Still, Yazid had a soothing singing voice, and his playing was delightful.  When he was done, he bowed once again, and gestured to his money pot.  Rarity dropped a few more coins into the pot where they plinked metallically against the growing pile.

“Thank you so much for the tale and the song, Yazid,” Rarity said.

“It was an absolute pleasure to serve such a beautiful lady,” Yazid’s eyes were half lidded, his voice low.  “I could stare into your eyes and sing poetry all day long.” Rarity blinked, blushing a little at the realization he’d been flirting with her.   It was probably standard practice; this was how he earned his living after all.  Still, she could be polite.

“As much as I would love to stay and listen to stories all day, I do have other things to attend to.  I must say, though, for my first trip to Jubilation, you’ve made it quite memorable.”

He bowed and smiled, and Rarity turned to her companions, ready to move on and find the next storyteller.  Emberglow still looked uncomfortable and shifted about from hoof to hoof, while Terminus was shooting her concerned glances.  Chip seemed unconcerned, smiling with excitement.  He was already looking about for the next storyteller.

“What…” Rarity began, but at Emberglow’s stricken, guilty look, she chose not to ask.  Still, she wondered and worried a little.  Perhaps it had something to do with the Knight acquaintance Emberglow had thought she’d seen earlier.  “Um.  Shall we find the next story?”

Chip was more than happy to lead the way deeper into the Gold Run, and before too long they were stopping in front of the second storytellers. This time, it was a young zebra couple working in tandem, with the mare telling the stories while the stallion provided background music on a small flute.  Rarity waited patiently until they were done with their current story, before once again requesting their version of the tale.  As with Yazid, they were more than happy to comply.

Their version was much like Yazid’s, with the main characters’ races being changed to a hippogriff and a zebra.  But there were a few different details, such as the treasure’s location being a remote mountain, rather than an island.  Rarity made a point of remembering every variation.

They spent several hours rather pleasantly moving about the Gold Run, listening to many different versions of the story.  By the time the sun was beginning to set, they’d heard dozens of storytellers, all with their own unique style and detail, tell the thrilling adventure of the dying captain heroically performing her final duty.

“So what have we learned?” Rarity mused out loud as the four of them began their journey back to Iodine and Bolero’s home.  The sky was alive with the painted hues of sunset, and the hot air was just beginning to cool with the slightest of breezes blowing in from the ocean.

“Most versions of the story seem to agree on the races of the creatures involved,” Emberglow began, her voice taking on a lecture-like cadence that made Rarity smirk.  Sparklevoice, indeed.  “Since all of the stories we heard refer to the Princess as a zebra, it’s safe to assume everypony has forgotten that the song was supposed to refer to T-twilight Sparkle. While most of the stories also make Celeano a hippogriff, there were a few that called her a griffon, as well.”

“I do wonder what happened to the parrots,” Rarity mused a little sadly.  “They were majestic and proud creatures.  Bipedal, unlike us.  I suppose it makes sense that the songs and stories would change if the creatures were no longer around.”

She paused, and glanced at Emberglow, who was staring at her.  “Sometimes it’s hard to think about the fact that you knew these ponies, er, creatures.” Emberglow shook her head.  “Um.  So Celeano’s race has been forgotten.  But that’s perhaps all the stories agree on.  The rest is kind of a jumbled mess.

“Some versions have the resting place of the treasure on an island, others a remote mountain surrounded by smoke.  Probably volcanic.  In some versions Celeano has a crew, others she’s alone.  Though I don’t see how it would be possible to steer an airship all by oneself, especially if Celeano was as old as the songs seem to indicate.”

“Believe me, darlings, she would find a way.  Celeano had an iron will and endless courage, when I knew her.”

“Maybe you should tell us how you met her,” Terminus suggested.  “We could match what we learned from the songs with what you knew of her in life, and maybe learn more about where she might have hidden the Element.”

“Oh, so now it’s my turn to tell a story?” Rarity teased.  “Very well, but don’t expect the level of talent or theatricality we saw back in the Gold Run.”

She began to regale them with the thrilling adventure, starting with the invasion of the Storm King at the Festival of Friendship.  It was a bit of an odd thing to tell the story; she’d lived through those things, and even though they may have taken place centuries ago, for Rarity, it was only a few years old.

She talked about the dashing (but deceptive) Capper, about the despondent and defeated pirates, and how Rainbow and their friends had rallied them before they had lost their ship to the Storm King’s forces.  She didn’t stop there, either, sharing the story of the seaponies as well, before finishing with the thrilling tale of retaking Canterlot from the Storm King’s creatures.

By the time they were finished, the four ponies were nearly back at Iodine and Bolero’s home.  The other three proved a wonderful audience, and though Rarity could see Emberglow was bursting with questions and curiosity, she held back until Rarity was finished.

“After all that, Celeano and her crew went back to adventuring along the southern skies.  We kept in touch, as much as we could, though only through the occasional letter she sent to Twilight.  I only saw her in person one more time, when I visited Klugetown to see the reforms that Governor Capper was putting in place.  It was still a rather…” she paused, looking for a polite way to say it, “… rough place, though it was getting much better than when we first visited.”

“Sad to think about now,” Terminus said.  “Klugetown is a ruin now.  There’s less left than even in Manehatten, and it’s just as filled with motic radiation and weird critters.”

“What happened?” Rarity asked, and Terminus shrugged.

“We don’t know.  It’s not in any historical records, like the Siege of Manehatten, but it’s probably safe to assume that at some point the Diarchy sent forces down there to wipe out everyone.  And from the state of the ruins, they were probably successful.  Heartwing orders an expedition there every few years, when we can spare the ponies for it, just to keep an eye on things and see if we can learn anything about what happened.”

“Such a shame,” Rarity shook her head.  “I don’t suppose…”

“Emberglow.”

The voice was unexpected, unfamiliar, and filled Rarity with dread.  From the way Emberglow froze solid next to her, it wasn’t good news.  

She spun to look behind her, seeing a tall, elegant mare with an emerald mane and sky blue fur.  A single scar marked the center of her muzzle.  What was more frightening, however, was the armor she wore; it was white and pristine, complete with a painted-on version of her own cutie mark.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen the armor of the Knights Radiant before; Emberglow’s own armor had her cutie mark on it still, though she didn’t usually try to think about that too hard.  But given the lack of yellow stripes on the forehooves, this was a Diarchy Knight, not one of Heartwing’s.

Behind the mare stood three Diarchy marines, all carrying rifles.  They looked nervous, with eyes shifting about between their Knight and Rarity.

“You’ll have to forgive me, darling, but you appear to be wearing my cutie mark,” Rarity said loudly, stepping in front of Emberglow.  Her heart was pounding.  “I’m not sure I remember giving permission for such blatant plagiarism.”  She made sure to toss her mane, so her horn was clearly visible.

“Rarity,” Emberglow whispered.  “Get behind me.”

“Please, miss…” the Knight paused, glancing fearfully between Emberglow and Rarity.  “…Miss.  I’m only here to talk to my friend.”

“My name is Rarity, Knight.  You can say it.”

“I…” the Knight shook her head.  “Please.  I promise I will not attack first.  Please let me talk to Emberglow.”

“You can say whatever you like in front of all of us,” Rarity declared.  The Knight’s eyes flashed with anger, but she looked at Emberglow past Rarity’s shoulder.

“Is that true, Emberglow?  Does this… lie… speak for you?”

“Tell me what you want, Mercy,” Emberglow sighed.  “My friends can hear whatever you have to say.”

“If you insist,” Mercy shook her head sadly.  “Steadfast asked me to bring a message.  An apology.  He made a mistake, and he wants to talk.”

“Mistake?” Emberglow hissed.  “Mistake?!  He threw me to Brightblade, Mercy.  I was tortured!”  She stomped her hoof angrily on the ground.

“Excuse me, miss Mercy, was it?” Rarity said.  “You seem to be Emberglow’s friend.  Would you like to know what she looked like when I found her?  When I rescued her from your friend?”

“You…” Mercy’s eyes widened, and she took an unconscious step back.  “You rescued… she…”

“She was in terrible shape,” Rarity pressed forward mercilessly.  “Broken ribs, a broken wing.  Her fur was rubbed raw in places, and her face was bruised.”  She paused dramatically.  “You do know Steadfast was in that camp, right?  He was there, the whole time.  I ran into him.  If it was a mistake, why didn’t he stop it then?”

“He… I…”

“I’m going to guess,” Rarity interrupted.  “He found out something more.  Something about Emberglow that makes her more valuable to whatever he’s planning.”  Rarity glanced at Emberglow, whose eyes had widened.

“Emberglow, please.  I just want to understand.  I want to talk to you.”  Mercy shifted, trying to catch Emberglow’s eyes.  It was rather insulting, the way she kept ignoring Rarity.

“No thank you, Mercy.” Emberglow’s voice was shaking.  “The last time I just wanted to talk ended with…” she shuddered, and trailed off.  “We’re leaving.  If you don’t want there to be a fight, please don’t follow us.”

“I… I can’t let you go!” Mercy begged.  “Steadfast’s orders are to bring you back alive.  If you come with me, then Brightblade can’t hurt you!”

Emberglow froze, her eyes wide.  For a moment, Rarity was reminded of a small, panicked animal.  The brave Knight seemed to shrink into herself, but then something hard flashed in her eyes.

“Chip?” Emberglow whispered.  “You can cast shield spells, right?”

“Y-yes, Lady Emberglow.”

“Your orders are to keep Rarity safe, no matter what.  As soon as you can, run.  Terminus, please keep an eye on them and make sure nopony follows.”

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” Rarity demanded.  “The sacrifice act.  Oh no you don’t, Emberglow.  I remember how that ended the last time.”

“But if Brightblade is here, somewhere…” Emberglow’s voice was nearly a whimper.  “If he’s here, then I don’t know if I can protect you.”

“Rarity,” Terminus said softly.  “Emberglow will be fine.  I’ll stay by her side this time.  You need to get free.  Chip can keep you safe, and I’ll keep Emberglow safe.  Try to find Heartwing and bring back help.”

“Very well, if…”

“Chip, Rarity?  Run!”  Terminus even had the cheek to swat her on the rump with one wing, but it was enough to get her moving.  The soldiers cried out in surprise, and even Mercy took a threatening step forward, but Emberglow and Terminus both moved to block her.  Rarity spared a glance over her shoulder as she ran.

“D-don’t worry, Miss Rarity,” Chip yelled, just as his horn lit up with a purple glow.  “I’m good with shield spells, you’ll see!”  His eager confidence was comforting, moreso when a purple bubble of force arose around them.  “I’ll keep you safe!”

“Perhaps.  But who’s going to keep her safe?”  Rarity  asked, with both heartbreak and anger in her voice.
> Interlude: Numb
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: Numb


 

            The Tale manor looked empty and dark, towering over the foregrounds like a tombstone.  Grace expected to feel relief as she walked through the open gate, but she felt nothing.  With a sigh, she stepped past the topiaries.  They were no longer immaculately kept, instead becoming vague and overgrown, losing their cohesion and figure.

            Of course the gardeners had quit.  And the cooks.  She’d fired the guards herself.  What use were guards who ran at the first sign of danger?  Even if they had seen whatever creature Lofty had brought into her home.  She’d seen the creature, too, and she hadn’t run.

            Her breath caught painfully in her throat and she stopped, almost falling to her knees in front of the front doors.  Choosing not to run hadn’t helped her.  It hadn’t changed anything.  

It hadn’t saved True.

            A sharp sob cut through her body, and she ran to the bushes next to the door to retch.  Nothing came out.  She hadn’t eaten in days.  She didn’t feel hungry.  She wiped her mouth with one hoof and slumped back to the front door.

            The manor’s entry hall was clean, if darkened.  She found the light switch and flipped it.  There was no evidence of the fight that had taken place here just a few days ago.  Or the subsequent investigation.  No hint that her own brother had violated her home, brought foul creatures here, and had stolen True off to whatever filthy heretic hole the bastard had slunk off to.  Him and his crystal slut.

            Her hoofsteps echoed loudly on the hard marble floor tiles.  Each sound bounced around the empty room.  It was probably soon to be emptier; she’d have to start selling off family assets and treasures soon.  The Mystics had already told her that most of the Tale family business contracts were drying up.  Banks were closing their accounts.  Allies were heading for warmer pastures, or for noble patrons less tainted by the stain of disgrace, failure, and heresy.

            The Tales were done.  Probably forever.  It would be a slow decline, if they were lucky.

            Over the echoing sounds of her hoofsteps, she heard sounds from the kitchen.  Surprised, she wandered over.  She was sure all the manor staff had abandoned them. Maybe it was an intruder.

            As she pushed the door to the kitchen open, she wasn’t worried about anypony who would be breaking into the Tale manor.  It wasn’t like she had anything left worth protecting.  As she opened the door wider, she was surprised, however, to see her husband at the counter, chopping vegetables.

            “Grace!  You’re back!”  Jackpot cried with naked joy, dropping the knife he was working with onto a pile of unevenly diced carrots.  He rushed over and wrapped her in a tight embrace.  “I thought you’d be gone forever.  The Mystics finally tired of asking you questions?”

            “Jackpot…” She stood there, frozen, unable to hug him back.  “I thought… why are you still here?  Didn’t they tell you?”

            “Tell me what?  About the accounts being frozen?  Or the forfeiture of the summer manor?”

            “Not that,” she whispered, her eyes clenching shut as she leaned into him, inhaling the scent of her husband.  He smelled like vegetables and spices.  When had he learned to cook?

            “Ah.”  He squeezed her more tightly.  “Yes.  Sir Tarpit did inform me.  I told him I wasn’t interested.”

            “But with an a-annulment, you could start over.  Your family could find you a new match.  Somepony who isn’t useless.”

            “Grace…”

            “So you’re cooking?” She pushed away from him, a little too hard.  “I’ve never known you to cook.”

            “Well, with the help all gone, I figured it was time to learn.”  He rested a hoof on her shoulder, looking deep into her eyes.  “I found an easy cook book.  I hope you like stew.”

            “I’m not sure I’m hungry.”

            “Grace.  You’ve been stuck in interview rooms with the Mystics for days now.  You need to relax and eat something.”  He looked askance at the piles of vegetables, the uneven, jagged cuts, and sighed.  “Even if it is of dubious worth.”

            “Maybe you could try chef’s good knives.  He keeps them in the high cupboard.”  She walked over and opened the cupboard in question, pulling out a knife block and setting it on the counter.  “You might have a better time.”

            “Nicer knives make a difference?”

            “He kept his sharper.  So probably.”

            Jackpot pulled out one of the knives, carefully slicing through the half-chopped carrot on the cutting board.  “Woah.  You’re right.  This will work a lot better.  Thanks!”

            For a few minutes, the only sound was the click of the knife against the cutting board.  Grace pulled out one of the knives, idly turning it over in her hooves as she tried not to think about what was happening.

            “So they decided to let you go?”

            Jackpot’s voice made her jump, dropping the knife on the counter with a clatter.  She looked over at her husband,  who hadn’t paused.  Now he was chopping potatoes.  The carrots were in a large stock pot on the range, boiling.

            “There was no reason to keep me.  I think they were satisfied I had nothing to do with what my brother did.  Besides, now I can be an example to the masses; this is what happens when you fail.”

            “But it’s not over, right?  We have to have faith that everything will be okay.  The Saints know you tried.  They’ll keep True safe, and bring him home.”  He put his knife down, moving over to wrap a hoof around her shoulders.  “Keep your hopes up, Grace.  Everything will turn out right.”

            It was the same thing he’d said after her first diagnosis.  And second.  It was what he’d said when they’d gotten the news about Lofty’s indiscretions.  He was a hopeless optimist.  Probably why he was still  here, rather than back with his family, arranging an annulment of their marriage and severing his ties with the Tale family.

            “How can it?” she whispered.

            “The Mystics aren’t going to give up.  They’ll chase down that slime, and get True back safe and sound.  You’ll see.”

            “Sure.”

            Jackpot stopped chopping and looked over.  “Grace.  You need to relax for a bit.  Go take a bath, or a nap.  I’ll come get you when dinner is done, okay?”  He leaned close, kissing her gently.  “Wind down for a bit.”

            “Okay.”  She sighed and pulled away.  “I’ll go take a bath.”

            He never noticed the second knife was gone.

            She plodded slowly up the stairs, towards the master suite.  But once she reached the doors, she…

            …kept going.

            She knew she shouldn’t.  There was no point.  But as her hoof reached the smaller door just past the master suite doors, she didn’t hesitate to push it open.

            The nursery was dark; nopony had bothered to turn on the lights.  She stepped inside, leaving the door open to allow a crack of light inside.

            Somepony had cleaned and organized, but the toys still cast long shadows across the room.  Grace looked through the growing haze of tears at the stuffed animals, the carved wooden Knights.  Even the chess set she’d had brought over from the family’s small manor; True’s nanny had said he liked playing with the pieces, even though he didn’t know the game yet.  She looked at the bed, sharply made.  He’d only spent a few nights there.  She looked at the dresser that she’d stocked with foal’s clothing as soon as she’d been told he’d be living with her from now on.

            A few days.  That’s all she’d had.  A few days to imagine.  To dream.   To pretend.

            She left the door ajar as she fled the room, her stomach clenching in dry heaves.

            Grace knew she’d probably been too loud when she’d slammed the master bedroom door shut.  She didn’t want to see Jackpot right now.  She didn’t want to see anypony but her nephew.  She sprinted into the bathroom, rushing over to the toilet.  It was a waste of effort; there was nothing left in her to spit up.

            Time floated away as she waited before the porcelain, sobbing and retching and catching her breath.  She didn’t know how long she crouched there, but when Grace finally managed the strength to rise to her hooves, her fur was matted with sweat.  She probably stank, she realized.  It had been a while since she’d had a proper bath.  She moved over to the bathtub, a thick, off-white monster with traditional brass feet at the bottom.  With a twist of her hoof, she turned on the water to its hottest setting.  After a moment of thought, she backed off the heat just a little.

            Grace stumbled back into the bedroom and towards her wardrobe.  Her dresses would probably be one of the first things to be sold; a shamed disgrace had no need for dozens of outfits.  But she could still save some of her favorites, at least?  She rifled through the silks and velvets, the linens and cottons.  Her hoof trailed past summer colors and winter colors, before she found a sleek black number.  One of Jackpot’s favorites to see her in.  She pulled it out and carried it into the bathroom.

            The tub was full, so she twisted the faucet off.  The window and mirrors were fogged with the steam that floated from the scalding hot water.  Grace reached out to touch the water, hissing with pain.  She could barely stand it.  With a small nod, she undressed, setting the black dress neatly on a stool next to the tub while she dropped the soiled, dirty outfit she’d worn for the last several days into a heap on the floor.

            She paused for a few brief moments, staring at the steaming water.  Then back at the heap of dirty clothes.  And what she’d wrapped inside.  Then, with a deep, calming breath, she stepped quickly into the uncomfortably hot water. 

            It burned.  The water wasn’t hot enough to do injury, but certainly hot enough to send waves of pain over her skin.  She hissed loudly, but didn't get out.  Water sloshed around the edges of the tub, and she forced herself to stay in, sinking down until the creeping, burning tingle covered her from her neck all the way down.  After a few minutes, she was used to the heat, even though it wasn’t exactly comfortable.

            Pain was good.  Pain was life.  She let herself sink even further, until she was fully immersed, closing her eyes to let the water slip over her face and her mane.  She stayed in until the burn in her lungs, the need for air, became too much to bear and she had to surface.

            Grace stayed in the water until it began to grow lukewarm.  Or maybe it was just in her head; the water had started out so hot, and now that it was a normal bathing temperature, it somehow felt…

            …numbing.

            Suddenly her hooves were shaking with the need for more.  To feel.  To hurt.  So much pain in so few days.  Maybe…

            She reached down to the pile.  To what she knew was there.  To what she’d put there, trying not to let Jackpot notice it was missing.  Trying not to think too hard.  She leaned up and over the edge of the tub, pawing through the limp clothing to find what lay inside.

            Grace sat back down in the tub, taking her prize with her.  The water sloshed about as she turned it over and over in her hooves, the light from the window causing the polished steel to flash in her eyes.  She ran the soft part of her hoof against the blade, feeling only the slightest of stings before red droplets splashed down into the tub.  Idly, she lifted her hoof in front of her face; she’d managed to cut deep enough that a steady stream of blood trickled down her hoof, towards the water.

            The brilliant red dripped into the water, dissipating in swirling wisps.  Bright red blood.  Splashing into the water.  Then turning into nothing.  There was nothing.  Nothing left.  She lifted the knife, resting it against the white fur of her foreleg.

            Chef had always kept his best knives razor sharp.

            More.  More splashes.  More pain.  More red.  More.  More!  MORE!  Tears and blood and sweat and life.  The knife flashed, over and over.

            There was sound at the door.  Pounding.  Jackpot.  It felt far away.  Unreal.  Not like the hurt.  Her forelegs hurt.  They felt weak.  She let them slip and fall, floating in the water.  Now it was red.  Splotches of red, dripping, dissolving into the water.  Disappearing.

            There was a loud clatter.  Something metallic hitting tile.  She’d dropped something onto the floor.  The pounding got louder, but Grace couldn’t seem to care.  She couldn’t seem to focus.  Her head was fuzzy.

            “Grace!  Open the door!”

            Haze and fog.  Red-on-white.  Swirling and dancing like steam.  Like drops of paint in a bucket.  Like…

            Grace slipped again under the surface of the water, closing her eyes.  Something broke.  The door burst open.
> Chapter 41
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 41


Letter, sent from Sir Whiskey Barrel, Knight Jubilant, to Sir Steadfast Word

Greetings, old friend.

I know you asked me to keep you informed of any strange weather patterns up here.  I wasn’t sure if this counted, but I thought you might find it interesting anyways.

This winter has been unusually cold and long, but nothing too out of the ordinary.  I’ve heard it’s been worse closer to New Canterlot City, but Stalliongrad ponies are a little heartier than you southern lilies.  (Just a bit of a joke, I assure you).  I’ve been in touch with Warm Front, our local pegasus weather manager, and she assures me that we should start seeing temperatures rise any day now.  If not, she and her team are prepared to work round the clock to clear out any unseasonable snow clouds that creep down from the mountains.

What has been interesting, however, is the dreams.  As winter continues to overstay its welcome, more and more ponies are coming to their confessors, reporting strange dreams about the weather.  The stories are consistent enough to be a little concerning.  Each one reports a stern but maternal voice, commanding them to be prepared.  It is a voice they implicitly trust within the context of the dream.  Each report contains a few different details, but what is consistent is the warning.  Store food.  Store emergency supplies.  Stock up on winter clothing.  Winter will be lasting much longer than usual.

Although Warm Front assures me there’s nothing to be concerned about, even she confessed to setting aside some dry goods and a few extra scarves.

This would all be idle curiosity if I hadn’t had the dream last night myself.  I can report to you, Steadfast, that I felt wholly comfortable and safe as the mare spoke to me.  I saw no image, other than a glowing silver moon, floating in the air.  It felt warm, like a campfire in the snow.  I don’t know how else to put it.

I am concerned, old friend.  I have ordered the confessors, and the Jubilant under my command, to begin purchasing wheat and hay in bulk.  If this all turns out to be some sort of fever dream, at least we’ll have emergency storage.  I’ve also ordered substantive infrastructure repairs to all the cathedrals, to shore up the insulation in the walls in case they need to be used as shelters from inclement weather.  I had to dip into my own family finances to do so, but what’s the point of being rich if you can’t throw your money around every so often?

Please let me know if any other city is experiencing something similar.  My local Mystics are all a bit close-mouthed about what’s going on, leaving me the only one giving the Diarchy’s ‘official’ position on the dreams.  I haven’t outright stated that this is a vision from the Diarchs, but that’s the conclusion that most ponies have come to, and I haven’t corrected them yet. In the absence of other instructions, I’m going to continue to let them believe.

On a personal note, I believe, Steadfast.  I think the Diarchs are warning me of something big coming.  I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to do my best to ensure Stalliongrad is prepared for it.

Warmest (get it?  Haha) regards, your friend,

Whiskey Barrel

1113 AF, Jubilation

Emberglow had thought that maybe there would be more talking, first.  More arguing.  She could almost hear the words, trapped just behind Mercy’s dismayed and heartbroken expression.  But Mercy’s eyes narrowed, and she lifted a hoof to begin casting. Emberglow followed suit, and soon the air glowed with the runes tracing behind their quick hooves.

There was a sudden crack of gunfire from her right as a bullet pounded into the stone floor. The marines behind Mercy flinched and sprang for cover, though the Knight herself still stood unshaken.

            	“I’ll keep their heads down while you deal with the Knight,” Terminus whispered beside her, his rifle pointed threateningly at the soldiers. Emberglow nodded, her gaze never leaving Mercy.

            	She finished her spell right as Mercy finished hers.  There was a flash of light, as magic coalesced into a yellow, glowing shield; not a bubble of protective force, but a stronger, more solid buckler attached to her hooves.  She might not want to harm Mercy, but she wasn’t about to stand by and let herself be killed.

            	Mercy had summoned a weapon of her own, a trio of blades glowing with sparkling yellow light, attached to her own hoof.  They had barely fully materialized before Mercy lunged, leaping high to come down from above, her blades whipping through the air.  Emberglow jerked her shield up, and the two summoned weapons clashed in a crackling hiss of competing magical energy.

            	“Why, Emberglow?”  This close, Emberglow could see the pain in Mercy’s eyes, along with unshed tears.  “You were one of our best.”

            	“You don’t have to fight me, Mercy.  Stand down.  Listen.”

            	“You can talk all you want on the ship back to the Diarchy,” Mercy shot back.  “I’m taking you back.”

            	“I’m not…” Emberglow grunted, shoving hard with her shield.  She pushed with her legs, her wings fluttering for leverage, and barely managed to shove the earth pony off her.  “Not going back ever!”  Visions of Brightblade’s face danced in her mind, and she had to try not to shiver in fear.

            	A shot rang out over the clash of their weapons, and Emberglow spared a split-second glance towards Terminus.  The three marines were pinned down around corners, and Terminus was slowly backing away, gaining range while the muzzle of his rifle was pointed her way.  He was looking for a shot at Mercy, she realized.

            	The image appeared in her head of her old friend, her mentor, her very first therapist, still and bleeding from a shot through the heart.  Suddenly Emberglow had to swallow a lump in her throat, and she shifted slowly, putting herself between Terminus and her old friend.

            	“Emberglow…” Terminus called out in protest.

            	“I don’t want to see you hurt, Mercy,” Emberglow said.  Mercy backed away a few steps, before lunging again, a darting motion that Emberglow was nearly unprepared for.  Mercy’s claws flashed in the sun, swiping low towards Emberglow’s legs.  She had to dance back, swinging wildly with her shield to try and fend off the other mare.

            	“Then surrender.  We can go back to Steadfast.  Sort this out.  You can’t…”

            	“You heard what Rarity said, Mercy.  He had me tortured.”

            	“Emberglow…”  Mercy’s voice was pleading, but she circled to Emberglow’s blind side.  Emberglow was forced to backtrack, to spin to keep Mercy in sight.  Mercy’s strikes were quick and shallow, but Emberglow had to stay moving.  She had to take the offensive, or Mercy would simply wear her out.

            	“Just tell me one thing,” Emberglow said as she surged forward, swiping with her shield to force Mercy to step backwards.  “Did you bring Brightblade with you or not?”

            	“He came with—”

            	“Then you didn’t really come to talk, did you!” Emberglow’s shriek tore through Mercy’s words.  Rage pumped the adrenaline through her, and she slammed her shield against her opponent over and over.  “You were supposed to be my friend, Mercy!”

            	“I a-am!” Mercy protested, stumbling back.  Emberglow slammed hard against the hoof that carried Mercy’s spell, and there was a meaty crunch.  Mercy fell back onto her haunches with a gasp of pain, her weapons evaporating into yellow mist.  Emberglow raised her shield to slam down once again.

Into whatever houses I enter, I will enter to help the sick, and I will do no harm or injustice to them.

            	It was enough to stop Emberglow dead in her motion.  Her shield flickered and died, motes of spent magic dissipating into the air.  Mercy looked up at her, eyes fearful and in pain.  Emberglow stepped back, horrified.

            	“Emberglow, I…” Mercy whispered.

            	“Emberglow!  Trouble!”  The cry came from up above.  Terminus was airborne, several lengths above the houses around them.  Emberglow spared Mercy one last glance before launching herself into the air. 

Terminus was holding his rifle with one hoof, the other trailing runes through the air to form a shield spell.  Emberglow glanced down.  The three marines were still cowering behind cover, but they’d begun to peek out, rifle muzzles leading.  It was only a matter of time before bullets started whizzing their way.

As soon as she was alongside Terminus, and the shield was in place and glowing, Terminus pointed.  Emberglow had to squint; there were flashes of light, but with only one eye there was nothing she could make out.

“What…”

“Sorry, I forgot,” Terminus called.  “C’mon.  Somepony is fighting.  Somepony with blue magic.”

Emberglow shot off before Terminus could even call out in surprise, wings pumping as she powered herself towards the battle.  Terminus caught up a few breaths later, and she heard a few halfhearted shots from the marines below.  They never even bounced off the shield.

“They were all earth ponies, it will take them a few minutes to weave through the streets and alleys to catch up,” Terminus said, as the two of them barreled towards the fight up ahead.  Squat homes flashed by underneath; they were a blur.

When Emberglow was finally close enough to see what was happening below, the sight chilled her.  The young squire, Chocolate Chip, was sprawled out in the street, his eyes closed and his limbs twitching.

Rarity was backed against the rear wall of a short stucco house, her horn glowing and her eyes alight with fear.  Closing in were two Knights menacing her with spears, their lavender armor dusty from the dirt on the road that had been kicked up in the fight.  One of the Knights, she recognized as Joyful Noise, the Mystic who’d brought the motic scanning equipment to Manehatten.

The other Knight was Brightblade.

Terror and fury washed away conscious thought, and Emberglow was diving before she realized she’d made a conscious choice.  She twisted her wings at the last second, ducking her head to the side to slam into Brightblade with her shoulder.  Metal armor screamed as it screeched against metal armor, and both ponies slammed into the ground.  The world spun, and Emberglow came to a stop a few yards away from Brightblade.  His spear clattered to the dirt between them.

Both of them began struggling to their hooves.  Brightblade’s face was awash with surprise and anger.  Emberglow noticed with a tiny amount of satisfaction that he, too, had a damaged eye, hidden behind an eyepatch.

“Emberglow,” he breathed.  “There you are.”

Both of them lunged for the fallen spear.

I will do no harm.

            	It was her own voice in her head, and Emberglow forced herself forward, past her own doubts and fear.  Rarity was in danger.  She’d worry about her oath later.

They reached the spear at the same time, seizing it with their hooves in a desperate split-second tug of war.  This close, eye to eye, Emberglow could see a maelstrom of emotion, hate and glee, fear and bloodlust.  He lashed out with a free hoof, catching her on the muzzle just below her good eye.  She flinched away, and he shoved the spear forward, striking the wooden haft against her head so that she fell away, leaving him with the spear.  He quickstepped between her and Rarity.

            	“I hoped,” he hissed.  “Hoped and prayed I would find you here, Emberglow.”  Emberglow tried to move to the side, but he shuffled to bar her.  Thankfully Terminus was there, standing between Joy and Rarity.  He was using his rifle like the shaft of a spear, blocking Joy’s stabs.  “The Saints have granted me a second chance.”

            	Emberglow tried to drown out the hunger in his voice.  “Rarity?  Are you okay?”

            	“For now, darling.”  Rarity’s voice sounded strained.  “But poor Chip is wounded.  He needs help.”

            	Emberglow slowly backed away from Brightblade, towards Chip’s limp form.  Brightblade watched her warily, his good eye locked on her.  She spared a quick, darting glance down at the young squire.  He was breathing, and a bruised lump was forming on his head, just to the right of his horn. 

            	“Chip?” Emberglow whispered.  “You okay?”  She couldn’t spare the time for a more detailed exam, as her attention was still focused on the slowly advancing Brightblade.

            	“L-lady Emberglow… I tried…”

            	“Shh, stay still.  Terminus and I will take care of this.”

            	“Emberglow.  Spare your friends some hurt.  Surrender, and the pegasus and this colt can go free.  Steadfast only wants you and the lie.”

            	“I’m right here, you scurrilous snake!” Rarity snarled.  “And neither one of us will be going anywhere with you, so you can just turn around and crawl back to your master.”

            	“We can do this the difficult way, if you insist.” Brightblade didn’t even turn to look at Rarity.  “You don’t have to be unharmed.  Or conscious.  And your heretic friends can all be dead, for all I care!”

            	The tip of his spear darted and danced wildly as he thrust it forward; not at Emberglow, but at the poor limp colt at her hooves.  She did the only thing she could, and lunged in front of spear tip, flailing desperately for the weapon with her free hooves.

            	It worked, in part.  Emberglow interposed herself between Chip and the spear.  The tip of the spear slammed against her peytral, scoring a deep scratch in the white paint as it slid along it.

            	“Where’s your weapon, Knight?” Brightblade hissed, shoving against the weapon to push Emberglow away.  “You’ve gotten sloppy since you turned traitor.”

            	Emberglow seethed, but she ignored him, focusing instead on the end of his spear.  It darted back, then forward again, lunging this time towards her blind eye.  Emberglow ducked underneath the thrust, but it was a feint.  As her head ducked down to dodge the spear, his hoof shot up, crashing into her jaw.

            	Emberglow saw stars, with pain wrenching through her jaw.  She managed to keep her hooves, turning her head back just in time to see the spear descending again.  She held up a hoof to try and fend it off.

            	Suddenly a flash of cerulean light came from behind Brightblade, and he stumbled forward.  Rarity’s horn glowed brightly, and her eyes burned with fury.

            	“I’ll teach you to ignore me, you… you vicious brute!” Rarity crowed.  Emberglow spared a glance at Terminus; he was still going tete-a-tete with Joy, both of their hooves wrapped around her spear as they struggled together.  “You leave those two alone!”

            	“Tell me, Emberglow,” Brightblade turned sideways, so he could try to keep an eye on both Rarity and Emberglow.  Rarity fired another blast from her horn, but this time Brightblade leapt aside.  “How easy was it to believe whatever deception the Discordant cooked up for you?  Were you really so ready to believe this fake Saint?”

            	“I’ll have you know, it’s your Saint that’s fake.  Of all the ridiculous things.  Me, some sort of bigot?” Rarity snorted.  “In case you couldn’t tell, I am a unicorn.”

            	“Of course,” Brightblade continued, ignoring Rarity.  “I can see why.  You were probably looking for an excuse.  It’s not hard to see why you were so easily duped.”

            	Emberglow tried to drown him out.  His earlier punch had left her head reeling, but she tried desperately to focus.  There had to be a spell that would help, that could give them some space to retreat. 

            	“After all, she is beautiful,” Brightblade said mockingly.  “Is that all it took?  Some dolled-up slut lifting her tail for you, and you crumbled like the weak mare I always knew you were.”

            	Emberglow blew air out of her nostrils in an angry huff.  He was trying to make her angry.  It was obvious.  The problem was, it was working.  She could see Rarity’s face, flush with anger at the insult.  Rarity fired off another blast from her horn, which Brightblade dodged with almost contemptuous ease.  Emberglow lifted her hoof to start casting.

            	“No you don’t, bitch,” Brightblade snarled, and she couldn’t help but flinch away from the fury she heard, the familiar spite and anger.  It was just like the insults he would throw right before he struck her, back when…

            	Another cerulean beam flashed between them, forcing Brightblade back.  Emberglow looked up gratefully, holding onto her concentration enough to finish her runes.

            	It was a guess; healing magic usually required diagnosis first; casting without knowing what was wrong with the patient was, at best, a shot in the dark.  But as the runes came into shape in the air above her, Emberglow knew she’d guessed right; a glow of motes surrounded Chocolate Chip’s bruised head, and his eyes shot open, focusing instantly as he groaned in pain.

            	“Get up, squire,” she said.  Chip didn’t hesitate, standing up on unsure hooves and shaking his head to clear it.

            	“Wha…”

            	“You were concussed.  Head injury.  I healed you.”

            	“F-feels weird…”

            	“Focus, squire.  Eyes forward.”  Rarity was forcing Brightblade back with a series of blasts from her horn, but she was sweating and breathing heavily.  When one of her blasts did connect, it didn’t do much; Brightblade was forced back a bit, grunting in pain, but didn’t appear too injured.

            	“L-Lady Emberglow!  I’m so sorry, I didn’t see where he c-came from!” Chip’s voice was panicked.  “I…”

            	“No time, squire,” Emberglow cut through harshly.  “Take Rarity and go.”  Emberglow could hear the thundering of hooves from behind them, and dared a glance.

            	Running up the street, in a cloud of dust kicked up by their hooves, was Mercy Song and the three marines.  They were out of time.

            	“Go, Chip!” Emberglow screamed, and the squire burst into motion, dashing towards Rarity.  Emberglow lunged at Brightblade, who was looking behind her with a smug grin.  He raised his spear to meet her charge, but she jerked to the side.  Rarity’s blasts had forced him back enough that she could dart between him and her, giving Chip a clear path.

            	Once again she raised her hoof to begin casting, but nothing came.  No options, no ideas.  Panic flowed into her mind and clenched her throat and stomach.  

Brightblade paced forward slowly, spear tip shining in the light, as Emberglow backed slowly towards Terminus and the two unicorns.  With three Knights and three marines closing fast, they were outnumbered.

            	“I don’t suppose you can teleport?” Terminus whispered softly to Chip and Rarity.  He’d backed away from Joy, the space between them lit by the shell of his own shield spell.  Chip shook his head with a gulp.

            	“Spellcasting was never my forte, darling,” Rarity said.  “What should…”

            	“Emberglow?” Terminus said.  “Time for a feathery taxi service?”

            	Emberglow flared her wings and tried to leap into the air, but a sudden sound of movement from her blind side gave her just enough time to turn.  Brightblade had sprinted into a tackle and leapt as well, high enough to slam into her and send them both tumbling to the ground.

            	“I’m not letting you get away, traitor,” he growled, his muzzle close to her ear.  “We have a lot to talk about.  And I owe you for what your heretic friend did to my eye.”

            	He hadn’t been this close to her since the camp.  Since the tent.  Since she had been bound, helpless under his control.  The smell of him, the bitter acrid scent of his sweat, the feel of his hooves on her set her trembling with terror and rage.  Emberglow flailed about in a blind panic, hooves lashing out wildly.  One impacted against his stomach, and she heard the huff of pain as she drove the air from his lungs.  Another slammed against the side of his face, just under his eye patch.  He groaned, falling to the side, and she kicked him again, this time aiming between his hind legs.  Brightblade gasped and shriveled up around himself protectively.

            	His head, however, was unprotected.  Prone.  Laying against the dirt.  A billion images flashed through her mind.

            	Brightblade, holding a rod in his hooves as he prepared to swing.

            	Brightblade, sneering at her as she panted and wept in pain.

            	Brightblade, his eyes half-lidded with silent contempt as he spat on her.

            	Brightblade, panting and sweating with exertion as he’d just finished a torture session.

            	Brightblade, his cruel smirk glowing with the light of his gauntlet as he healed her, getting ready for the next interrogation.

            	She didn’t even realize she was screaming.  Emberglow was reared up on her hind hooves, her forehooves in the air, ready to slam down.  To shut him up forever.  To beat the life out of his eyes, and render them dull, dark…

            	And safe.

…I will do no harm.

            	“…berglow!  Miss Emberglow!”  Rarity’s cry broke her free from her haze, and her hooves fell, harmlessly, in front of Brightblade’s face.  He gave a small whimper of what might have been relief or fear, but she didn’t care. 

Emberglow leapt over him, spreading her wings and firing herself into the sky a few hooves high, swooping back with a powerful flap of her wings until she hovered right above Rarity.  “Sorry about this!”  She reached down and wrapped her hooves around Rarity’s barrel and jerked her into the air.

            	Brightblade’s face twisted with rage, and he lunged to his hooves and seized his spear from where it had clattered on the ground.  While Emberglow was beating her wings to get her and her cargo airborne, he charged, spear first, aiming for Rarity’s unprotected torso.  Emberglow twisted in the air so that his spear found her armor instead of Rarity’s flesh.  The tip slid along the armor before finding the seam between her peytral and criniere, piercing her chest.  She gasped in pain but pumped her wings, trying to pull out of his reach.  The spear was jammed between the metal plates of her armor.

            	Brightblade tried to hang onto the spear, standing on his hind hooves to try to hold her back, but Emberglow fought through the pain to pull herself into the skies.  Finally he let go with a curse, dropping to the street while she carried his spear away with her. 

            	“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Emberglow chanted as she dragged Rarity towards the clouds.  For her part, at least, Rarity tried to remain still, but Emberglow heard the mare gasp in pain.  “Oh!  Did he…”

            	“I’m fine, darling.  Your armor is just pinching a bit.  Get us clear, then we can rearrange ourselves.”

            	Emberglow glanced behind her.  Terminus was in hot pursuit, carrying Chip in his own hooves.  He had placed himself between Emberglow and the marines, who were now raising their weapons.  Shots rang out, shattering the air with their explosions, and Emberglow saw the flashes of light as the bullets slammed against Terminus’ shield.

            	“Eyes forward, Knight!  Fly hard!” Terminus ordered.  It broke her out of her worry and panic to have somepony, specifically somepony who technically outranked her, giving her orders. She whipped her head back forward and flapped her wings as hard as she could, zipping low over the houses and buildings.  “We’re just lucky they didn’t have pegasi.”

            	“Yet,” Rarity muttered darkly.  “I’m sure they can scrounge some up somewhere.”

            	“Don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe.”  Emberglow’s whisper was strained with pain.  Her chest ached, and she could feel the trickle of blood running down her side.

            	“Me?  What about you?” Rarity hissed.  “You’re bleeding!”

            	“We can worry about that later,” Emberglow grunted, shunting the pain aside as she did her best to hold tight to her precious cargo.

            	“Emberglow!  We have pursuit!” Terminus shouted.  Emberglow had a twinge of déjà vu; it was just like when they’d escaped from the camp.  “We’re changing direction, don’t head back to the house!”

            	“Where to?”

            	“Veer east, outside of town!” he shouted back.  She could barely hear him, but she nodded.  “We’ll set down as soon as we’re a few blocks away!”

            	Emberglow probably could have gone several minutes of flight, even though it wouldn’t have been very comfortable.  The spear wound in her chest ached, and it was deep, but pain was pain.  She ignored it and flew.

            	“Set down, and run!” he called out.

            	“Yes, sir!” She swooped down to the street.  The stuck spear clattered to the ground, and without thinking Emberglow scooped it up.  Even with her oath, there was a strange sort of comfort at being armed again.

This part of town was a little more populated; this close to the edge of Jubilation, there was traffic on the large road coming into the town.  Zebras, with wagons and carts, looked up in shock as Emberglow gently set Rarity down on the stone before coming to a clumsy landing herself.  She spared one second to glance at her wound; it was hard to tell how bad it was underneath her armor and gambeson, but she could see a wet red spot on the fabric, and a small trickle of blood leaked out from between her armor and her skin.

            	Rarity rushed over to help, but Terminus landed right next to them.

            	“No time.  Get moving.” He spared a concerned glance at her injury, but Emberglow nodded and broke into a run.  Rarity yelped in protest, galloping alongside her.

            	“Terminus, darling, Emberglow is wounded.  What…”

            	“I’m fine, Rarity,” Emberglow said.  Honestly, the short hard flight had barely left her winded, though breathing hurt.  Each exhausted gasp of air sent a fresh stab of fire into her chest, where she’d been stabbed.  She ignored it as she ran.  “Let’s just get free, and we can worry about injuries.”  That reminded her.  “Chip?  How’s your head feeling?”

            	“Hurts,” Chip panted.  Emberglow slowed enough so that she was galloping beside the teenager.  It would be nearly impossible to perform an examination while running, but she did her best to look into his eyes, looking for ongoing symptoms of a concussion.

            	“You feeling dizzy or nauseous?”

            	“N-no,” Chip said, after a moment of thought.

            	“Tell me if you are, okay?  Doctor’s orders.”  Chip glanced at her and nodded.

            	They wove their way through carts of vegetables and produce and crafted goods, and the confused and angry zebras hauling them into the city.  Emberglow could see an archway suspended between two huge sandstone pillars; the gate leading out of the city.  It was only a few blocks away.  She glanced at Chip by her right side; he was panting, and his brow was furrowed.

            	“Just a little further, squire,” she encouraged.  “You’ve got this.”  He nodded, but she could see the pain and fatigue dragging at him.

            	Emberglow glanced behind her; the skies were clear.  Whatever pursuit had followed them after the battle was now no longer in the air behind them.  Ahead, the local zebras were clearing out of their way, some with disgruntled shouts, but most with wary expressions on their face as the two Knights, one dripping blood, barreled through the crowd towards the archway.

            	Just outside the walls of Jubilation, the city didn’t exactly end.  There was a tent city on the other side of the wall, built with sandstone bricks piled just higher than Emberglow’s head.  The tent city was a rainbow palette of colors. There were hundreds of tents of travelling merchants who couldn’t afford to find lodging within the city, staying outside the walls and carting their market goods inside every day.  Emberglow thanked her lucky stars that it wasn’t peak hour — the crowd of zebras trying to enter the city would have been a nightmare to try and navigate.

            	The four of them ran until they were well outside the large concentration of tents, where only a few small cloth structures stood.  Emberglow even allowed herself to hope, to feel the elation of victory, before a figure zipped out of the sky, dropping down in front of them with a puff of dirt.  She was followed by two others.

            	“Hold!” the leader demanded authoritatively.  She was a middle aged pegasus mare, dressed in the uniform of Jubilation’s guard.  Both of her subordinates were pegasi as well, though one of them had painted zebra stripes on his flank.  “Stop, by authority of the Jubilation Council!”

            	Emberglow skidded to a halt, gripping her spear.  It felt both comforting and alien to her; she didn’t know what she’d do if she were forced to fight with it again.

            	“Please don’t stand in our way,” Terminus called out calmly, standing beside Emberglow.  “If you know what we are, you know what we can do.  Don’t force us to harm you.”

            	“We don’t do threats, Discordant,” the mare said.  “You’re in Jubilation.  I have the authority to arrest you for assault, disturbing the peace, public nuisance, and bearing weapons without permit.  Please turn and come with us back to the city.”

            	Emberglow tried her best to size up the mare.  She looked determined, but frightened.  She clearly didn’t want to have this confrontation, either.  “Don’t do this, ma’am,” Emberglow said.  “We assaulted nopony, we were only defending ourselves and our friends.  We have wounded.  Can I…” she motioned to Chocolate Chip, who was slumped behind her.

            	“Keep your hooves where I can see them, Knight.  Where…” the guardsmare’s eyes widened suddenly, and she gasped.  “Chip?”

            	“H-hey, Aunt Dart,” Chip stammered.  He tried to lift a hoof to wave, but it was weak.  Emberglow turned to face him, her gauntlet darting through the air to form the runes of a diagnosis spell.

            	Information flooded her mind.  Chip was exhausted, slightly concussed, with two cracked ribs.  No wonder he was struggling to draw a full breath.

            	“I’m going to heal him now,” Emberglow said over her shoulder at the guardsmare.  It wasn’t a request.  She nodded dumbly, and Emberglow ignored her to begin casting again.  Her gauntlet was low; the third yellow light was blinking as she began the spell to repair his ribs.  “Terminus?  Do you have some water?”  He shook his head.  “How about you, Officer… Dart?”  She didn’t turn away from her work, but she could tell from the silence behind her that she’d surprised the pegasus with her question.

            	She finished her spell, and Chip gasped at the discomfort of the magic flooding his chest.   Somepony trotted up alongside her, and Emberglow glanced up.  It was the Jubilation officer, holding a waterskin.  Emberglow pointed to Chip.

            	“I told you, kid.  You mix up with these dangerous types, you’re gonna get hurt,” she said softly as she offered him the water, which he took with his magic and gulped down greedily.  “You know you can still join the guard, right?”

            	“Sorry, auntie,” Chip gasped between gulps.  “Gotta f-follow my heart.”

            	“Of course,” the officer sighed.  She looked at Emberglow.  “How is he?”

            	“He’s okay, now.  Rest would be ideal.”  Emberglow tried not to be worried.  This mare was playing nice for now, but she was there to arrest them.  “If we get…” she cut off with a hiss, as a shift of her leg shot pain down her side, reminding her of her own wound.

            	“You’re wounded?” Dart asked, peering at the blood staining Emberglow’s white armor.

            	“Yes,” Emberglow bit back a sarcastic remark.  “What did you think?”  The mare’s eyes narrowed, and she flushed slightly.  “I’m fine, though.  As long as nopony stops us again.”

            	“Are you going to try to arrest us?” Terminus asked.  His tone was calm, but there was enough of an emphasis on the word ‘try’ that the soldiers all bristled.  Dart shook her head.

            	“I’m not going to arrest anypony,” Dart said slowly.  “Because I didn’t see the ponies I was sent to arrest.”  She glanced at her subordinates.  “Did you?”

            	“Ma’am…” one of them said warningly.

            	“Private, I’m not going to arrest Chip.  You know him!” She waved a hoof at the young squire.  “Look, I know what our orders are.  I heard them as well as you.  But we all know it’s horseapples.  Just because the council wants to get all cozy with the Diarchy doesn’t mean we’re going to start jailing our friends and family.  Got it?”

            	“But…”

            	“Besides, they’re Knights, and we’re in their way.  Do you think they’re going to hesitate to cut through us if we get in their way?”  Both other guards paled.

            	“Ma’am, the sergeant said…”

            	“I’ve been serving the Jubilation guard for decades now, Private.  If they wanna fire me over something stupid, let ‘em.  I’ve got some savings.  If you really feel your conscience is saying to turn me in, go for it.”  She turned towards Chip and Emberglow, her eyes narrowing with warning.  “And you.  Whatever mess you’ve got Chip tangled up in, you get him out. He’s a good colt.”  Chip actually managed to smile at the compliment.

            	She gave both of her underlings a significant glance, then coiled her legs to leap into the air.  At the last second, though, she hesitated.  “Diarchy ground forces have been patrolling the area around Jubilation.  If they get too close, we’ll chase them off, but they’ve been avoiding confrontation.  Stay out of their way.”  With that, she took off, and her soldiers followed quickly, taking formation behind her.  Emberglow watched them go.

            	“Your aunt?”

            	“Not by blood,” Chip said.  “Spear D-dart is really just a family friend.  I’m not old enough to remember, but when Mom fled the D-diarchy our ship got attacked just in the harbor.”  He pointed to the east.  “Spear D-dart was one of the soldiers Jubiliation sent to fish us out of the ocean.  I was b-barely able to talk.”  He shook his head sadly.  “All the p-ponies in Jubilation used to be so close.  This is d-dividing us.”

            	“C’mon,” Terminus interrupted.  “Let’s talk as we walk.  We need to get clear of the walls and far enough away that I can contact the others safely.”  The four of them began to trot as Chip spoke.”

            	“A while ago, some numbskull on the J-jubilation Council got bit signs in his eyes.  Thought that maybe she could get rich if we got in b-bed with the Diarchy.  So she started p-pushing for things.  Like easing restrictions on the number of soldiers and Knights they c-could have in their embassy, or the laws keeping their missionaries from harassing p-people in p-public.” He shuddered.  “Just the other d-day I had a street p-preacher trying to whip up a mob against me, b-because of my horn.”

            	“That sounds terrifying, darling,” Rarity breathed.

            	“Eh,” Chip shrugged.  “I guess.  It d-didn’t get far, the guards broke it up.  They’re still on the side of p-peace and justice, for now.  But it’s getting worse.  Some of the non-unicorn expatriates, the earth p-ponies and p-pegasi, are starting to wonder.”

            	“How could they?” Rarity hissed.  “They should all know what you all have been through.”

            	“Not everypony who l-lives here is a first-generation escapee from the D-diarchy, like me,” Chip said.  “Some of them have b-been here for generations.  I guess you tend to f-forget what it’s like when you’ve lived your whole l-life in peace.”

            	“I thought you said you were too young to remember when you came over?” Terminus asked gently.

            	Chip nodded.  “I am.  My m-mom’s not.  She still w-wakes up with nightmares, s-sometimes.”

    


*   *   *   *   *


            	They found a small hollow behind a large rock, nestled up against a wide stream that separated them from a vast plain of grass dancing slowly in the breeze. Once they had settled down, Chip forced Emberglow to remove her peytral and her criniere so he could wash and bandage her wound.  It was small, but deep.  She was actually surprised to find the young colt was adept with his magic when it came to stitching wounds.  It was enough that even Rarity complimented him.

            	“I used to help my m-mom mend clothing,” he explained when she asked.

            	Meanwhile, Terminus had quickly cast a series of long-distance communication spells.  They weren’t good for sending complex messages, but he could at least alert Heartwing as to where they were, and the broad strokes of what had happened. 

            	After, there was nothing left to do but wait for word from Heartwing, and waiting meant Emberglow’s thoughts had time to catch up to her.  She didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts, to consider just how close she’d come to violating her brand new oath.

It’s not like oaths mean much to you, do they?  You already broke most of your oaths of Knighthood, after all.

            	She shook her head violently.  The nagging voice in the back of her head, the one that usually sounded like Gadget, was growing fainter, but it still managed to derail her thoughts from time to time, as well as maintaining it’s firm hold in her nightmares.  The past few nights on the ship had been bad; Topaz had warned her that distance might make it more difficult for them to meet in her dreams, which also meant it was more difficult for Topaz to intervene in Emberglow’s nightmares.

            	“Emberglow?  Chip?  Rarity?” Terminus’ voice broke through her dark thoughts, and she glanced up to see his gauntlet glowing.  “Word from Heartwing.”  She tried not to sigh in relief.  “They also encountered Diarchy Knights.  It seems they were looking for us.”

            	“Is everypony okay?” Chip perked up, his expression worried.

            	Terminus nodded.  “As far as I can tell.  They’re making their way here.  Nopony wants to lead them back to Iodine and Bolero’s house.  We’re to be ready to flee as soon as they arrive.”

            	“F-flee?” Chip stammered.

            	“Not you,” Terminus corrected.  “Willow, Justice, and Chip will be staying behind, laying low in Jubilation.  The rest of us will be leaving town for a bit, hopefully to draw their attention east.”

            	“East?” Chip looked confused.  “There’s nothing to the east.  Just days and days of savannah.”

            	“There’s something out there Heartwing wants to look into,” Terminus said.  “I suppose we can come back later to try again for the Element Celeano hid near here, once things have calmed down.”

            	That was fine with Emberglow.  She had no desire to run into Mercy again, or Brightblade.

You’re sure that’s just because you don’t want to feel guilty about what you nearly did?

            	“Be ready to leave as soon as they get here.  It’s possible they’re being chased.  The messenger spell only allows a few words, and Heartwing seemed tense.”

            	“How will he know where to find us?”

            	“We’re going to wait a few minutes, then one of you two will send up a flare with your horn.  If nothing happens, we’ll do it again a few minutes later, until they find us.  Speaking of which…” Terminus nodded expectantly at Rarity.

            	“Do you have a color preference, darling?” Rarity asked with a tilt of her eyebrows, and Terminus chuckled slightly, shaking his head.  Her horn glowed blue, and a bright line of sparks shot into the sky.

            	The ponies watched it soar into the clear air.  They were silent as it burst into sparks, like a firework, before they relaxed as best they could and started to wait.

            	Three more times Chip and Rarity shot sparks into the air, every few minutes just like Terminus had said.  Emberglow was beginning to grow nervous.  What if Heartwing and the others had been taken?  As much as Rarity was supposed to somehow be the leader of this adventure, he was the one with the knowledge and the plan.  If he were lost or killed, what…

            	“There,” Terminus had been watching from a perch on top of the large rock.  He flared his wings and rose into the air a few hooves high, waving with one hoof.  “I see them.  They’re not being followed.”  He dropped back down behind the rock, and Emberglow had to fight the urge to glance for herself.  She felt impatient and restless, and still a little more sore than she’d like.

            	It wasn’t a long wait.  Heartwing and the two mare Knights rounded the boulder a minute later, out of breath.  All three bore some sort of wounds, and Emberglow immediately leapt to her hooves and rushed over to Willow, who looked the worst, with her fur and armor marred with patches of blood and a large, bruised looking black eye already swelling.  A particularly nasty looking gash had stained the armor near her flank bright red.

            	“What happened to you three?” Terminus was also on his hooves, lunging over to embrace Heartwing tight enough that he grunted with pain.

            	“My fault, entirely,” he admitted.  Emberglow listened while she began going over Willow’s wounds.  She mostly had shallow cuts and scrapes, though the wound by her flank would need stitches.  She’d used much of her battery; it was probably prudent to save her power in case of more emergency wounds.

Emberglow moved on to Justice, but the old Knight waved her away impatiently.  With a shrug, she moved back to Heartwing as he continued to speak.  “We got too close to the Diarchy Embassy.  I was trying to get a look through one of their windows, but I tripped an alarm ward and the whole place lit up with guards and soldiers.  We would’ve been in trouble if more Knights had been at home.”  His own wounds were even more superficial than Willow’s.

            	“No.  They were out, looking for us,” Terminus said.  “At least, I think so.”

            	“Here specifically for us?” Heartwing asked. 

            	“I think so.  One of them found us in the Gold Run.  A Knight Radiant, who knew Emberglow.”

            	“She’s an old friend,” Emberglow said, then cringed at the rush of grief.  “Was an old friend.  I…” Her mind was still replaying the stunted conversation she’d had with Mercy.  She didn’t want to talk about it.  She just wanted to get lost in her job, in healing.  But they had to know.  “She said she had a message from Steadfast, but then admitted they had orders to take me, and Rarity, back to him alive.”

            	“Do you think he knows about you and the Element of Honesty?” Heartwing asked.

            	Emberglow nodded.  “It reacted a few times when we spoke last, before he had me…” She swallowed.  “Before he had me arrested and tortured.  Also… Brightblade is here.”

            	“The brute who brutalized poor Emberglow before,” Rarity said.  The sympathy and care in her voice bolstered Emberglow.  She retrieved the first aid kit she kept in her saddlebags and threaded a needle to begin stitching Willow’s wound while they spoke.

            	“The last I heard from Cobalt, news of Rarity isn’t widespread in New Canterlot City,” Heartwing mused.  Emberglow stared at him.  It seemed to come out of nowhere.  “So Steadfast knows about Rarity, after he saw her in the camp, but he hasn’t announced her presence yet.”  A slow grin spread over his muzzle.  “That’s why he wanted Rarity.  He’s trying to keep a muzzle on things.  Keep you hushed up.”

            	“Meanwhile, you’ve been showing me off at every opportunity,” Rarity noted.  “At the camp, through town here.  You have a plan?”

            	“A bit,” Heartwing admitted.  “Rumor and gossip are often a better path to spreading truth than grand announcements and press releases.  The soldiers who saw you at the camp on the griffon border?  The Knights who saw you today?  They’re not going to forget it.  And it’s going to eat at them.  And some of them might even tell their friends.”

            	“So…” Willow interrupted, flinching as Emberglow began her stitching.  “I didn’t screw up?”

            	“Whatever are you talking about, darling?” Rarity asked.

            	“I was sure it was because of me.  That you three were attacked.”  Willow blushed and looked away.  “My great plan to parade us about, and remind the zebras that they owe us.”  She snorted.  “Some strategist I am.”

            	“It was a good plan,” Heartwing protested.  “We just didn’t know they were here already looking for us.”

            	“But how did they know to look for us?” Emberglow asked, freezing in her stitching as a chill settled in her stomach.

            	“We assumed they were amassing here to look for the Element we were looking for.  Maybe they reasoned this was the first place we’d look, and set a trap?”

            	“Could be both,” Willow mused.  “We can look into it.”

            	“You’ll have to,” Heartwing said.  “We’re going to draw their attention away from Jubilation.  If I’m right, I have another lead on one of the other Elements, in a village far to the east.  Nyumba Ya Joka.”

            	“So… splitting up?” Willow asked.

            	“We are.  The four of us will kick up a bit of a ruckus, draw their eyes.  Willow, Justice, and Chip will stay here and lay low.”  Heartwing gave them all a solemn look.  “You can do some digging if you want, but stay safe.  We might be gone several weeks.  It should give some time for things to calm down, and our trail to grow cold.  Maybe they’ll even give up.”  He didn’t sound too hopeful.

            	“If you want to make a fuss, a local guard told us that there are Diarchy patrols throughout the area,” Terminus offered.  “It should be easy enough to find one and draw their attention.”

            	“That’s our plan, then.”

                
> Chapter 42
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 42


Long range telegraph exchange between Camp Moonlight Glory, two miles outside Jubilation, and New Canterlot City. 

            	TARGETS FLED JUBILATION.  IN PURSUIT.  DESTINATION IS ZEBRA VILLAGE NAMED NYUMBA YA JOKA.  NO INTELLIGENCE AVAILABLE, PLEASE ADVISE.

Response included.

            	AVOID VILLAGE AT ALL COSTS.  PROTECTED BY CLASS E DRAGON, EXTREMELY HOSTILE TO DIARCHY FORCES.  PICK UP TRAIL OUTSIDE OF VILLAGE.



Zebrican Savannah, 1113 AF

            	“So are we clear?” Terminus asked Emberglow from their position perched one of the rare clouds that floated high above the North Zebrican savannah.

            	“Nopony’s following us.  It looks like they broke off pursuit,” Emberglow said.  “Hang on, I’d like to be sure.”  She lifted her gauntlet, and quickly drew a series of runes in the air.

            	“Long Grain’s Far Sight?” Terminus asked, and Emberglow nodded.  “It still works with only one eye?”  She nodded again.  He cast his own spell, and the two ponies peered through the sun-bleached terrain, now with vision enhanced by Knight magic.  She couldn’t see any sign of Brightblade or Mercy Song, or any of their soldiers.  “So… was that your first experience running into somepony you knew from the other side?”

            	“Besides when Brightblade beat me near to death for several days straight?” Emberglow bit back drolly, then flinched at her own rudeness.  “Yeah.  Sorry.  I didn’t mean to…”

            	“Don’t worry about it,” Terminus interrupted.  “I get it.  My first was on a mission years ago.  It can be really disturbing.”

            	“Yeah…” Emberglow breathed.

            	“Do you want to tell me about her?”

            	“Mercy Song was my hero,” Emberglow admitted.  “She was perfect.  Everything I ever wanted to be.  I hoped…” she trailed off into silence.

            	“Yeah.  I know,” Terminus said.

            	“So,” Emberglow said thoughtfully, picking up on something he’d said earlier.  “You weren’t born and raised among the rebels, then?  If you’ve gone through… this… before.”

            	“Yeah,” he said.  “I made it four months into the Ivy Seminary before they found me in bed with one of my classmates.  He got a stern lecture from the instructors, as a result of his family connections.  I was a sponsor; no family connections here.  I got shipped off to a reeducation camp.”

            	“How’d you get out?” Emberglow asked as she scanned their back trail.

            	“I didn’t.  I was rescued.  Knights Discordant, led by Heartwing, raided the camp, and let everypony go.  We had the choice of going with the Knights, or being resettled somewhere over here.”  He colored as he told the story.  “I chose to go with the Knights.  It might have been for less than heroic reasons.”  He glanced back in the direction where they had left Heartwing and Rarity behind.  Emberglow laughed at the implication.

            	“Love at first sight?” she teased.

            	“Well, lust, for sure,” Terminus laughed, his face glazing over with a bright blush.  “I mean, those of us in the camp were being tortured.  Suddenly a bunch of Knights show up and wreck up the plots who were hurting us?  And they’re all muscly and brave, and maybe a little sweaty…” he trailed off with a hum of pleasure, laughing at the expression on Emberglow’s face.  “I know, not your thing.  But it didn’t take long for me to fall hopelessly head over hooves for him.”  He eyed Emberglow shrewdly.  “Speaking of love at first sight, how are things with you and Miss Rarity?”

            	Now it was Emberglow’s turn to blush.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered. Terminus gave a good-natured chuckle.   “Am I… am I really that obvious?”

            	“You tend to hover around her a little.  And in the Gold Run, your jealousy was a little cute.”  Emberglow cringed, but Terminus shrugged.  “It’s not really a bad thing, is it? Being attracted to Miss Rarity?” She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head, smiling.

            	“Maybe not.  But I don’t even know where to start.”

            	“You’re certain you want something to happen?” Terminus asked.

            	“Yes,” Emberglow said confidently, then wilted.  “Um, I mean, eventually.  I don’t know.  Is that okay?”  She flinched at how she sounded, but Terminus gave her a kind smile.  “I’m new to this,” she admitted.

            	“It’s fine.  Be patient with yourself, Emberglow.  This is a big transition for you.  Ease yourself into the changes at your own pace.”

            	She nodded.  It was the same sort of thing he’d been telling her ever since she’d been rescued from Steadfast and Brightblade.  She took another moment to scan for any signs of their pursuit.

            	“I don’t see anypony following us,” she concluded.  “We should go back.”

            	“Yeah.  Bring the cloud.  I’m sure they’d enjoy some shade,” Terminus suggested, and Emberglow grinned.  They pushed the cloud back to where Heartwing and Rarity were finishing breaking camp.

            	“I’m just saying,” Rarity was saying as they flew back. “If we’re going to be walking all this way in a hot plain, at least there should be some sort of spell to ease our way.  The weather out here is simply unbearable.  Why, if only we’d at least thought to bring a parasol…”

            	“Rarity,” Heartwing interrupted, exasperated.  “We couldn’t…”

            	“We’re back!” Emberglow announced loudly as she and Terminus pushed the cloud into position above the two unicorns.  “It looks like our pursuit gave up.”

            	“What are you…” Rarity began, before blinking.  “Oh.  Shade.  That’s lovely, thank you.”

            	“It won’t last for long in this sun,” Emberglow warned.

            	“But still, it was a thoughtful thing to do,” Rarity said, beaming up at Emberglow.  Emberglow felt her heart speed up, her conversation with Terminus still rather fresh in her mind.

            	“It was Terminus’ idea,” she admitted. 

            	“Well, you’re both sweethearts for doing it,” Rarity replied with a stunning smile.  Emberglow felt her cheeks reddening.  “Is everything all right, darling?  You look a little flushed.”

            	“F-fine!  Just fine!” Emberglow yelped.  “I’ll take first shift pushing the cloud over you guys while we walk!”  But Terminus was already behind the cloud, with a knowing smirk on his face as he glanced at her.  “Or n-not.”  Awkwardly she flapped down to come to rest next to Rarity, who had lifted her saddlebags on with her sparkling blue magic.  The three ponies began down the dirt road, while Terminus pushed the dwindling cloud above them.

            	“Why do you think Brightblade stopped chasing us?” Emberglow called out to Heartwing, trying to change the subject.  Heartwing pursed his lips thoughtfully.

            	“If I had to guess?  I’d imagine they’ve got records about Nyumba Ya Joka.  I can’t think the village’s guardian views Diarchy Knights too fondly.  They know we’ll have to go through Jubilation to reach any sort of boat headed to the Empire, so they’ll probably just wait until we’re on our way back through there to try and ambush us.”

            	“The village guardian?”

            	“He’s called Mlinzi,” Heartwing said, before going silent.  A few expectant moments passed, but he just trotted along quietly.

            	Rarity eyed him. “You’re being oddly mum about this Mlinzi, Heartwing. Who is he, and why do we need to see him?”

            	“Mlinzi is a dragon, Rarity.  I have reason to believe he has an Element of Harmony in his horde.”

            	“A dragon?  Why would a dragon have…”

            	“Rarity…” Heartwing sighed.  “Please remember, it’s been a very long time.  Mlinzi is his name now, but when you knew him, you called him Spike.”

            	“My Spikey-wikey?” Rarity gushed.  “He’s still alive?  Why, that’s wonderful news, Heartwing!  I…”  Heartwing was shaking his head.

            	“A thousand years, Rarity, remember?  Mlinzi is not the baby dragon you used to know.  He’s angry.  And bitter.  Time changes ponies.  And dragons.  Right about the time I was waking up from stone, he settled down in a cave on an arête overlooking a fertile valley.  I visited him once.”  Heartwing’s expression was grim.  “He did not seem interested in my presence.  Since taking up residence, a group of zebras settled down on one side of the arête and built a village.  They call the village ‘Nyumba Ya Joka’.  The Dragon’s House, in the local tongue.”

            	“Surely it can’t be all that bad, Heartwing.  Spike was such a sweet dragon.”

            	“Rarity, you’d better stop thinking about him as Spike, and start remembering that a thousand years has passed since you saw him last,” Heartwing sounded impatient.  “Ponies change.  Dragons change.  And we’d better be prepared to be chased out of that cave with our tails on fire.”  Rarity shuddered, and without thinking about it, Emberglow stepped closer to her.

            	“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe,” she said softly, blushing at how silly she felt saying it.  The grateful look Rarity shot her was worth it.  The moment was ruined by Heartwing’s scoff.

            	“Quiet, you.  She was just being sweet,” Rarity scolded, and Heartwing gave them both an unrepentant smirk before his expression grew solemn again.

            	“Seriously, though, you’ll want to be on your hooves, Emberglow.  I don’t really expect Mlinzi to attack us, but he defends his territory fiercely.  I’ve heard that he’s gone so far as to cook Diarchy Knights alive in their own armor.”

            	“Do you mean Spike actually…” Rarity gulped, “eats ponies?”

            	“Mlinzi, Rarity.” Heartwing corrected.  “Start using his new name.  You’ll be less shocked when you see how different he is.”

            	“But… does he?” Rarity pressed.  Heartwing waggled his eyes teasingly, and Rarity scowled.  Emberglow did her best to give him her own sharp glance.

            	“I don’t think so,” Heartwing conceded.  “I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think even Mlinzi has changed that much.”

            	“That’s… good, I suppose.”  Rarity sounded unsure.  Emberglow glanced between the two old friends.  Rarity took a deep breath, clearly uncomfortable.  Emberglow half-lifted a hoof to comfort her, but hesitated, feeling awkward.  “You believe he has one of the Elements?”

            	“If he doesn’t, he’ll know where to look,” Heartwing replied.  “He was Twilight’s assistant, after all.”

            	“And you were supposed to be her friend,” Rarity said, a note of accusation in her voice.  “Why didn’t she tell you where she was hiding them?”

            	“By that time, I was a statue again,” Heartwing said, gazing off into the horizon.

            	“But why?” Rarity’s expression was determined, but Heartwing wouldn’t meet her eyes.

            	“I’d rather not talk about it,” Heartwing said.

            	“Heartwing.”  Rarity’s voice was low and threatening, but Heartwing continued to ignore her.  With a grunt, he broke into a trot, breaking in front of the other two and out of the dwindling shade of the cloud.  “Well.  I suppose if he doesn’t want to talk about it…”  She sighed.

            	“Do you want to chase after him?” Emberglow ventured.  Rarity shook her head.

            	“We’re going to have to push him on it eventually,” Rarity replied.  “It’s clear he’s hiding something he’d rather not speak about.  Oddly enough, this is far less aggravating than he used to be.”

            	“Before… you were put under the spell?” Emberglow asked cautiously.  Rarity nodded.  “What was he like?”

            	“A rascal,” Rarity snorted.  “A complete cad, at times.  Infuriating.  He was an all-powerful god of chaos.  He could snap his claws and summon nearly anything, as long as it fulfilled some mad scheme or foalish prank.  Even after he was ‘reformed’, he still insisted on manipulating and condescending to all of us he called ‘friends’.”

            	“Reformed?”

            	“Princess Celestia, in her infinite wisdom, saw the potential for good in him, even if nopony else did.  She asked Twilight and the rest of us to try and reform him.  In the end, it was our friend Fluttershy that proved the strongest influence.”  Rarity pursed her lips.  “There were… hrm… hiccups along the way, but in time he did become a friend, of sorts.”

“Hiccups?”

“He could be manipulative, and volatile.”  Rarity pursed her lips.  “Volatile like he is now, if I’m being honest.  He’s upset about something from our past.  The only time I’ve seen his mood dance about like this is when somepony brings up Fluttershy.”

            	“I’ve seen how he reacts when Fluttershy is mentioned,” Emberglow said softly.  Heartwing was far ahead, but she didn’t want him to overhear.  “He must have truly loved her.”

            	“I think so,” Rarity said.  “I was only able to see the beginnings of their love, but he was utterly devoted to the dear.”  She glanced up at Terminus above them.  “I think he still is.”

            	Emberglow glanced back and forth between Terminus and Heartwing, wondering what Rarity was talking about.  She opened her mouth to ask.

            	“There, see that?” Heartwing shouted from in front of them.  He had one hoof pointed off in the distance, east across the savannah.  “That’s Adia’s Spine. The arête I told you about.  The village we’re looking for is just at the foot of that peak.”  He motioned to the tallest point of the arête.  Emberglow and Rarity hurried to catch up, and Terminus shoved the cloud so it was once again covering all three ponies on the ground.

            	“We’re not done with our earlier conversation,” Rarity warned Heartwing, who ignored her and started off again.  “Heartwing!  You can’t ignore me forever.”

            	“I’m pretty sure I can!” Heartwing sang out.  “I don’t age, Rarity.  I’ll outlast you if I have to!”

            	“I see.  Pity I can’t just stare it out of you.”

            	Heartwing froze in his tracks, rounding on Rarity with a snarl.  Rarity jerked to a stop as well, and Emberglow instinctively placed herself between the two ponies.

            	“That’s low, Rarity.  Cruel, even for you,” he hissed.  Rarity glared at him, but Emberglow caught a hint of guilt in her expression.

            	“I’m not sorry,” she shot back.  “You need to talk to us, darling.  Something is hurting you, and we’re your friends.”

            	“I will, okay?” Heartwing sighed.  “Just… not yet.  It’s not important.”

            	“How can we know if you don’t talk to us?” Rarity asked.

            	“Heartwing, I, uh…” she began then paused.  Both Rarity and Heartwing were looking at her intently, and she felt the weight of their gaze.  She tried to push past the sudden urge to change the subject, or say something else. “When I was in the Ivy Seminary, I tried to do everything by myself.  I tried to be an island.  I-I was being bullied, and things started to pile up.”  Both ponies were staring at her now. She fought desperately against the nervous urge to shrink down into herself.  “I-I didn’t talk to anypony until I finally snapped.  I had an anxiety attack.  It was, um, bad.”

            	“So?” Heartwing asked, and Rarity smacked him with one hoof.

            	“They made me talk to somepony afterwards.  A Radiant therapist.  Um, actually the exact same mare who chased us out of Jubilation, along with Brightblade.  We talked about the importance of being honest with our friends.”  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Emberglow cringed.  Her words felt limp and impotent.  Her sessions with Mercy Song had been a life-saver back in the Seminary.  So why couldn’t she capture the same feeling now? “I… I don’t know what you’ve been through, Heartwing.  But you need to let us help you.”

            	“Thanks, Emberglow.”  Heartwing rolled his eyes.  “Grade school level pop psychology from a Diarchy Knight.  Tell me, how’d your last conversation with your therapist go?”

            	“Heartwing, darling?  Hold still a moment.”  Rarity’s horn glowed, and suddenly Heartwing’s ear was enveloped in a ring of blue magic.  He let out a yelp of pain and glared at Rarity.

            	“What was that for?”

            	“You’re being rude, dear.  Emberglow is trying to help.  Now, apologize or I’ll tell your coltfriend on you.”  Rarity glanced significantly up at Terminus, and Heartwing groaned.

            	“Fine.  I humbly beg your pardon, dearest Lady Emberglow.” He flourished with one hoof while bowing deeply in a mockingly theatrical display, before giving her   “Anything to keep Rarity from making good on her threat of tattling.”  His smile became smaller, more sincere.  “And I can’t promise much, but I can try to be more open.”

            	He’d gone from sneering and sarcastic to silly and smiling in a mere heartbeat, his earlier aggression wiped away with a smooth, perfect grin.  There was something in his tone, though, that made Emberglow suspicious; it felt almost a little... too polished?

            	“Please do,” Emberglow said warily.  “We’re your friends, Heartwing.”  She glanced up at Terminus, noting the strain in his wings as he pushed the cloud above them.  “I’m going to give your coltfriend a break.  You know, you can talk to him, too.”

            	“Yes, thank you, mother.” Heartwing frowned, his muzzle wrinkling with sarcasm.  Emberglow rolled her eyes, then flew up to change places with Terminus.

            	“They really do appreciate the shade,” Emberglow told Terminus as she flew up beside him, taking the cloud in her hooves and pumping her wings to push it.

            	“I’m glad.  Hey, it sounds like things got a little heated down there.  Everything okay?”

            	“Yes,” Emberglow said.  “Your coltfriend has a good heart, but I wonder if he takes too much on himself sometimes.”  Terminus snorted, nodding vigorously in agreement.  “He knows something about the dragon we’re going to see.  Something he doesn’t want to share with us.  I’d like to help carry his burdens, but he won’t open up.”

            	“I’ve been having the same argument for five years, Emberglow,” Terminus sighed.  “Sometimes it drives me crazy, but I love him all the same.  If he doesn’t want to share his burdens, the best I can do is be there with a kiss and a cuddle when he needs it.”

            	“Well, I’ll take the cloud.  You go kiss your coltfriend.”  She shared a quick hoof bump with Terminus, then put her mind to pushing the portable shade.  

She was only a dozen or so feet up, but it still was hard to hear the muffled conversation below her.  It was clear from the tones of voice she could hear, however, that Heartwing was being lectured by his coltfriend: Heartwing was whining, while Terminus scolded him.  Emberglow grinned; hopefully he would listen to Terminus.


*   *   *   *   *


            	After another hour of taking turns with Terminus to push the cloud, the last few wisps of cloud dissolved in the hot air.  Disappointed, she flapped back down to the others.

            	“Sorry we couldn’t bring a parasol,” Emberglow said softly to Rarity as she landed, remembering the bit of conversation she’d overheard earlier.  Rarity blushed, and Heartwing broke into gales of laughter.

            	“Quiet, you,” Rarity scolded.  “You and I both know I’ve gotten quite a bit better about my packing habits while… ugh… ‘roughing it’.  I’m not nearly as bad as I used to be.”  She huffed angrily.  “And besides, have you even heard me complain once on this journey?”

            	“Well, there was that bit about the parasol,” Heartwing chimed in helpfully.  Rarity glared at him.

            	“You did need some seasickness pills,” Emberglow added, and when Rarity’s offended glare shifted to her, she tried to play it off with a smile.  “You were a wonderful patient, though.”

            	“And then there were your objections to the nature of our departure,” Heartwing continued teasingly.  “Cutting your time in the Jubilation market short, missing dinner…”

            	“You’re all quite rude,” Rarity pouted, and Emberglow couldn’t help but giggle at the cute expression.  Heartwing laughed outright, and even Terminus was politely covering his mouth with one hoof.  “Very well, then.  If the consensus is that nopony wants to hear my contributions to our conversations, I shall simply remain silent.”  She turned her nose in the air as she trotted ahead of everypony, and Emberglow hopped into the air, pushing herself just enough so she could be alongside Rarity.

            	“That’s too bad,” she whispered, feeling herself blush even before she said the words.  “I like the sound of your voice.”

            	Rarity opened her mouth to shoot something back, a hint of pink dusting her white cheeks.  After a moment’s pause, though, she just smiled sheepishly at Emberglow.

            	“I’m sorry, Emberglow.  I’m sure the Saint Rarity of your stories is much more dignified, and much less prone to complaints than I am.”

            	“I’d rather get to know the real you,” Emberglow admitted, and Rarity’s smile widened.  Emberglow looked ahead; as the ponies moved down the road, the faint hints of a village at the foot of the mountain were coming into view.  She could see a few buildings, and what looked like a radio tower.  “Um, on that subject: while we walk, I was wondering if you’d be willing to tell more of the real version of some of your stories?”  She glanced back; Heartwing and Terminus were hanging back behind them, having their own talk.

            	“I’d be happy to, darling.  Any in particular you’re interested in?”

            	“Well, as a foal, I always loved the story when you went to Manehatten and met Coco and Suri.”

            	“Oh,” Rarity cooed with a smile.  “That story’s just lovely.  Well, it started with a fashion contest.  I was invited to Manehatten to compete against several other budding fashion designers.  Suri Polomare was one of my competitors, and Miss Pommel was her assistant.  All my friends joined me, and at first, it looked like it was going to be a lovely but relaxing trip to the big city.”  Rarity laughed ruefully.  “I should have known better.  Whenever the six of us did anything together, it was never uncomplicated.”

            	Emberglow listened with both fascination and shock as Rarity told her story.  It was both like and unlike the version in the Book of the Saints, and Emberglow found herself mourning that she’d never heard the real version.  The real story was somehow beautiful in its complication; it was clear Rarity was unwilling to embellish the truth, even when it came to her own flaws.

            	“And after that, Miss Pommel and I became wonderful friends,” Rarity said as she finished her narrative.  “I even hired her to run my Manehatten boutique, ‘Rarity For You’.”

            	“So neither Coco nor Suri were unicorns?” Emberglow asked.  Rarity snorted.

            	“Not at all, darling.  Both earth ponies.  Why?  Is that how the stories are told in your book?”

            	“Yes ,they were both unicorns.  You had gone to Manehatten to teach ponies about the unholiness of nudity.  Suri was an evil unicorn trying to stop you, and Coco was her assistant.  When Suri sabotaged the clothing you had brought, you cried, and where your tears fell, magical plants sprouted, complete with clothing growing from the vines, to replace what Suri and Coco had destroyed.  It’s your first recorded miracle in the Book.”

            	“Oh my,” Rarity tittered.  “That sounds, oh dear, I’m so sorry to laugh like this, but that sounds utterly ridiculous. And ponies believe these stories?”

            	“Yes.  The Book of the Saints is believed to be quite literal.”  Emberglow felt a stab of embarrassment.  She’d believed, with all her heart, and the sense of very real loss still burned in her.

            	“Goodness.  I’ll have to borrow your book, if that’s all right,” Rarity said.  “I’d like to see what else they butchered in my name.”

            	“You can keep it.”  Emberglow shrugged.  “I’m not even sure why I shoved it in my saddlebags, to be honest.  I… I guess it’s just a part of who I was, even if it’s not who I am now.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let it go.”

            	“Very well, I shall borrow it from you tonight,” Rarity said.  She glanced behind her, and Emberglow looked as well.  The two stallions were deep in conversation, and from the smirks on their faces, they were having some sort of fun.  “Hmm.  The stallions seem to have fallen behind.  They appear far too satisfied, as well.  They better not be planning some sort of mischief.”

            	“Terminus will keep Heartwing in line, I hope” Emberglow said uncertainly.

            	“Oh, I’m sure.”  Rarity smiled.  “I was only teasing.  Besides, it looks like they’re simply enjoying each other’s company.  Flirting, teasing, that sort of thing.”  Emberglow saw Terminus whisper something to Heartwing, then run the leading edge of his feathers along Heartwing’s flank.  Heartwing responded with a laugh, and Emberglow found herself envious.

            	“I wish I knew how to do that,” she muttered, then silently cursed, wishing she could physically reach out and drag the words back.

            	“Do what, darling?”

            	“...flirt.”  DAMN her honest tongue.  She fixed her eyes on the village in the distance, unable to meet Rarity’s curious eyes.

            	“I see,” Rarity replied.  There was something sad about her voice.  “Miss Emberglow, do you mind if I ask you some personal questions?”

            	“Um, sure, I guess.”

            	“In your Diarchy, your city, where you were raised, homosexuality is illegal, right?”

            	The question was not what Emberglow was expecting.  “Yeah.  We’re taught that from a very young age.  It’s not illegal to be born that way, just to act on it.”

            	“I see,” Rarity mused.  “And you knew, even from a young age, that you were attracted to mares?”

            	“Since I was probably nine or ten, yes,” Emberglow replied.  Rarity nodded, and Emberglow glanced at her, curious.

            	“And you’ve been denying yourself all romance, all sexuality, everything sensual and erotic, since you were a foal?”

            	“Yes.  There are meditation techniques, certain prayers, I would say if I felt tempted.” Emberglow admitted.  “I… uh, haven’t bothered as much, recently, but habits are hard to break.”

            	“You’ve been horribly repressed, darling.  Abused, even, by this wretched Diarchy of yours.  No wonder you have no idea how to flirt.  Very well, I shall have to teach you.”

            	“You… buh… um…” Emberglow felt like her brain had shut off. 

            	“You heard what I said, darling.” Rarity paused, and shot Emberglow a glance.  “That is, if you want me to.”

            	“Yes please!” Emberglow nearly yelped, far too eagerly.  She flinched, but Rarity simply smiled.

            	“Very well.  So to begin with, flirting is supposed to be fun.”

            	“Fun?” Emberglow asked.

            	“Yes, fun,” Rarity laughed.  “Oh dear.  I’m going to sound like Twilight giving a lecture.  I’m sure she had a shelf full of books in her library about romantic subjects, flirting, courtship, more… erotic subjects.”  She shook her head and gave a fond sigh.  “But back to the matter at hand.  Ponies flirt for a few different reasons.  Sometimes just for fun, and sometimes to indicate deeper interest.  But either way, it should be enjoyable.”

            	“Okay…” Emberglow said nervously.

            	“I’m going to assume you’re more interested in the second reason?” Rarity raised an eyebrow coquettishly.  Emberglow’s mouth went dry, and she nodded.  “Well, the methods are mostly the same.  Hmm, where to begin…”  Her grin became predatory, almost vulpine, and Emberglow shivered.

            	“One way ponies flirt is through purely non-verbal gestures,” Rarity said.  Her eyes sparkled wickedly.  “Some examples could be flipping one’s hair.”  Rarity tossed her head, fluttering her eyelashes as she gazed at Emberglow with half-lidded eyes.  Her glossy purple curls bounced and danced.  “Or perhaps a not so casual touch…” Her hoof gently brushed against Emberglow’s cheek.  “Or maybe even a subtle sway of the hips.”  She demonstrated with a hypnotic undulation of her back half.

            	Emberglow never saw the rock she tripped over.  She only knew that one moment she was watching a mare walk in the most sensuous way possible, and the next she was tasting dirt.

            	“Rarity, please don’t break our Knight Radiant,” Heartwing called out from behind them.  Emberglow heard a meaty smack, and Heartwing’s dismayed whine.  “Ow!  What was that for?”

            	“Be nice and let the girls flirt in peace, sweetie,” Terminus replied, loud enough for Emberglow to hear.  She quickly jerked to her hooves, brushing the dirt off her armor and face.  Her face was burning.

            	“Are you all right?” Rarity asked, concern evident on her face.  Emberglow nodded.  She didn’t trust her own voice.  “Here, let me.”  Rarity reached out, and with the sleeve of her robe, gently brushed the dirt stuck to Emberglow’s glowing cheeks.  Rarity looked guilty.  “I’m sorry.  I was probably laying it on a bit thick, as it were.”

            	“I d-didn’t mind,” Emberglow stammered.  This close, she could smell the shampoo Rarity had used.

            	“Still,” Rarity laughed gently.  “It wasn’t fair to you.”  Emberglow saw a hint of Rarity’s own flush, glowing through white fur.

            	“Flirting’s supposed to be fun, right?” Emberglow said, with far more confidence than she felt.  “Well, I was having fun.  I’d like the lesson to continue, Instructor Rarity.”  Rarity laughed, and the two of them resumed their journey down the road.

            	“It looks like you might have the next part down, Miss Emberglow.  Flirting often involves subtle teasing.”

            	“Teasing?” Emberglow felt a sudden surge of courage.  “Like telling somepony how cute they look when they blush?”

            	“Y-yes, that’s a good example, Miss Emberglow.” Rarity only stammered slightly, but Emberglow didn’t miss it.  She raised her eyebrows, giving Rarity an amused look, and the two of them burst into giggles.

            	“So, are we really just having a lesson in flirting?” Emberglow asked, her heart pounding.  She suddenly needed Rarity to confirm that they weren’t just playing.  Rarity bit her lip slightly, and nodded.  It was the barest wiggle of her head, but Emberglow’s heart soared.  With a poof of her feathers, her wings spread out in an involuntary reaction of glee, and she and Rarity shared a second embarrassed giggle.  “You know, we’re practically putting on a show for the stallions.”

            	“Who cares,” Rarity said, flipping her hair melodramatically.  “I’m enjoying myself immensely.  I can’t remember when I last indulged my silly side like this.”

            	“Oh?” Emberglow teased.  “Rarity, you made it seem like you were such an expert at flirting.”

            	“To be honest, Miss Emberglow, I am mostly just well-read on the subject.  My past attempts at romance in my own life all ended in disaster.”  She rolled her eyes and huffed.

            	“Really?” Emberglow asked.  “I sense a story.”

            	“Nothing worth repeating, I assure you,” Rarity said dramatically, but there was a look in her eye that made Emberglow think that Rarity wanted her to push.  It reminded Emberglow of her foalhood, listening to Ms. Lavish Essence, the Emerald Street gossip, share the most recent neighborhood news with Emberglow’s mother.  She wondered if Rarity had been much of a gossip in her past life.

            	“That’s too bad.  It sounded like such a fun story,” Emberglow lamented.  She wasn’t the most subtle of actresses, and Rarity eyed her sidelong.  “I guess I’ll never…”

            	“Oh, if you insist,” Rarity interrupted.  “If you must know about all my sordid romantic failures, I suppose I can share.”  She rolled her eyes when Emberglow laughed.  “First, there was Blueblood.  We met at the Grand Galloping Gala, the premier social event of the year.  I had read all about him, of course.  How he was supposed to be the most handsome and dashing of all nobleponies in Canterlot.  I immediately attracted his attention at the party.  It took mere seconds for me to realize what he was.”

            	“And that was…?” Emberglow prompted.  She’d heard her mother gently prompt Ms. Essence enough to know how this process worked.

            	“A cad, darling.  An utter waste of air.  He was selfish, vain, and utterly oblivious to all around him.  I’d built up such a fantasy about how that night would go.  Let’s just say that fantasy didn’t quite include being shoved in front of my alleged ‘knight in shining armor’ to serve as a shield for a dreadful rain of pastry and fondant.”  She gave a huff of displeasure, though it was tinged with amusement.

            	“What?”

            	“Well, the entire Gala turned into a disaster due to a sequence of unfortunate accidents, all perpetrated by my friends, the ones you used to call Saints,” Rarity explained.  She went on to describe a near-unbelievable series of mishaps, from rampaging animals, falling statues, and a cake catapulted directly at Rarity’s erstwhile date.  By the end, Emberglow was laughing so hard she nearly couldn’t walk.

            	“It turned out just fine in the end,” Rarity finished.  “While the romance was a failure, I was at least able to spend an exciting evening with my friends.  My second brush with infatuation was nearly as horrible.”

            	“It can’t be as bad as the first,” Emberglow giggled.

            	“Oh it’s far worse,” Rarity warned.  “Because this time, I was the one who made a foal out of myself.”

            	The second story was as entertaining as the first, as Rarity didn’t spare any of the embarrassing details.  She spoke about her infatuation for a travel writer, and said writer’s near instant infatuation, in turn, for Rarity’s friend Applejack.  What followed was an escalating series of increasingly absurd stunts to attract the stallion’s attention, only to end when Applejack finally made her come to her senses.

            	“You’re surprisingly honest about your own, um, embarrassing moment,” Emberglow noted.  Rarity snorted.

            	“I’m telling a story that involves Applejack, darling.  If I’m not completely honest, I’m half-convinced her ghost will appear, cursing me for my dishonesty.”  Rarity said.  “Besides, I’m not bitter about it.  I do regret…” She trailed off sadly, and shook her head.

            	“Regret what?” Emberglow whispered, but Rarity shook her head.

            	“It’s nothing.”  Rarity smiled at her.  It only looked partially forced.  “So.  Now you know my two romantic disasters.”

            	“Just those two… um… stallions?” Emberglow ventured nervously, not giving voice to the sudden concern she felt.  Rarity eyed her sharply.

            	“Oh, you don’t need to worry too much about that, darling,” Rarity said.  “I’ve always been attracted to beauty in all its forms, regardless of gender.”  The way she eyed Emberglow as she spoke made Emberglow’s heart beat faster, and a dopey grin tugged at the corners of her lips.

            	“Oh, um… g-good,” she stammered, hating herself a little for how awkward she sounded.  “But, um, how can you seem so confident?  With the flirting, I mean.”

            	“Emberglow, I’ve seen you stride into danger without a moment’s hesitation.  I’ve seen you jump in front of a spear that would have probably taken my life, while you were still bruised and bloody from that vicious brute’s attentions.  You don’t need to ask me about confidence.”

            	“That’s different,” Emberglow waved a hoof dismissively.  “I’ve been training to fight for years now.  I’ve seen battle; I don’t even freeze up any longer when a fight breaks out.  Flirting, romance, that kind of stuff...” she sighed.  “I’ve always avoided it.”  An image of Gadget’s face flashed in her mind, and she flinched.  “At least, avoided it on purpose.”

            	“Emberglow.”  She felt Rarity’s hoof on her shoulder, and she turned to gaze into blue eyes brimming with concern.  “Is everything okay?”

            	“Just sad memories,” Emberglow said.  She raised a hoof to dash at her suddenly wet eyes.  “A friend who was killed.”

            	“Would you like to talk about it?” Rarity asked sincerely.

            	“You… don’t mind?”  Emberglow fixed her eyes on the village in the distance.  Somehow the naked concern and empathy on Rarity’s face made her hurt even more.

            	“No, Emberglow.  Tell me about your friend.”

            	“We… might have been more.  We kissed, once.”  She had no idea why she started there.  It made no sense.  “The guilt of it almost killed me.  I’d been strong my entire life; why slip up now?”  She shuddered.  “It could have been…” Emberglow didn’t even know what to say.  What could she have had with Gadget?

            	“What happened?” Rarity asked breathlessly.

            	“She was killed.  By one of H-heartwing’s ponies.  Right before I killed him.”  Night Star had been his name.  She’d remember that forever.  “It was just a day or so before you woke up.  I… I barely knew her, but I knew we were attracted to each other.  In another world, another time, maybe, I might have…”

            	Suddenly Rarity’s hooves were around her, and Emberglow wrapped her own around Rarity.  The two paused, right in the middle of the road, holding each other for a moment.  Rarity pushed back and looked deep into Emberglow’s eyes.

            	“What was her name?” Rarity asked.

            	“Gadget,” Emberglow said.  “Look, I may not know much about flirting and stuff, but I know it’s bad form to talk about ponies you dated before.”  After all this time, she could finally admit that the night she had shared with Gadget in Port Luminescence was a date.

            	“You hush about that, darling,” Rarity said, squeezing Emberglow with her hooves again.  “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until I have another good cry about what I’ve lost, too.”  She sniffled.  It was adorable.  Everything Rarity did was adorable.  The sudden thought was as absurd as it was unconnected, and Emberglow found herself on the verge of either tears or laughter.

            	“I’m such a mess,” she admitted, shaking her head with a wry smile.  Rarity kept one hoof looped around Emberglow as she guided both of them into motion again.

            	“Well, we’re both messes together, then.  It seems like we’re in good company, too, because I doubt Heartwing is all that stable either.”  Rarity laughed lightly.  “Perhaps Terminus is the only one of us who’s emotionally healthy.”

            	“Everything okay, ladies?” they heard Heartwing ask as the two stallions trotted to catch up.  He was holding out a handkerchief to Emberglow, clutched in his yellow magic.  Emberglow took it gratefully and wiped her tears, before handing it to Rarity so she could do the same.  She noted the meticulous way Rarity wiped her own tears, making sure to not smudge her carefully applied mascara.

            	“We’re fine, darling, but thank you for your concern.”  Rarity beamed at him.  “Just having a bit of a moment.”

            	“Well, I hope it’s dealt with,” he said, pointing towards the village with one hoof.  “We’ve been noticed.  Somepony’s coming out to greet us.”

            	Emberglow could just make out five distant figures, trotting down the road towards them.  She wasn’t sure, but it looked like they were armed with long rifles.

            	“Are they going to attack us?” Emberglow asked, nervously anticipating the violence that might come.  She would keep her oath; she would never kill again.  That didn’t mean she’d let anypony hurt Rarity, or either of the stallions.

            	“They didn’t last time I visited,” Heartwing said.  “But that was a few hundred years ago, so things might have changed.”

            	“We can only hope,” Rarity said.

            	The four ponies made no move to hide themselves as they approached the welcoming party. The five zebras were indeed armed.  Each one was dressed in uniform, made of savannah camouflage.  Their rifles were holstered on their backs, and their expressions were not friendly.

            	“So you know what you’re going to say to them, Rarity?” Heartwing asked.  Rarity’s eyes widened, and she spun on him.

            	“What?” Rarity shrieked, panicked.  “I barely know why we’re coming here, except to meet with Sp… um, Mlinzi.  When did we decide I would be doing the talking?”

            	Heartwing was hooting with laughter before she even finished talking.  “Relax, Rarity.  Terminus will speak for us.  He lived in Zebrica for a year as part of an officer-slash-training exchange.  I was only ribbing you.”  He paused, thoughtfully.  “Hmm.  Being around you again made me oddly nostalgic for my old habits.  I almost wish I could have pulled out one of my own ribs and waved it at you while teasing.”  Everypony was staring at him.  “What?”

            	“You’re so weird,” Terminus grunted, bumping him with a hip as he passed, moving to the front of the group so he could approach the zebras first.  He kept his expression open and friendly, and his own rifle holstered on his back as he called out to them.  “Hello!”

            	“Knights of the Diarchy are not welcome in Nyumba Ya Joka,” the lead zebra mare called back.  Terminus nodded patiently.

            	“As you can see by our armor, we are not Diarchy Knights,” he said calmly.  “I am Sir Terminus Flash, of the Discordant.  This is Sir Heartwing, and Lady Emberglow, also of the Discordant.”  Emberglow felt an odd surge of emotion at that.  Pride, yes, but also a bit of bitterness, surprisingly.  Being a Radiant had been such a large part of her life.

            	“Oh, I’m sorry,” the zebra mare sneered.  “I didn’t realize the Diarchy hadn’t discovered how to paint their armor different colors.”

            	“Please, we have only peaceful intentions.  We wish to speak to Mlinzi.”

            	All five zebras stiffened at the mention of the dragon’s name.  Two even reached for their rifles, but didn’t draw.

            	“What business do you have with the dragon?” the zebra demanded.  “Besides, you didn’t identify your fourth member.  What are you hiding?”

            	“We’re hiding nothing,” Rarity interjected boldly, sounding offended.  “My name is Rarity, and I’m an old friend of Mlinzi’s.  If you don’t believe me, feel free to ask him yourself.”

            	The five zebras shared startled glances.  “We don’t speak with the Guardian, mare.  We simply keep ponies away from him.  He wishes solitude, and we help to provide it.”  Her eyes narrowed dangerously on Rarity.  “You are truly an old friend of his?  How is that…?”

            	“Unicorn magic,” Terminus cut in with a dismissive hoof wave.  “Besides, if we’re Diarchy Knights, why are there unicorns with us?”  The zebra leader managed to look embarrassed.

            	“You are not Diarchy Knights?” she repeated.  Terminus shook his head.  “And you truly wish the Guardian, and our village, no harm?”

            	“None at all.  We swear it,” Terminus said solemnly.  Heartwing nodded, and Emberglow followed suit.

            	“Very well.  You may enter Nyumba Ya Joka.  When you climb the mountain to speak with the Guardian, you will leave your armor and weapons behind.”

            	“We will accept those conditions,” Terminus said, after a glance at Heartwing, who looked unhappy.  “Thank you for your welcome.”

            	“We didn’t give you one,” the zebra snarled.  “You are not welcome here.  Perhaps you mean no harm, but you come to disturb the Guardian anyway.  He has watched over and protected us for centuries, and we will not look kindly on those who cause him distress or harm.”

            	“Your loyalty does you credit,” Terminus said diplomatically.  “He must be pleased to have such zealous defenders.”

            	“Mlinzi defends himself.  We just try to keep the trash off his mountain.”  The implication was clear.  “We will escort you to the village.  There is an inn that merchants use.  You may rent rooms there.  A zebra guide will be with you at all times, if you are not within the inn’s walls.  I assume you brought money?”  Her voice dripped contempt.

            	“I assume trade bits from Jubilation will be acceptable?” Terminus asked, and the zebra huffed.

            	“Trade bits will be fine.  Come with us.”

            	The zebra soldiers filled into a loose formation around the Knights.  Emberglow tried not to feel apprehensive, while sidling up close to Rarity.  They didn’t seem violent, but their expressions betrayed their hostility.  Unlike the open and friendly zebras of Jubilation, these zebras clearly didn’t want them there.  She wished she could be like Heartwing, and project an air of uncaring confidence, or even like Rarity, with her subtle wordless grace under pressure.

            	“I must say,” Rarity said in a stage whisper.  “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this much rudeness.”  Emberglow watched as the soldier nearest them narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.  “The citizens of Jubilation were much kinder.”

            	“These zebras are very loyal to Mlinzi, Rarity,” Heartwing whispered.  “He keeps them safe from outside threats.  They see us as a threat to their relationship with them.  It’s much the same as the last time I came to speak with him.”

            	“What happened last time?” Rarity asked, but Heartwing already trotted quickly ahead again.


*    *     *     *    *


            	The village of Nyumba Yo Joka was small, but prosperous.  The buildings were much more modern and uniform than the hodge-podge of color that was Jubilation.  In the shade of the arete above, there was no need for the flat, open plan stucco houses of Jubilation.  Instead, the zebras of Nyumba Ya Joka had built sturdy homes from the mountain, wood and stone that matched the colors of the peak above.  

Curious zebras stared at them as they walked down the road that led to the center of town.  The residents were mostly well-dressed in colorful clothing, though just as many went bare in the relatively cooler air at the foot of the mountain.  Clothing here was mostly accents; bright scarves and capes, with a few dresses and robes mixed in as well.

There were no other types of creatures in sight, which was a somewhat jarring change from Jubilation. Unlike the kaleidoscope of races which had been packed together in the port town, this village only had zebras.  From the looks on some of the young foal’s faces, some of them had never even seen a pony before.  Emberglow saw their eyes darting between the unicorns’ horns, and the pegasi wings.  She didn’t mind; she even made sure to fluff her wings a bit whenever she caught a zebra foal staring.  She noticed it would make Rarity smile indulgently every time a foal gasped in delight or point in excitement.

            	“This is the inn,” the zebra mare, who had finally identified herself as Sergeant Irontail, announced blandly.  They had stopped in front of a three story stone building with wide open windows.  There was a sign above the door, with words on it in a language Emberglow couldn’t read.  “The market is just to the east, if you require supplies.  I will arrange for an escort to take you up the mountain first thing tomorrow morning, for a fair price.  You may leave your weapons and armor at the inn; no one will touch them while you are gone.”  She grinned viciously.  “Unless, of course, Mlinzi decides to barbeque you.  Then we’ll sell them off.”

            	“That’s fair.” Terminus said casually, ignoring the threat.  “Thank you for showing us the way.”  As if it hadn’t been an armed escort.

            	“If you change your minds and decide to leave, that’s fine.  But if you try to sneak up the mountain with your weapons or without a guide, we’ll know, and you will be fired on.”

            	“You have our word that we won’t.  Again, thank you.”  Terminus nodded politely to the soldiers.  Sergeant Irontail grunted, and she and her soldiers trotted off.  Two of them conspicuously took up positions outside the inn, watching the ponies suspiciously.  “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

            	Terminus opened the wooden door, and the four ponies entered the inn.  The lobby was decorated with brightly colored cloths, hanging from the ceiling like the canvas awnings of the market stalls in Jubilation.  There was a round desk in the center of the lobby.  A bell attached to the door rang when it opened.

            	“Welcome to the Respite Inn!” a small voice called from behind the counter.  Emberglow couldn’t see anypony at first, until she finally noticed a tuft of fluffy mane just barely sticking above the top of the desk.  Two tiny hooves popped onto the desk, and a zebra foal lifted his head above the desk to look at the guests.  His eyes went wide.  “Woah.  What kind of zebra are you guys?” he squeaked.

            	Emberglow giggled, and Rarity cooed.  The zebra colt was just too adorable, with his messy black mane and his wide blue eyes, sparkling with curiosity.  “We’re not zebras, young stallion.  We’re ponies,” Rarity said. 

            	“Ponies?  There’s no ponies here.  You must be from way far away.”  The colt cleared his throat.  “Uh, sorry.  I’m supposed to say other stuff before I bug you.”  He glanced between all four.  “Um, how many rooms would you like?  There’s two beds to a room.”

            	It was a bit of a loaded question, and Emberglow tried not to look panicked as she glanced at Rarity.

            	“Two should be fine,” Rarity said reassuringly.  Emberglow gulped and nodded, and tried to ignore Heartwing’s smirk.

            	“Even if at least one bed in our room will go unused, eh?” he muttered, just loud enough for the four ponies to hear.  Rarity rolled her eyes with an amused grin, and Terminus laughed, kissing his coltfriend on the cheek.

            	“Okay,” the zebra foal said, oblivious to the quiet exchange.  “That’s five trade bits per room, per night.  Food’s an extra two bits each, if you want, or you can go to the market.”  He screwed up his muzzle in a cringe.  “But that’s dumb, cuz my dad’s the best cook in town.  So yeah.”

            	“Oh, I think we can afford the extra bits for some local cooking,” Rarity said, her eyes twinkling with excitement.  “Especially from the best cook in town.”

            	“Got it.”  The colt looked between the four ponies, and his eyes crossed as he bit his lip in concentration.  “That will be… uh…twenty eight bits.”  Rarity and Emberglow shared another giggle as Heartwing counted out the bits and passed them to the colt.  He counted them one at a time with a look of intense concentration on his face, then reached below the counter to grab a heavy metal lockbox.  The colt grunted and struggled with the heavy box.

            	“May I help you with that?” Rarity offered, and the colt looked confused, but nodded.  Suddenly, the lockbox was enveloped in a blue glow as Rarity lifted it with her magic.  Once again the zebra foal’s eyes widened, frozen on the levitating box as it drifted up to rest on top of the counter.

            	“Woah.  That was awesome,” he breathed.  “Are you a kirin? Cuz Dad tells stories about kirin who live on the far side of the Spine, and they can do stuff like that.”

            	“No, a unicorn pony, darling,” Rarity said.

            	“Um, wow.  What else can…” he suddenly remembered the stack of bits he was supposed to lock away, and hurriedly opened the lockbox with a key tied to a string around his neck.  Carefully he placed the bits into the box, and locked it again.  “Uh, can you…”  Once again, the lockbox was surrounded by Rarity’s magic as it floated back down under the counter.  “That’s so amazing.”  Suddenly he rubbed his forehooves together nervously.  “Um, don’t tell my mom or dad you helped me lift it, okay?  I’m not supposed to let anyone touch the box.”

            	“I won’t tell a soul,” Rarity tittered.  “Now, if you could show us to our rooms…”

            	“You can leave your saddlebags here,” the colt said.  “One of my parents will be back soon, and they’ll bring them up to you.”  He fished a pair of keys out of a drawer and handed them to Heartwing while the four ponies unloaded their saddle bags. “C’mon.  You guys are in rooms four and five.  They’re on the second floor.”

            	They followed the zebra colt to a narrow staircase that opened into a small but comfortable-looking sitting room.

            	“Feel free to use this room while you’re staying here, but be polite to any other guests.  We’re kinda empty right now, but if you’re here a few days we’ll fill up with lotsa merchants bringing in food for market day.  Dinner’s at six o’clock, in the dining room downstairs.  It’s just down the hallway to the right of the desk.”

            	“Well, aren’t you just the most responsible young foal I’ve ever met,” Rarity cooed, and the little colt puffed himself up just a bit.  

He showed them to a pair of doors, each marked with the room number.  “Here’s your rooms.  Lemme know if you need anything else, kay?”

            	“Hmm, maybe your name?” Rarity asked, and the colt flinched.

            	“Oh!  Uh, I’m Skygazer.  You can call me Sky.”  He shifted nervously from one hoof to the other.  “Um, I’m supposed to be wearing my vest with a nametag.  You won’t tell my mom I wasn’t?  Please?  It’s itchy.”

            	“All of your secrets are safe with us, young Sky,” Rarity promised.  “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”  She performed a series of pantomimes as she said the rhyme.  Emberglow was confused, but Sky giggled at the silly little oath.  “Now run along.  We’ll let you know if we need anything else.” The colt scampered back down the stairs to the front counter with a wave of goodbye to his customers.

            	“So, cutest zebra foal ever?” Terminus said softly after Sky was gone.  Everypony else laughed.  He put the key in the door and opened up the first room, while Rarity did the same for theirs.

            	The rooms were cozy.  Each one had a pair of twin beds, a small nightstand, and a wooden vanity with a large mirror.

            	“We might as well get rid of our armor now,” Heartwing told them all once they had settled in.  “Sky might not have recognized Knight Armor when he saw it, but other zebras will, and our reception will be even chillier.  Besides, we’re not taking it up the mountain with us.”

            	“Will we be safe without it?” Emberglow asked.  Heartwing shrugged.

            	“I doubt Mlinzi will attack us, if that’s what you’re asking.”

            	“Um.” Emberglow suddenly felt a jolt of nervous fear go down her spine.  “What will you all be wearing?”

            	Terminus and Heartwing looked at each other, a clear exchange of unspoken communication and understanding.

            	“We were just going to wear nothing, Emberglow.  Sorry, we didn’t think we’d be asked to remove our armor.  You didn’t bring any spare clothes besides your gambeson and armor, did you?” Terminus asked gently.  Emberglow shook her head wordlessly.

            	“You know there’s no shame in nudity,” Heartwing said.  “That’s just Diarchy manipulation.  You need to let go of that guilt.”

            	“It’s not so easy, and you know it,” Terminus scolded.  “I’m sorry, Emberglow.  Maybe you can check out the market, and see if there’s something that looks nice.”  He glanced at Rarity, who looked positively ecstatic.  “I’m sure there’s somepony who would love to take you clothes shopping.”  Rarity began to dance on her hooves, making an excited little patter on the wood floor.  “Oh my.  Emberglow, I think if you don’t take Rarity shopping right now, she just might wear a hole in the floor.”

            	“If you’d like to change out of your armor, you can wear my robe,” Rarity gushed impatiently.  “I don’t mind going without, as long as we don’t spend too much time in the sun.”

            	“I… but… uh…” Emberglow stammered.

            	“Oh, go.  It’ll be fun,” Heartwing smirked.  He shoved Emberglow into her room, pulling the door closed behind her.  “Like a date.”

            	“I’ll leave the robe just outside, if you don’t feel comfortable changing in front of anypony,” Rarity called through the door, ignoring Heartwing’s comment even as Emberglow stammered nervously.  It was just as well the door was closed; that way nopony could see just how red Emberglow’s face was.

            	She had to admit, the idea of going clothing shopping with Rarity, an activity Rarity had enjoyed thoroughly in her past life, was intriguing.  The idea of doing so while Rarity was utterly naked was downright terrifying.  She thought back to some of the talks she’d had with Terminus, back in Angel’s Rest.  He’d been right; the years of manipulation and guilt would take a while to unravel.

            	“It’s perfectly normal for ponies to go about naked,” she whispered to herself.  “It’s perfectly fine for me to do so, too.”  That was less okay, and she shuddered.  “Baby steps, Emberglow.  Maybe next time.”  Maybe never.  But as long as she kept repeating it, she might be able to get over her hang ups someday.

            	Without further delay, she stripped out of her armor and gambeson, though she left on Element of Honesty.  Nervously, she cracked the door, gratified to find nopony outside waiting to say anything.  She did find Rarity’s cream and crimson robe, folded neatly just outside the door.  With a smile, she pulled it into the inn room, shut the door again, and slipped the garment on.  It didn’t fit her as nicely as it had Rarity; once again, Emberglow was reminded that she was a few inches taller than Rarity, with a more athletic build, not to mention her wings, which she would have to keep tucked uncomfortably into her barrel.  But it would serve for a simple shopping trip.  She felt a little thrill as she inhaled Rarity’s scent from the finely woven linen.

            	There was an excited little bounce in Emberglow’s step as she trotted out of the room and into the sitting room, where the other three waited.  She tried not to think too hard about the fact that none of them were clothed.

            	“Oh dear, I completely forgot about your wings,” Rarity gasped as Emberglow entered.  “I’m so sorry, let me fix that for you.  My scissors are in my bags downstairs.”

            	“It’s fine,” Emberglow said hurriedly.  “It’s only for a little while, I’ll be fine.  Will you be okay in this heat?”

            	“I’ll manage, darling,” Rarity said. “This is far too important to let a minor inconvenience like the punishing sun to stop me!”

            	Heartwing was beaming.  “That’s the Rarity I remember.  It’s nice to see you getting back to normal, Rarity.”

            	“Psht, as if the end of the world could really get me down,” Rarity said with a smirk.

            	“Hear hear!” Heartwing applauded.  “Now skedaddle, ladies.  And have fun.”

            	The two mares trotted down the stairs, Emberglow following behind Rarity.  Downstairs, an adult zebra stallion was loading their saddlebags onto his back.  He smiled and waved as they came down the stairs.

            	“When my son told me we had pony guests, I nearly accused him of lying,” the stallion said.  “He was sure you were teasing him, and that you were really one of the kirin from across the Spine.”  He smiled.  “I am Bakari.  My wife Morning Sky and I own the Respite Inn.  Welcome.”

            	“Well, that was certainly more polite than the ‘welcome’ we received at the hooves of Sergeant Irontail,” Rarity said.  “I am Rarity, and this is my friend Emberglow.  Upstairs are Heartwing and Terminus Flash.  It is lovely to meet you, Bakari, and your inn is gorgeous.”  Her smile widened.  “I simply must compliment you on your son, as well.  Sky is utterly adorable.  Such a handsome little gentlestallion, and so well-behaved.  You should be proud.”

            	“Why do you think we leave him in charge of the front counter?” Bakari said slyly.  “Many zebras are willing to spend more when Sky is behind the counter.”

            	“I see,” Rarity laughed.  “Well, Emberglow and I were going to go looking for some local fashion.  I don’t suppose you could recommend a decent tailor?”

            	“A discerning pony such as yourself should be able to find plenty of options in the open air market, just a few blocks to the west.  But if you are truly looking for a bargain, you must speak with my friend Sure Stitches.  She is a miracle worker with needle and thread.”

            	“We shall see,” Rarity replied with a twinkle in her eye.

            	“You can find her shop in the market, just to the north of the square.  Most ponies cannot read our letters, but her sign has a picture of a bowtie made out of running stitches.”

            	“I shall not miss it, then.  Thank you for your recommendation, good sir.  We’ll be sure to return before dinner; your son said the chef comes highly recommended.”  Bakari was beaming as Rarity and Emberglow stepped out of the inn.


*   *   *   *   *


            	Outside, the two soldiers were still leaning casually against a building opposite the inn entrance.  Rarity didn’t hesitate; she walked boldly up to them with a winning smile.

            	“Excuse me, sirs.  I wished to inform you that Emberglow and I intend to explore your fine village’s open-air market.”

            	The soldiers looked surprised at her open boldness.  “So?” one of them asked.

            	“You both seem to be taking your assignment very seriously.  I simply wanted to make it easier for you to keep an eye on us, if that is your wish,” Rarity explained.  The two of them exchanged looks, and one shrugged.

            	“As long as you don’t leave the city going east, we’re not too worried,” the soldier said.  He pointed with one hoof.  “The market is that direction.  Don’t cause trouble.”

            	“Perish the thought, darling,” Rarity said, and she led the way towards the market.

            	“I really admire your confidence,” Emberglow whispered, and Rarity looked back over her shoulder.  “How do you do it?”

            	“’Fortune favors the bold’, goes the old cliché,” Rarity hummed in a sing-song voice.  “I learned years ago that this is just as true in business as it is in life.  One simply cannot be a successful fashion designer, business owner, and trendsetter without being confident, decisive, and perhaps a little brash.  And I’ve found that when I feel unsure, simply behaving with confidence can sometimes create confidence.”

            	“So it’s an act?” Emberglow asked.  The street suddenly widened, and the chatter and smells of an open-air market washed over her.  While similar to the Gold Run in Jubilation, this market was much smaller, and more subdued.  There were fewer street stalls and more brightly decorated storefronts, complete with window displays and colorfully painted signs.  It seemed that, while Jubilation wanted to keep ponies outside in the action, Nyumba Ya Joka wanted to draw them inside for a more personal experience.  Rarity began scanning the market with an experienced eye.

            	“Not entirely, no,” she commented, then turned a sly eye on Emberglow.  “Tell me, Miss Emberglow.  Can you tell when I’m feeling bold, and when I’m simply acting bold?”  Emberglow opened then closed her mouth, before silently shaking her head.  “Then it must be working.”

            	“So I just... pretend?” Emberglow asked, chewing her lip.

            	“It’s less about pretending.”  Rarity pursed her lips thoughtfully.  “It’s more about projecting what you want others to see and having that become your new truth.  It’s like putting on armor.  Except in this metaphor, the more you put on the armor, the more natural it feels.  It’s not dishonest, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  Heer eyes brightened.  “Hmm.  I have an idea.  Why don’t you choose the stall or shop we look at first?”

            	“M-me?  Rarity, you’re the expert.”

            	“Nonsense, darling.  Didn’t you say you were raised by tailors?  Besides, you’re practicing social confidence now.  Be decisive.”

            	“Um, yeah.  Okay.”  She glanced around at both the booths and the open air shops.  “That’s the one the innkeeper recommended, right?” Emberglow pointed with a hoof.  The sign was just as Bakari had described it.  “Let’s try that one.”

            	Rarity’s words ran through her head.  Projecting what you want others to see.  Putting on armor.  Making it natural.  She moved towards the shop, stepping in front of Rarity to lead the way.  With each step, she tried to roll her hips, imitating Rarity’s walk on the road outside of the village.  The motion was awkward, but years of martial arts training had given her a physical awareness of her body that made it at least possible to imitate the swaying, seductive gait.  She even swished her tail, just a tiny bit.

            	“Hmm,” Rarity hummed. “You are an attentive student, aren’t you?”

            	Emberglow stumbled and nearly tripped, though she managed to keep her feet.  She didn’t turn to look at Rarity for fear the other pony would see her crimson face.  She didn’t, however, stop how she was walking, and the slight hum of approval from Rarity made it all the better.

            	“Not bad for a beginner, I think,” Rarity teased.  “It might be time to move on to a more advanced flirting lesson.  You seem to have taken my teachings about non-verbal methods to heart, after all.”

            	“I have?”

            	“Indeed.  The bit with the tail was a nice touch,” Rarity cooed.  Emberglow stopped right outside the shop and Rarity walked up alongside her, flicking her own tail gently to brush against Emberglow’s flank and barrel.  Emberglow shivered, and Rarity’s eyes burned with amusement.  “We might have to move on to a lesson about teasing.”

            	“T-teasing?”

            	“Yes, teasing.  Let’s go into the shop, and I’ll give you a demonstration.”

            	Emberglow didn’t have a chance to ask what Rarity meant before she trotted past her to enter the shop, making sure to brush her shoulder and tail both along Emberglow’s side, the feathery strands of her tail just barely tickling Emberglow’s nose.

            	“The demonstration already began, didn’t it?” Emberglow muttered ruefully, and Rarity turned just enough for Emberglow to see her sly grin.  Emberglow tried not to notice that Rarity was doing ‘the walk’ again as they entered the door.  Somehow, the idea of this impending demonstration filled her with a giddy sort of dread.

            	The shop felt at once familiar and different to Emberglow, and it filled her with both nostalgia and homesickness.  Her childhood home had also been filled by rows of dresses and suits on hangers, and ponequins draped with both practical and decorative fashion.  Like her parents’ shop, this zebra clothing store had a similarly cozy feel, with little space between the rows of clothing.

            	The fashion, however, was quite different.  There were no heavier wools or thick cottons, only light linens and silks, all in bright, extravagantly colorful patterns.  It was a veritable rainbow compared to her parents’ more conservative shop back home.

            	Rarity’s reaction was delightful to watch.  Her eyes lit up, dancing among the racks of clothes, the colors, the patterns, the styles, taking it in like a thirsty pony drinks water.  Joy sparkled in her expression, and there was a graceful prance in Rarity’s step as she glided between the rows of colorful cloth.

            	“Welcome to my store!” called out a zebra from the far end of the displays.  “I am Sure Stitch.  Please let me know if anything catches your eye.”  Sure Stitch was a middle aged zebra mare, with the white stripes in her name dyed a shocking hot pink.  When the zebra saw that her customers were ponies, though, she trotted over with an excited gleam in her eyes.  “Ponies!  How exciting!”

            	“Hello, miss,” Rarity beamed.  “We were looking for something for my friend, here.  She needs something that will suit the heat, but also fit her figure.”

            	“Fit her…” Sure Stitch said, confused, her trained tailor’s eyes drifting over the garment Emberglow was wearing.

            	“She’s a pegasus, dear,” Rarity supplied helpfully.  Comprehension dawned in Sure Stitch’s eyes, which shifted to the wings folded under Emberglow’s clothes.

            	“I don’t have anything specifically suited to your kind, though I’m sure I could alter something if you find a piece you like.”  She sounded a little unsure.

            	“You probably don’t see many pegasi in your beautiful village, do you?” Rarity asked, and Sure Stitch nodded.  “Not to worry.  I can do any necessary alterations, we just need to find something that fits this gorgeous mare.”  Emberglow’s eyes widened at the unexpected compliment, and she felt a slight glow of embarrassment. 

            	“You have some skill at sewing?” Sure Stitch asked skeptically.

            	“Some skill, yes,” Rarity said cryptically, and she shared a smirk with Emberglow.  Her practiced eye drifted over the rows of cloth, and they lit up as soon as she saw something she liked.  “Oh!  This cream colored ensemble would go lovely with your fur, darling.  What do you think?”  She lifted the wrap in question with her magic and floated it over next to Emberglow.  “Oh, but it needs something to just set off your absolutely stunning eyes.”

            	It was the second compliment of her beauty in only a few minutes, and Emberglow had to stop herself from hiding her bad eye behind her mane.  She wondered if this is what Rarity had meant by teasing.

            	“Oh yes,” Sure Stitch said, her own eyes sparkling with amusement at either Rarity’s antics, or the color spreading across Emberglow’s cheeks.  “Perhaps a scarf?  Or a head covering of some sort.  You ponies may not be used to our heat, but they come in handy.”

            	“I had noticed,” Rarity said.  “Emberglow, you must share your secrets.  Here I am, melting in the heat, while you seem completely untouched.  How do you seem to stay so untouched by all the sweat and grime?”

            	Emberglow’s jaw dropped.  What in the name of all Saints was the mare talking about? Suddenly the gears turning in her mind clicked.

            	“This is… part of the teasing, isn’t it?” she whispered, and Rarity confirmed it with a smirk.  Sure Stitch looked questioningly at the two of them, but didn’t intrude in their private conversation.

            	“My friend Emberglow, here, has confessed herself to be a bit of a novice when it comes to flirting,” Rarity explained.  “I’ve volunteered to give her some demonstrations.  This afternoon’s lesson is about compliments and teasing.  I must say, I’m becoming rather taken with the lovely shade of dark pink she turns when she is properly appraised of her finer qualities.”

            	“I see,” Sure Stitch giggled.  “Miss Rarity, you must have gone to the same school of romance as my husband.  He too seems to delight in watching me blush and squirm under his excessive praise.”  She turned to Emberglow.  “You see, young lady, when someone flirts with you like this, it’s a double compliment.  First, because of the compliments themselves.  And second, because while they may be making you melt with embarrassment, you know that the entirety of their attention is focused on you.”

            	“Indeed,” Rarity giggled wickedly, looking pleased to have found a willing co-conspirator in her plot to make Emberglow blush.  “And how could I not lavish this deserving mare with praise?” she declared melodramatically.  Emberglow wanted to hide inside the folds of her poorly fitting robe while the other two mares shared an amused laugh.

            	“We should get back to finding her a head cover,” Sure Stitch said to Rarity.  “You wouldn’t want to lay it on too thick and make your poor mare melt from embarrassment, would you?”  She laughed.  Emberglow found herself fixated on one phrase.  ‘Your mare’.  A phrase that Rarity didn’t bother to deny.  It sent a shiver up her spine.

            	“Perhaps a similar color to the wrap, but with a turquoise fringe to set off her eyes, just as you suggested.”  Sure Stitch trotted off to find a suitable piece of clothing, and Rarity lowered her voice.  “It may be teasing, darling, but it’s all true.  You are quite fetching, especially when you’re embarrassed.”

            	“Why me?” Emberglow asked before she could stop herself.  She flinched at how insecure she sounded.  “I’m taller than you, and… uh… athletic.  Not really feminine like you.”  She almost felt compelled to add the last bit.  “And then there’s my eye…”

            	“Why do I find you attractive?” Rarity confirmed with a coo, and Emberglow nearly stumbled.  “Well, I don’t mind that you’re taller.  That’s a plus, actually.  I love the idea of being simply wrapped up and held by a larger pony.”  Emberglow’s long denied libido certainly stood up and took notice of that admission.  “And you may be fit, but that doesn’t do anything to take away from your femininity.  I wished we’d had more time back in my new shop in Angel’s Rest.  I could have shown you wonders.  Oh well; this Sure Stitch has a decent inventory.  I’ll be able to find something that will help me show you what I see.”

            	“What do you mean?” Emberglow asked.  Rarity’s statement had been cryptic.

            	“Well, darling, if…”

            	Whatever Rarity had been about to say was interrupted by a cry of triumph from the shop owner.  Sure Stitch rushed back to them, carrying what appeared to be a white scarf.

            	“Tell me, young ponies.  Is this your first trip to our fair country?”

            	“Unfortunately, yes,” Rarity said.  “With such sights, sounds, and flavors, I am just now realizing what an experience I’ve been missing.”

            	“Then you have little experience with zebra magic,” Sure Stitch said slyly.  With a flourish, she presented the scarf.  It was white and transparent, with an emerald green fringe.  “Tell me, ponies.  What do you see?”

            	“A… scarf,” Rarity said blandly, then shook her head and continued.  “The cloth looks like silk, and is partially transparent.  It seems a bit useless for keeping the sun off, but it is gorgeous.”

            	“Ah, but this particular garment is quite helpful for the sun,” Sure Stitch said smugly.  “Watch.”  As the zebra held the scarf up for Emberglow and Rarity to watch, the opacity of the cloth began to change, shifting until it was completely solid in color.  Rarity and Emberglow both watched with awe.

            	“How do you do that?” Rarity gushed, entranced.  “That was incredible!”

            	“Trade secret,” Sure Stitch taunted, and Rarity pursed her lips in a pout.  “Not much of one, though.  It’s really just a dye made from zebra potions.”

            	“Oh!  I once had zebra friend who was quite accomplished at making potions,” Rarity said.  “I wish I’d known she could have done something like this.  The dresses I could have made…”

            	“Dresses?” Sure Stitch said coyly.  “Miss, if you were making dresses out of this material, they would have been quite risqué.”

            	“Oh I know,” Rarity grinned.  “And quite daring, too.  So how does it work?”

            	“One simply needs to be touching the garment, and will it to become either more or less opaque.  That way, it can serve as either a head covering to block out the sun, or a veil to decorate.”  She paused.  “I must warn you, these garments are not cheap.  The potions to dye the cloth are quite expensive.”

            	Rarity and Sure Stitch began haggling in earnest.  In the end, they settled on a price that seemed far too high in Emberglow’s opinion, but left Rarity with a satisfied grin.  Sure Stitch even loaned Rarity the use of some of her tools in order to adjust the cream-colored wrap, to make it suitable for pegasus wear. 

            	The alterations themselves only took a few minutes; Rarity was a genius with scissors, needle, and thread.  Soon enough Emberglow was dressed in her own cream-colored wrap, with the scarf draped artfully about her head and mane.  She found that controlling the opacity of the scarf was a simple thing, much like willing her rune gauntlet on.  She had a few seconds of fun, shifting the scarf from solid to transparent and back again.  Rarity giggled at Emberglow’s silliness.

            	“We should get something for you,” Emberglow said, as soon as they had paid and Rarity was once again wearing her own robes.  Rarity shook her head.

            	“No, this trip was all about you,” Rarity cooed.  “I needed to ensure that you were the center of attention the entire time.”  She was back to her teasing flirting again.  Emberglow didn’t mind, even though she still couldn’t help but give the reactions Rarity was looking for.

            	“Are you sure?  We could at least find a way to get a bolt of the shifting fabric for you to work with when you get back to your shop.”

            	A cloud passed over Rarity’s expression.  “It’s a lovely thought, darling, but I just don’t know when I’ll be able to see it next.  This whole business of finding the Elements might take longer than we think.  I’d love to come up with something creative.” Her gaze shifted to Emberglow, and she grinned. “Creative and utterly daring,” her voice dripped with innuendo, “but it shall have to wait until later.  Still, the ideas are fun.  We may have to find a sketchbook or something I can draw out my ideas in.”

            	“Let’s do that then!” Emberglow latched onto the idea.  It would be nice for Rarity to get something out of this trip as well.


*   *   *   *   *


            	The four ponies were currently the only guests at the Respite Inn.  Emberglow and Rarity found their way into the dining room, right where the young zebra had told them it would be.  Heartwing and Terminus were there, and Rarity and Emberglow found places at a long wooden table surrounded by pillows. .

            	“Bakari said dinner would be any moment now,” Heartwing said as the two mares sat, nodding appreciatively at Emberglow’s new clothes.  He inhaled deeply, with a pleasured moan.  “Smell that?  I foresee curry in our near future.”

            	“Curry?” Emberglow asked, confused.  The other three stared at her.

            	“You’ve never had curry?” Rarity asked.  Emberglow shook her head.

            	“I’ve never even heard of it.  There’s not much exotic food in New Canterlot City.”

            	“Curry is absolutely divine, especially if you enjoy spice,” Rarity said excitedly.  “I’m sure recipes have changed while I was gone, but as long as it’s close to what I remember, you’re in for a real treat.”

            	Emberglow inhaled deeply, taking in the creamy, buttery smells of dinner cooking.  The scent of exotic spices filled the air, and she found herself rather excited about dinner.  Soon enough, Bakari brought out a huge steaming pot, a ladle, and four wooden bowls.  He placed the pot on the table and retreated with a smile.

            	The pot’s handle glowed with Heartwing’s magic and levitated off.  Fragrant steam filled the room, making her lean forward to better inhale the enticing aroma.  A collection of colorful vegetables and some sort of square cubes floated in a yellow liquid.  Heartwing eagerly began spooning out bowlfuls with the ladle, passing them out with his magic.  Emberglow could identify carrots, potatoes, green bell peppers, and okra, plus even more she’d never seen before.  

            	It took only a spoonful for Emberglow to gain an enduring love for curry.  It was spicy, but the burn she felt at the back of her throat was worth the explosion of flavor.  She noticed the other three were eating just as eagerly as she was, taking frequent sips of cool water from colorful ceramic cups to allay the burn.

            	Dessert was a sort of flat sponge cake that Emberglow didn’t recognize, something their host and chef referred to as ‘Mkate wa Mayai’, served with a cool iced tea.  By the end of dessert, though, Rarity was yawning widely.

            	“I’m so sorry, dears.  I seem to be…” Rarity was interrupted by a large yawn, which she hid demurely behind a hoof.  “Oh!  It seems the rather strenuous day is catching up with me.  Would you think me terribly rude if I retired for the evening?”  The other ponies shook their heads.

            	“I think we should all retire to the sitting room upstairs,” Heartwing said.  “While you ladies were shopping for clothing, Terminus and I browsed for a bit of local fare ourselves.”  He shared a smirk with his coltfriend.  “Did you know they make beer out of bananas, here?  We obtained a few bottles, they’re waiting upstairs.”

            	Rarity’s face twisted in a slight grimace.  “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

            	“Um…” Emberglow said, suddenly feeling quite awkward.

            	“Oh, don’t worry about me, darling.  You enjoy a drink with the boys if you like.  Just do try to be quiet when you come to bed, if I’m already asleep.”  She sighed, her voice growing nostalgic.  “I do wish we’d thought to bring a book or something.  I did always enjoy a bit of light reading before bedtime.”

            	“Yeah.  Of course, Rarity,” Emberglow said.

            	The four of them walked upstairs.  Emberglow followed Rarity as far as their shared bedroom.

            	“Uh, Rarity?” Emberglow was struck by a sudden thought.  “It might not be the bedtime reading you were used to, but you can always borrow my Book of the Saints.  You said you wanted to read about how history remembered you.”  She was a bit nervous about showing the book to Rarity; Emberglow was just starting to understand just how twisted and wrong the Book was.  “Only, please understand that I don’t… uh…”

            	“I know you don’t believe those things any longer, darling.  Thank you for your offer.”

            	Their saddlebags had been carried into their room.  Emberglow opened hers and found her personal copy of the Book of the Saints, complete with the blue diamond of Rarity’s cutie mark on the cover, stuffed in her bags next to her journal.  She gently lifted it out and passed it to Rarity.

            	“Oh!” Rarity accepted the book with the glow of her magic, eyeing the cover skeptically.  “I feel like maybe I should be upset about the use of my personal mark.”

            	“My parents gave me that as a gift, after I told them I wanted to be a Knight Radiant,” Emberglow whispered.  Rarity opened up the cover.

            	“’To Emberglow, our beloved daughter.  May these truths guide your hooves, and may these words always remind you of our love and pride’,” Rarity read.  “Your parents?”  Emberglow nodded.  “They are very special to you.”

            	“Yes,” Emberglow said, feeling an empty sort of pain in her chest.  She dashed at her eyes as they misted over with tears.  “Sorry.  It’s just, I haven’t seen them in a while.  I don’t think they even know I’m alive.”

            	“You’ll see them again, Emberglow,” Rarity said confidently.  “Do you know how I know that?”

            	“How?”

            	“Because you’ll make it so, darling.  You’re just like an old friend of mine.  Stubborn, hardworking, and determined to a fault.”

            	“When you say…”

            	“You remind me quite a bit of Applejack at times, dear.  Twilight Sparkle at others, to be honest.” She laughed.  “Now, go keep the colts out of trouble.  I’ll be here if you need me.”  Emberglow stepped out into the hallway and turned to wish Rarity a good night.

            	There was something in Rarity’s eyes, an unreadable sort of look.  Without warning, she leaned forward and kissed Emberglow’s cheek.

            	“I had fun today,” Rarity said softly.  Emberglow was frozen in place, her mouth agape.  Rarity giggled just a bit, then stepped back into the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind her.

            	“Um, goodnight Rarity,” Emberglow managed.  With a shaky hoof, she reached up and touched her cheek, imagining she could still feel the warmth of the soft brush of Rarity’s lips.  Somehow she stumbled back into the second floor sitting room, flopping down on some of the pillows.  She tried to ignore the knowing glances Heartwing shot her way.  He and Terminus were cuddled up together on a pile of large pillows, with one hoof around their partner, the other holding a bottle of beer each.

            	“You look happy,” Heartwing said blandly.  Emberglow nodded in a dazed sort of way, and the two stallions laughed.  “I suppose your date went well, then.”  She nodded again.

            	“Rarity is teaching me how to flirt,” Emberglow admitted.  “By, um, demonstrating.”  The laughter doubled, and Emberglow blushed, but she was grinning along with them.  “I think I like the demonstrating.”

            	“You appeal to her sense of romance by asking her to teach you,” Heartwing reasoned.  “And you appeal to the side of her that’s a bit obsessive and controlling by letting her micromanage her own seduction.  It’s pure genius, Emberglow.  That mare will be putty in your hooves in no time.  Or, more accurately, you’ll be putty in hers.”

            	“Is that what I’m doing?” Emberglow asked.  She realized she didn’t care; as long as the end result was more kisses on her cheek.  Or other places.

            	“Why not?” Heartwing shrugged.  He levitated a bottle over to Emberglow.  “Thirsty?  Banana beer is different, but interesting.”

            	“I don’t have much experience with regular beer, so I doubt I’ll be able to appreciate it,” she said.

            	“Be careful, then,” Terminus warned kindly.  “This stuff’s potent.”  The yellow glow of Heartwing’s magic popped the top off of the bottle, and Emberglow accepted it with a gracious nod.  Cautiously, she took a sip.  It was sour and sweet, a bit grainy, but mostly just tasted of strong alcohol.  It wasn’t her favorite, though it wasn’t terrible.

            	“Now that Rarity’s in bed, there’s something I wanted to mention, Emberglow,” Heartwing began as the three ponies nursed their drinks.  “Rarity is an optimist.  Knowing that the dragon Mlinzi used to be her friend Spike is going to make her think that he’ll be friendly.  She’ll go into that dragon cave thinking she can just charm her way to a positive outcome.” He shook his head.  “I doubt it will come to violence, but we need to be prepared in case it does.  If things get out of hoof, I might need you to drag Rarity out of there, to safety.  Can you do that?”

            	“I’ll keep her safe,” Emberglow said, determined.  Heartwing nodded.  “What more can you tell me about this dragon?”

            	“He was raised by Twilight Sparkle.  He was like a brother to her.  When she first moved to Ponyville, he was still a hatchling, a baby dragon.  He followed her everywhere, acting as her secretary and assistant.  And of course, her friends were his friends.”  Heartwing sighed sadly.  “Almost from the beginning, he had an obsession with Rarity.  He was completely head over scales for her.”

            	“She knew about it?” Emberglow asked, feeling a tickle of dread.  An old friend was one thing.  A bitter dragon angry about an ancient rejection was another.

            	“Everypony knew about it.  He thought he was being subtle, but it was the worst kept secret in all of Ponyville.  At one point in time, he even had a custom-made tee shirt with Rarity’s face inside a red heart.”  Heartwing snorted with amusement.  “It was at times both adorable and pathetic.  Then Rarity disappeared.

            	“It broke poor little Spike.  He wanted to spend all his time out looking for her, but he was also needed back at home with Princess Twilight.  Honestly, I don’t know how she could have functioned without him.  Rarity’s disappearance lessened him, somehow.  It forced him to choose between his adopted sister and his crush.  He chose Twilight, and I think he hated himself a bit for it after that.”

            	“What happened after Twilight Sparkle passed?” Emberglow asked.  Heartwing flinched, and she noticed that Terminus squeezed him tightly with one hoof.

            	“I guess you could say we lost track of each other,” Heartwing admitted after a long pause.  “I came here once to speak with him, before I set things in motion to infiltrate the Knights Angelic.  It didn’t go well.”  His reluctance was clear, and he took a large drink of his bottle to hide his face.  Terminus murmured something inaudible and kissed him gently on the forehead, just under his horn.  “Sorry… it’s… hard to remember what I’ve lost.”

            	Clearly there was subtext here, something more going on, but it was also obvious that Heartwing was unwilling to talk about it.  They drank in silence for a few minutes.  Emberglow tried to think of something that would break through the awkwardness.

            	“So how are we going to convince Mlinzi to give us the Element?” Emberglow asked.  “If you say he’s keeping it in his horde, he’s not likely to part with it.”

            	“If Twilight Sparkle gave it to him for safekeeping, he’ll be honor-bound to surrender it to the new Elements of Harmony.  If not, we can try to barter for it.”

            	“Barter?” Emberglow asked, confused.  “What do we have that we can…”

            	She was interrupted by a sudden crash of wood on wood.  Craning her neck, she glanced back to see that she and Rarity’s room door had been slammed open.  Rarity stormed out, her hooves stomping violently against the wood floor.  Her eyes were narrowed with fury, and the magic glowing from her horn sparked and sputtered.  An open book, Emberglow’s Book of the Saints, floated in the air just behind her.  Rarity marched out of the room, dramatically slamming the open book down in between the three lounging ponies.

            	“What is this?” she hissed.  Emberglow gaped, and Terminus looked concerned, but Heartwing was snickering behind a hoof.

            	“Oh, I was wondering when this would happen,” he hooted, and Rarity’s furious gaze rounded on him.

            	“You knew about this?” she accused, pointing a hoof dramatically at whatever passage had so offended her.

            	“Knew about…” Terminus began, and shook his head.  “Rarity, we have no idea what you’re talking about.”

            	“I’m guessing she just read chapter four, verse twenty?” Heartwing asked slyly.  Emberglow glanced at the page the Book was open to.  He was exactly right.  From what Emberglow knew, however, it was an innocuous passage, detailing the story of Saint Twilight’s first meeting with Saint Rarity.  Emberglow couldn’t see what about it would make Rarity so furious, or Heartwing so amused.

            	“How could anypony believe this… this utter filth!” Rarity demanded, slamming her hoof against the offending passage for emphasis.  “I absolutely cannot accept this!”

            	“Um, Rarity?” Emberglow tried to interject, but Rarity was on a roll.

            	“For hundreds of years, ponies have been reading these insults!” Rarity sputtered.  “Slander!  Filth!”

            	“If you’d just calm down long enough…”

            	“I just read that for centuries, ponies have been referring to me as… as…” Rarity gulped, gathering herself for the final push.  “As the Eternal Virgin!”  Her voice catapulted through two octaves as she shrieked the last, and Heartwing doubled over with peals of cackling laughter.  “Oh you would laugh, you… you fiend!  Here I am, having a completely reasonable and ladylike reaction to this insult, and you’re mocking me!”

            	“I’m sorry,” Heartwing managed, out of breath between gales of laughter.  “I really am.  But it is funny.  I was wondering how you’d react.”

            	“How did you think I would react?” Rarity demanded, her nose turned daintily in the air as her tail thrashed about angrily.

            	“About like this,” Heartwing admitted.  “I must say, I always did approve of your flair for the dramatic, Rarity.”

            	“I’m not being dramatic, I’m having…” She trailed off, glancing at the incredulous looks around her.  “Well, perhaps I’m being a touch dramatic.  But still!”

            	“I admit, being misrepresented by history can be frustrating,” Heartwing nodded.  “But I am curious about one thing, Rarity.”  There was an evil sort of smirk in his eye, and Emberglow dreaded what was coming next.  Rarity looked at him inquisitively.

            	“What’s that, darling?”

            	“Is it true?” he asked with a twisted smile and a raised eyebrow.  Rarity huffed angrily, and Terminus rolled his eyes, shoving Heartwing away with his forehooves.  “What?  Because even if it is, I think I know somepony that might be willing to help you fix that.”

            	Whatever he might have said next was lost, buried beneath Rarity’s incoherent shriek of rage and the sudden vicious bombardment of a dozen pillows, slamming down on the offending stallion under a glow of sparkling blue magic.
> Chapter 43
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 43


Untitled letter, restored and preserved in the secret sealed archives of the Knights Mystic.  Magically dated to 57 AF

…never thought I’d say this out loud, but I miss Cozy.  She certainly had an incredible mind for all of this.  I realize her genius is nothing compared to yours or mine, but she really understood… [segment missing] …ght Sparkle’s funeral.  The stupid cow never caught on to what we were doing.  I’m grateful you saw the letter before she had a chance to talk to those con-artist twins.  Did you see they found the bodies?  As far as I know, neither one… [segment missing]

            	…rysalis is dead as well.  I guess it doesn’t hurt anything to tell you now.  It was me.  She was going to upend the entire plan to serve her own ambitions.  I’m so glad you and Cozy never thought to try and strike out on your own.  You have always understood the benefits of sticking to a good plan, especially one that’s working.  Sombra’s dead too, but that one wasn’t me.  He was too far gone in his insanity.  In the end, it was windigos that consumed him.  Ironic, right?

            	[segment missing]…ppy the machine is working.  Your skill at magical artifice is profound.  This guarantees our revenge will continue long after both you and I are dust.  We have done it, my old friend.  We’ve paid them back for what they did to us.  I only hope Sunset realizes it was me before she dies.

            	Signed,

            	[REDACTED]

1113 AF, Nyumba Ya Joka

            	Morning came with the enticing scent of coffee and an only partially coerced apology from Heartwing.  Emberglow could tell that Rarity was still a little miffed about last night’s revelations, as she muttered grumbles about historical libel throughout the entire affair.  After a thoroughly stiff and awkward breakfast, the four ponies went downstairs to find Bakari deep in conversation with Sergeant Irontail.

            	“Bakari has agreed to store the things you will not be bringing with you today,” the zebra soldier announced. 

            	“You found a guide who is willing to show us the way, and keep us out of trouble?” Heartwing asked.

            	“Yes.  Myself,” the sergeant declared.  “It is the best way to ensure you cause no disruption to Mlinzi, and that you return promptly down the mountain when your business is done.”

            	“Yes, ma’am,” Heartwing said, with an exaggerated, comical salute.  Irontail ignored him.

            	“Are the rest of you ready to depart?” she asked instead.  The ponies all nodded their assent.  “Good.  I have packed a light lunch for us, assuming you don’t become lunch.  The hike up the mountain should take the better part of three hours.  I hope you are all prepared.”

“What’s the hike like?” Terminus asked.

            	“It’s several miles of switchbacks over rocky trails.  We don’t need to bother Mlinzi often, so we don’t maintain the trails very faithfully,” Irontail said. “It won’t be easy.”

            	“We’ll keep up,” Heartwing said, with a significant glance at Rarity.  

“This won’t be the first time I’ve hiked up a mountain to meet with a dragon, Heartwing.”  Rarity tossed her mane proudly.  “I’ll match you pace for pace.”

“This is no afternoon stroll for soft Equestrians,” Sergeant Irontail snorted at them all as she stepped out of the inn.  The ponies hurried to follow.  “Keep up or not.  It doesn’t matter to me if you never make it to Mlinzi’s home.”

            	They followed Sergeant Irontail out of Nyumba Ya Joka, this time to the east, towards the mountain that overshadowed the village.  Here, cool air was blowing down the mountain, a pleasant contrast to the warm, dry winds that had swept across the savannah on the other side of the village.

            	From Irontail’s description, Emberglow had expected a completely overgrown broken down trail.  As they stepped off the road onto the trailhead that would lead up the mountain, however, she was pleasantly surprised.  The trail was small, and a little rough, but it was nothing like the unmaintained trail that Irontail had alluded to.  At places where the trail became too steep to walk comfortably, somepony (or probably somezebra) had carved clumsy steps into the trail.

            	It was still a grueling hike, and the sun made an exhausting trek through the sky as they climbed until it hung over their heads like an angry eye.  The switchbacks were steep and aggravating, jackknifing up the mountain aggressively.  The cool wind which had been so pleasant down in the village was now a detriment, pushing against the ponies as they tried to ascend. 

            	When the group cleared the tree line, the trail ended in a wide clearing made of pounded dirt, cut into the mountain to create a flat pavilion.  In the center of the pavilion was a stone altar, with a wide carved wooden horn attached to the side via a metal chain.  Irontail halted, waiting for the ponies to gather around.

            	“This is as far as I go,” she said.  “This pavilion is where we come to communicate with Mlinzi if we need to.  On occasion, he also comes here to trade or barter for things he might need.”  Emberglow looked around the pavilion, searching for some sign that a dragon had rested here before.  There was nothing she could see.  “We have sworn to leave him alone, so we go no further.  If you choose to, the consequences are on your own heads.”

            	“Why did we even need a guide?” Heartwing muttered sotto voce.  Terminus gave him a quelling look.

            	“I will wait here for six hours,” Irontail said.  “Your path leads further up the mountain.  I am told that Mlinzi’s cave is impossible to miss, about an hour’s hike if you follow the path.  Meet me here when you are done with your folly.”

            	“Thank you for your guidance,” Rarity said graciously, pointedly ignoring Heartwing’s eye-roll.  “We will return as soon as our business is done.”

            	“You know,” Terminus mused teasingly, “If you wanted to, you land-bound ponies could just wait here with Irontail.  I’m sure Emberglow and I could be up and back within a half-hour.”

            	“Ha ha,” Heartwing deadpanned.  “Let’s get hiking, Lazyfeathers.  You can fly there if you carry me.”

            	“If you wanted a ride, you could have just asked,” Terminus waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Heartwing laughed heartily.  Emberglow took a few extra seconds to catch the double entendre, and blushed brightly.

            	“C’mon, you two,” Rarity scolded playfully.  “Leave the foreplay for when this is all over.”  She was apparently over her embarrassment from last night.

            	Despite the scowling zebra they were leaving behind, the four ponies set up the next section of trail with light hearts and a bounce in their steps.  Even Rarity, struggling a bit with the strenuous climb, was cheerful and smiling.  The three Knights matched their pace to Rarity, and Emberglow found she was barely winded by the time they reached the cave.

            	The cave was not at the top of the mountain; the switchback curved around a crest of the hill into a narrow canyon that ended in a dark cleft in the mountain.  Oddly enough, while the mountain above the tree line had been largely clear of brush and other plant life, a scattering of wildflowers poked out between the craggy rocks that topped the narrow canyon.

            	“It’s almost like he decorated,” Rarity commented.

            	“Or he fertilizes the dirt outside his home with the bones of unwanted visitors,” Heartwing whispered theatrically.

            	“Don’t be macabre, Heartwing,” Rarity sniffed.  She took a deep, steadying breath.  “Let’s go in.”

            	“While we’re inside, don’t touch any piece of his hoard,” Heartwing instructed.  “Some elder dragons have the ability to sense each piece of their treasure hoard, to the point where they know if it is being moved.”

            	“His hoard?” Rarity’s eyes sparkled. “I’m rather curious to see what sort of wonders Spike has amassed over the centuries.”

            	“Did you even hear what I just said, Rarity?” Heartwing sighed exasperatedly.  “Please don’t touch anything.  No matter how pretty it is.”

            	“Darling, you’re speaking as if I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

            	“I heard the story of what happened the last time you saw a dragon’s hoard, Rarity,”  Heartwing said, pinning her with a sharp glare.

            	“What?”  Rarity gasped.  “How could you have possibly…”

            	“Rainbow Dash told me.”

            	“But I was… I mean, that was…” Rarity sputtered.  “Misrepresentation!  She misrepresented me! Well, if you had been there, and seen those gems, and that jewelry…”  The other three were staring, and Heartwing was shaking with silent laughter.  Rarity took a deep breath, eyes narrowing in annoyance.  “Fine.  Malign my character.  Laugh at my expense.”

            	“Oh, Rarity.  Never change, okay?” Heartwing said fondly.  Rarity scowled at him.

            	“I promise to look only, Heartwing.  Will that be acceptable to you?” Her voice was pure ice.

            	“Of course, Rarity,” he said.  He motioned with one hoof to the dark mouth of the cave.  “Who would like to go first?”  This time three sets of eyes stared directly at him, and he laughed.  “Very well.”

            	Heartwing went in first, his horn lighting up with a gentle yellow light.  Rarity was right behind, with her own horn glowing blue.  Emberglow stuck close to Rarity, and Terminus brought up the rear.

            	As they descended down the gentle slope into the canyon that led to the cave mouth, the dark gaping hole loomed above them.  It seemed so much larger to Emberglow when she stood underneath the arched entrance.  It was a dozen pony-lengths above her, wide enough to admit a creature many times her size.  

At the Ivy Seminary, they’d learned about different class sizes of dragons, and even some very basic strategies for fighting dragons, but standing in the mouth of a dragon lair made her realize that education had been woefully inadequate.  Suddenly she missed very keenly the familiar weight of her armor and the comforting presence of her rune gauntlet.  She pressed closer to Rarity, ready to leap in front of her if things went poorly.

            	“Don’t worry, darling.  I’ll keep you safe if I need to,” Rarity said, completely misinterpreting the gesture.  Emberglow didn’t bother to correct her, though — having Rarity by her side did indeed make her feel better.

            	Emberglow had expected the cave to be dank and damp, but it was not.  There were no stalactites or stalagmites, only craggy stone surfaces that reflected the horn light oddly.  The sound of their hoofsteps echoed off the walls, and Emberglow could smell a faint odor of wood smoke, and oddly enough, musty books, in the air.

            	“Should we try to silence our hoofsteps?” Rarity whispered.  Heartwing shook his head, without taking his eyes off the cave ahead of them.

            	“We’re not thieves or burglars,” he said.  “We’re not doing anything wrong.  Mlinzi might have changed from the dragon you knew, but he’s not a brute.  He won’t attack us until he at least hears what we have to say.”

            	It wasn’t far into the cave when they saw the first glimpses of the dragon’s hoard.  It wasn’t gold or gems, but rather a bookshelf, carved into the stone itself, bearing a few dozen tomes.  Each level of the shelf used a different object as a bookend, from a jewel-encrusted globe on one, to a pair of polished crystal skulls on the next.  The bottom shelf used a marble bust of some creature Emberglow didn’t recognize; it looked like a unicorn, though the horn split off and flattened at the tip.

            	“Mlinzi hoards just like any other dragon,” Heartwing began.  “I’ve heard, though, that he prefers to collect items of significance, whose worth is measured in more than just bits.  I can guarantee that each object here has a history, a story or a narrative behind it.”

            	“I imagine that’s Twilight’s influence on his upbringing,” Rarity remarked, and Heartwing nodded.

            	“Indeed.  Though he’s likely to deny that any pony had any sort of influence on his current character.”

            	Deeper in, there was evidence of more traditional elements of dragon hoarding.  But for each pile of bits or glittering jewelry, there was another carefully arranged shelf of books, or wooden carved statue, or some other kind of artifact.  Emberglow felt an urge to stop and investigate each piece.  Each of the mysterious objects in the dragon’s hoard had their own rich histories behind them, and she could barely keep herself from stopping to inspect every single item.

            	“Odd.  He should have come out and confronted us by now.  Perhaps we could summon him.” Heartwing said.  The chamber up ahead was vast. As they entered, they saw the vaulted ceiling fade away high above them, high enough that the light of the unicorns’ horns barely even reached the craggy ceiling.  In front, the floor sloped gently downward, covered by more of the eclectic hoard. Their limited light didn’t reach far enough to see how the chamber ended.  

            	“How would we do that?” Rarity asked.  Heartwing grinned.

            	“Easy.  I told you Mlinzi can sense when somepony touches his hoard,” he said.  “I’ll just find a book that’s interesting and start reading.  Feel free to do the same, if you like.”   He selected a title and pulled it out of the bookshelf with his magic, leafing through the pages with a casual air.

Emberglow eagerly took him up on the offer, trotting over to the nearest of the bookshelves and beginning to browse the titles.  Most of them were in languages she didn’t understand.  There were a few Prench titles, and some in languages that used characters she didn’t even recognize.  She even found a copy of the Book of the Saints. 

            	Just as Emberglow was about to pull out a book that appeared to be griffon poetry translated into Equish, she heard a rumble in the darkness up above them.  

The whisper of leathery wings presaged a sudden rush of wind through the cave.  With a dramatic crash, a dark figure landed on the ground in front of the ponies.  Rarity let out a startled yelp, and Emberglow leapt deftly so that she was between the dragon and the unicorn. 

Mlinzi was massive.  Easily the size of Emberglow’s parents’ shop back home, he towered over the ponies.  He was dark purple in color, with a wicked-looking row of emerald spikes lining his spine and tail.  She could smell the scent of brimstone and old paper that seemed to waft off the dragon.  

His long neck snaked about so that he could glare at Heartwing.  Heartwing looked up at Mlinzi fearlessly, raised an eyebrow, and went back to his reading.

            	“That doesn’t belong to you,” the creature growled, his deep booming bass voice filling the chamber.  His eyes were frozen on Heartwing, boring into the unicorn.  “You don’t belong here.  Get out.”

            	“Now Spikey,” Heartwing cooed, oozing false politeness.  “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

            	“We are not friends!” Mlinzi roared, and Emberglow couldn’t help but cover her ears with her hooves, cringing away from the sudden noise.

            	“I wasn’t talking about myself,” Heartwing replied, pointing at Rarity with one hoof without looking up from his book.  “Look who I found.”

            	The dragon’s serpentine neck shifted so he could gaze at the other unicorn, and his eyes widened.

            	“No…” he breathed.  “It’s not…” He shook his head.

            	“Hello there, Spike,” Rarity said softly.  “You’ve certainly grown.”

            	“No.”  The dragon growled, his head moving back so he could easily see all four ponies at once.  “No.  I don’t believe you, Discord.  This is cruel even for you.  Did you finally make up with Flurry Heart, and borrow one of her pet changelings?”

            	“You must think so little of me, to believe I would try such a trick,” Heartwing noted.

            	“Little?” Mlinzi snarled.  “Discord, I think nothing of you.  You’re a vile, hateful, waste of breathable air.  I wish you would just do us all a favor and die!”  Terminus sprung in front of his coltfriend, ready to take the brunt of whatever attack he assumed would follow such an aggressive statement, but Mlinzi had already turned his attention back to Rarity, inhaling deeply.  “You look like her.  You smell like her.  But you can’t be her.  Rarity’s dead.”

            	“I assure you, Spike, that I am Rarity,” she said, shrinking back a bit with hesitation.  “I don’t know what’s happened to make you so angry at Heartwing, but you should...”

            	“I admit, you’re getting better,” Mlinzi continued, ignoring Rarity’s words.  “The last time I spoke with a changeling, they weren’t able to correctly imitate the smell of a pony.  It’s quite impressive, really.” He laughed humorlessly.  “I thought I was being needlessly cautious when I collected this.”  He reached over with a massive clawed hand, and with surprising delicacy plucked a wooden bucket off of a pile of gems.  “You brought this on yourself by going along with whatever damn fool plan Discord put you up to.”  Without further warning, he upended the bucket over Rarity.  A viscous green ooze dumped out of the bucket, splashing over Rarity, who jerked away with a dismayed yelp.

            	“What do you think you’re doing!?” Rarity yelled angrily.  “You’ve absolutely ruined my mane!  And does this wash out of a coat?  What about cotton?! I’ll have you know, if I have to replace this lovely robe I’ll be giving you a piece of my mind!  Just because you’re…” She trailed off.  Mlinzi was gaping at her, his fanged maw dropped open with surprise.

            	“You didn’t change,” he whispered.  “You were supposed to change back.  That’s what this is for.”

            	“I told you, Spike,  I am not a changeling!” Rarity stomped her hoof for emphasis.  Green sludge spattered on the floor of the cave. “I am Rarity!  Honestly, even after so much time I never expected you to behave so brutishly.”

            	“You’re her.  You’re really Rarity,” Mlinzi breathed.  “By the Dragon Lord’s Egg, you’re really here.”  He lowered his head, so that it was right alongside her.  “You don’t know how long I looked.  How long I wondered.”  His expression hardened, and he jerked away as if burned.  “Well.  You’re really back then.  Congratulations I guess, Rarity.  Now get out.”

            	“What?  Is that how you greet an old friend?” Rarity protested.  “You swoop down, startle us, accuse me of being an imposter, dump sludge all over my perfect mane, and then demand we leave!  I think not!  Why, if Twilight Sparkle were here…”

            	“She’s not.  Get out.”

            	“If you’re going to toss us aside like so much garbage, at the very least you could ask why we came!” Rarity demanded.  Emberglow could see angry tears brimming in her eyes.  Mlinzi sighed angrily.

            	“Fine.  Why are you here?”

            	“Well, we need to—”

            	“GET OUT!” he interrupted, snarling at the four of them.  Rarity and Emberglow both jumped, jerking away from the naked fury on his face.

            	“Not without the Element you’ve been keeping,” Heartwing said.  “As soon as you hand it over we’ll be out of your scales.  We intend to...”

            	“I don’t care what you’re going to do,” the dragon muttered.  “I have nothing to give to you, Discord.”

            	“I know Twilight gave you the Elements to hide, Mlinzi,” Heartwing said.  “I know you kept one.”

            	“You don’t know anything, you traitor.  Last chance.  Unless ponies have become fireproof in the last few centuries.”

            	“Spike!” Rarity shouted.  “You stop making threats this instant!  You should be ashamed of yourself!”  

Emberglow stared open-mouthed at the fearless unicorn.  How could she possibly not be terrified for her own life right now?  The dragon loomed over them all, and the light from the unicorns’ horns cast even larger baleful shadows on the ceiling above.  

“I was preserved by the Tree of Harmony herself, and tasked with reassembling the Elements,” Rarity continued.  “If you have one, you need to give it to us!”

            	Mlinzi stared at Rarity. "'Us'?” he asked slowly.  “You’re working with Discord to restore Harmony in Equestria?”  He laughed bitterly.  “You have no sense of irony.” 

            	“That’s not fair, Spike,” Rarity protested.  “Heartwing might be rough around the edges, but it’s clear he has changed.  He’s doing his best!”

“His best?” Mlinzi snorted.  He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.  “He hasn’t told you, has he?”  

At that, Heartwing flinched. Rarity’s eyes widened as her gaze darted uncertainly between Heartwing and Mlinzi.  Emberglow felt a cold, nervous sort of dread enter her gut.  

“Ask him, Rarity,” Mlinzi said with a sinister grin.  “Ask him the secret he’s been hiding from you.  Go on.  This will be the most fun I’ve had since the last time I tossed Discord out on his plot.”

“Heartwing?” Rarity asked, confused.  “What is he talking about?”

“Mlinzi.  It’s past and done.”  Heartwing pointedly ignored Rarity’s question.  “That has nothing to do with...”

“Ask him!” Mlinzi crowed to Rarity, leaning back as if to watch the coming spectacle. “Ask him who killed Twilight Sparkle!”

The cave grew deadly silent.  Emberglow couldn’t even hear herself breathe.  Every eye was locked on Heartwing.  Finally Rarity laughed nervously.

“Of course he’s just making things up, Heartwing.  Right?” Rarity asked. Her tone was almost begging.  

Heartwing looked away, looking more exhausted than Emberglow had ever seen him. “Rarity, I…” he began, before faltering.

“Heartwing?” She sounded stricken.

He was silent and still for a long while.

“Heartwing?” Rarity’s voice was tiny, almost a whimper.

“I am responsible for her death.”  He sounded so defeated, though his eyes were resolute.  “That’s why…”

“Yes, tell them all of it,” Mlinzi sneered.  “Tell them about how you destroyed Ponyville, and we barely had enough time to get everypony out in time.  Tell them about how she begged you, on her knees, to see reason.  Tell them how you laughed as you took apart the school she loved, brick by brick, until it was rubble.  And she even told you what would happen if she had to put you back into stone.”

“Heartwing?” Rarity whimpered.  Terminus had moved to stand next to his coltfriend supportively.

Heartwing closed his eyes and took a breath.  “It’s all my fault, Rarity.  Everything.  If I’d listened to her…”

“None of this would have happened,” Mlinzi finished, slashing the air with one claw.  “Not the Diarchy, not the endless wars, not the hundreds of thousands of pony deaths.  It’s all on you.”  He turned his back on the ponies.  “See yourselves out.  I think we’re done here.”

“Heartwing, what…” Rarity began.

“I have no excuse.” He hung his head.  “I’ve spent the time since I woke up trying to atone, but…”

“You have been!” Emberglow cut in.  She felt the uncomfortable weight of the eyes on her, but she had to speak up.  She hated the way the proud stallion .  “He deserves the benefit of the doubt!”

“Aren’t you a naïve little twit?” Mlinzi muttered, his back still to the three of them.

“Fluttershy had just…” Heartwing gulped, his eyes distant and unfocused, lost in memory and long-past shame.  “I was mad with grief.  I wanted...” Tears streamed from his eyes.  “The loss was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.  I didn’t know how to handle it.  I… “  He shook his head.  “I can’t remember much of what was going on in my head.  I might have wanted to make it all end; anything to make it stop.”

“You were unstoppable.  Uncontrollable,” Mlinzi accused.  “All of our friends who were still alive begged you to stop.  To come to your senses.  Twilight, Trixie, even Sweetie and Applebloom.”  Emberglow felt Rarity stiffen beside her.  She spared a glance; Rarity’s face was frozen in grief.

“In the end, she had to use the Elements, even though she wasn’t connected to them any longer.”  The great serpentine head once again turned to face the ponies.  “Maybe she waited too long, because she thought you were her friend. Maybe Ponyville might have survived if she’d acted sooner, if she’d died sooner.  OR MAYBE YOU COULD HAVE COME TO YOUR SENSES AND SHE’D STILL BE ALIVE!” 

The motion was sudden, violent, and completely unexpected.  Mlinzi’s whole body spun, a single claw swinging out and swiping at Heartwing.  

He struck with the backside of his claw, impacting with a hard, meaty smack.  The strike knocked Heartwing sideways through the air and into a low stone table full of artifacts.  Bits and pieces of the dragon’s collection scattered across the floor in a cacophony of chaos.

“Spike, no!” Rarity shook herself from her grief, her horn igniting as she tried to run over to where Heartwing was lying.

“That’s not my name, Rarity!” he screamed with rage, his entire body coiling to launch himself over to where Heartwing had fallen.  With a single flap of his wings that created a gust strong enough to push against the other ponies, he leapt and landed right next to the fallen Heartwing.  “I have nothing to do with ponies any longer; not their problems, and not the childish name they gave me!  Did ponies stand beside my family as she fought this worm?  Twilight Sparkle stood alone and she died alone!”  

Mlinzi’s claw slashed through the air to pummel Heartwing’s side, slamming him backwards into Terminus.  The duo tumbled to the floor. In a heap   Terminus panted and tried to stand, but far too slowly.

The dragon charged across the cave in a flash.  Emberglow’s breath caught with terror as the wickedly sharp claws glinted in the dim light.

Emberglow saw Rarity galloping forward to stop him, but she was moving too slowly.  Emberglow’s instincts took over.  She spread her wings and launched herself as hard as she could.

“I should rid the world of you!” Mlinzi hollered, raising his claw above the fallen ponies.  

It was now or never.  With all the force Emberglow could muster, she slammed into Mlinzi’s head, jerking him sideways. He grunted in shock, his claws cutting through the air above the downed stallions, just a hair from Heartwing’s flesh.

Emberglow landed in a heap on the floor, her entire body aching from the impact.  She didn’t have time to rest.  Pushing against the burning pain from her joints, she struggled to her hooves.  

She leapt over to where Terminus had just found his own hooves, standing above Heartwing.  The two Knights shared a brief look, then turned to face the dragon.

“No,” Heartwing rasped from between them.  Emberglow spared him a glance as he struggled to his hooves.  “No.  Leave them alone, Mlinzi.  Don’t hurt them for my sake.”

For the briefest of seconds, Emberglow thought she saw a glimmer of red light from the back of the cave.

“Fine by me.”

Mlinzi’s claw came down.  Heartwing’s horn glowed gold.  A sudden pressure, a solid wall of force, pushed Emberglow away.  She let out an angry yelp as she was forced away, and Terminus did the same.

The sound of claws slamming into a glowing shield turned her gaze away from the darkness.  Heartwing grunted, his hooves digging into the ground.  The claw pressed down.

“Dragon Mlinzi!” Emberglow shouted, her hooves slamming against the invisible wall that kept pushing her back, to safety, away from the fight.  On the other side of Heartwing, she could see Terminus doing the same.  “We’re not going to let you kill him!  The world needs Heartwing!” 

“Like Tartarus it does!” the dragon shot back, looming over all three of them.  He raised a claw and slammed the other down.  Again.  Again.  The stone cracked under Heartwing’s hooves.

“Emberglow!” Heartwing ordered, voice breaking with strain.  “Get Rarity out!  This is my…”

Mlinzi swiped his claw sideways.  The shield flickered and faded.  Heartwing was tossed to the side, landing with a thud.  The wall of force disappeared, and Emberglow rushed forward.  Terminus beat her there.

The two of them hovered, floating over Heartwing.  Emberglow’s heart pounded.  All she could see before her was the furious dragon.

“Spike, please, wait!” Rarity screamed, her own horn lit.  She was too far away.  Mlinzi began to inhale, a great gasp of air that pulled Emberglow forward and filled her with dread.

“Stop!” Heartwing screamed, and a flash of golden light filled the cave.  Emberglow was frozen, seized in an aura that surrounded her, Terminus, Rarity, and even Mlinzi.  “Stop…” he repeated, gasping.  Emberglow could only move her eyes, but she could see Heartwing shaking from strain.  “No fire.  No more fighting.  I know you have it.  Take me, instead.  My life for the Element.”

Mlinzi’s lungs deflated with a puff of sulfur-laced air rather than the killing flame that Emberglow had been sure was coming.  He eyed Heartwing, who was beginning to pant and gasp with exertion.  A trickle of blood oozed from one nostril.  “Would you really?”

The spell shattered, and Emberglow and Terminus both slumped to the floor, only to bounce up a second later, once again lunging between Heartwing and the dragon.

“No!” Terminus shouted as Mlinzi surged forward.

“You heard him yourself, Knight!  It’s a trade.”

“You would even consider it?  How dare you!” Emberglow hissed up at the dragon.  “Maybe Heartwing was responsible for something, centuries ago.  But he’s not that pony any longer!  All I see is a flawed pony doing his best to fix his own mistakes, and a coward hiding in a dark cave!”

An orange glow joined the two glowing unicorn horns in the room, followed shortly by a soft pink one.  Emberglow couldn’t spare a look, because her eyes were fixed on the dragon, but she was sure her Element was glowing, and  Terminus’ as well.  Her legs were shaking, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Rarity clutching her hooves to her mouth in terror.

“What are those?” Mlinzi gasped, rearing back on his hind legs.

“We told you, Sp… Mlinzi,” Rarity called out.  “We’re finding the Elements of Harmony.  Terminus bears the Element of Kindness, and Emberglow carries the Element of Honesty.”

“You’ve… found two of them,” Mlinzi declared.  All of the fury and violence had drained out of his voice and his posture.  Now he simply appeared exhausted.

“Mlinzi.  Please.  If Twilight gave you an Element to safeguard, let us have it,” Rarity begged.  “If you ever saw me as your friend…”

“Rarity.  I knew you for what, five or six years?” Mlinzi scoffed.  “That’s less than one percent of my life.”  He sighed.  “You were barely a footnote.  I’m done with ponies.  Done with their crises, done with their drama.  I just can’t care about ponies anymore.”

“Oh?” Rarity said angrily.  “So if you don’t care about ponies any longer, why get so angry about what happened to Twilight?”

Mlinzi spun to face Rarity, and Emberglow hurried to place herself between Rarity and the dragon.  He spared her an amused glance.

“Please, Spike.” Rarity’s voice quavered.  “If you can honestly tell me that Twilight gave you nothing to keep safe, we’ll turn around and leave.  But if she trusted you—”

“Wait here,” Mlinzi interrupted.  He flapped his wings, nearly bowling the ponies over as he lifted his massive body into the air.  He disappeared into the back of the cave, where the light of the glowing unicorn horns did not penetrate.  Emberglow spared a glance at her Element, still held in the pouch under her robes.  It had stopped glowing.

Soon enough, the dragon returned, bearing a chest in his claws.  He laid the chest down in front of Rarity.  It was larger than Emberglow had expected, about half as tall as Emberglow herself, and the same width.

“There’s your bequest, Rarity.  The last thing Twilight Sparkle left for you.  And with that, I’m done with ponies forever.”  He turned to Heartwing, still slumped and defeated in the heap where Mlinzi’s blow had flung him.  “The next time I see you in my cave, I’m going to incinerate you.  No warning, no talk.”

Heartwing nodded.  With a glance at Rarity, he rose to his hooves and levitated the chest.  With a motion to the others, they began to back out of the cave.

“Farewell, Spike,” Rarity called softly.  The dragon grunted.  With a sad sob, she turned to leave as well.  Emberglow was last, bringing up the rear of the ponies.

“You there.  Honesty.  Wait just a moment,” Mlinzi called loudly.  All four stopped, and the dragon snorted.  “Did I say all of you?  No.  Just Honesty.  The rest of you get out.  Don’t worry, I won’t hurt her.”

All four ponies looked at each other, concerned.

“He used to be a dragon of his word,” Rarity whispered.  “Now…?  I don’t know.”

“I’ll see what he wants.  Go ahead,” Emberglow said.  Rarity seemed reluctant.  “Get them to safety, Terminus.”  Terminus nodded, using his wings to prod and usher Rarity and Heartwing out of the cave.  Emberglow turned, and flew over to where the dragon waited.

“What do you want?” she asked suspiciously.

“You’re a Knight, right?” he asked, eyeing her.  “But not one of Heartwing’s.”

“How can you tell?”

“I can smell the enchantment on you.  And you’re too… naïve and innocent to be one of Heartwing’s.  Call it intuition.  Or maybe you just confirmed it.”  The dragon shrugged.  “Anyways, you’re not one of his.  You’re not loyal to him.”

“He’s my friend,” Emberglow protested.  The dragon laughed.

“Discord is incapable of having friends,” he sneered.  “But that’s not why I called you back. I’ve got something for you.”

“What?” Emberglow couldn’t help her curiosity, despite the tone of the whole meeting.

“Here,” he said uncomfortably, picking an artifact off the table in one of his claws and tossing it to the ground at Emberglow’s feet.  

She eyed it curiously. It seemed to be an ancient bronze shield.  On the front was etched a four-pointed star, with pegasus wings, over top of a laurel.

“You take that,” he hissed.  “And promise me she’ll be safe.”

“You still care about her,” Emberglow said, staring at the shield with wonder.

“Promise me,” Mlinzi repeated, laying the shield at her hooves.

“I swear,” Emberglow said, picking up the shield.  The second her hooves touched it, she felt the thrill of power in the artifact.  She didn’t know how, but this shield was something special.  Something magical.

“Swear on your Element,” Mlinzi rasped.

“I swear on the Element of Honesty,” Emberglow said.  She turned the shield over to reveal a pair of rotted straps.  They would have to be replaced, but Emberglow didn’t think Rarity would mind.  Emberglow would probably be able to do it herself, if she had to.

“Cross your hooves and hope to fly, eh?” Mlinzi said wryly, then snorted at Emberglow’s blank look.  “Good enough.  Get out.  Don’t come back.”  He turned his back on her, and Emberglow slowly backed away, keeping her eyes on the dragon until his figure disappeared into the dark shadows of the cave.

The other three were waiting for her outside, looks of worry on their faces.

“What did… oh my.”  Rarity’s voice was full of surprise and awe.  “That’s Flash Magnus’ shield, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Emberglow admitted.  “He just gave it to me.  He made me promise to keep you safe.”

“That’s… kind of him.”  Rarity’s voice sounded lifeless.  She glanced between Emberglow and the chest.  It was still unopened.  “Well, let’s be on our way.” 

The trip down the mountain was not nearly as cheerful as the trip up.  Nopony spoke. The events that had happened in the cave brought a shroud of silence that pressed down almost stiflingly on them.  Emberglow had to fight the urge to take to the air and fly ahead, if only to escape the gloom that had settled on the group.  

After a hike that felt far longer than their first trip had, they finally reached the clearing with the altar, where Irontail waited for them, her perpetual scowl fixed in place.  Without even a hint of friendly conversation, she led them back down the mountain to the village below.


*   *   *   *   *


Walking downhill was much more strenuous than walking uphill.  After a while, Emberglow decided to do away with dignity and chose to hover next to the other ponies rather than hiking.  This earned her an envious glare from Heartwing and Irontail, but soon enough Terminus joined her.  Rarity seemed too lost in her own thoughts to even notice.

Every time Emberglow looked at Rarity, she ached for the pain Rarity must be feeling.  To be honest, Emberglow herself wasn’t too deeply affected by the revelation; she’d never known Twilight Sparkle, and had never been her close friend.  Emberglow could only imagine what Rarity was going through, what she was thinking.

The four of them went straight back to the inn when they reached Nyumba Ya Joka.  Irontail, still a bit nonplussed by all of them, bid them farewell with at least a modicum of politeness.

“I’ll be going to bed,” Rarity announced as soon as they reached the second floor sitting room.

“Rarity, wait,” Terminus said, after glancing at Heartwing, who remained silent.  “We’d all like to see what we came for.  We need to see what was in that chest.  Please.  For closure.”

“Closure?” Rarity scoffed.  “Certainly.  If closure is important.  Closure like being able to say goodbye to one’s friends before they die.”

“Rarity!” Emberglow shouted.  “You don’t need to be cruel.”

Rarity ignored her accusation as she levitated the chest into the center of the room.  The latch on the front was closed but not locked.  It lit up with her magic, and she swung back the top of the chest, coughing daintily as a small cloud of dust puffed out.  The four ponies leaned forward to see what was inside.

There were four objects inside.  The first was a golden torc, complete with a lightning bolt shaped red gem, the Element of Loyalty.  The second object was a small, ornate wooden music box, complete with a closed lid.  The third item was a ledger, bound by a cord.  Last of all was a book.  Emberglow couldn’t read the title; it was written in an arcane language she didn’t understand.

“Well, at least we found an Element of Harmony,” Terminus said.  “I wonder what the rest of it is.”

“Mlinzi did say it was left for Rarity at Twilight’s request,” Emberglow said.  She shared a look with Terminus.  It seemed the two of them would be responsible for carrying the bulk of the conversation, with the other two ponies deep in their respective funks.

“What’s the other thing?” Terminus asked.  He glanced at Rarity for permission, who shrugged, and picked up the music box.  Very gently, he pushed back the hinged lid to reveal a meticulously carved image of Princess Twilight herself, dressed as a ballerina.

“Oh, I remember that story,” Heartwing said, his voice lost in memory.  Terminus nearly reached for the key to wind the music box when a note fell out from the lid, and he cautiously picked it up and unfolded it.

“Um, it’s for you,” Terminus said, sounding both confused and surprised as he handed the note to Rarity.  

She took it with her magic, studying it silently for a few moments.  

“Would you read it out loud?” Terminus ventured. Rarity shot him an annoyed look.  “Well, we’ve all got an interest in this, Rarity.  It’s not like it’s only your business.”

Rarity grunted, but began reading. “To whoever reads this note, whether Sunset Shimmer, Starlight Glimmer, or Rarity, please turn the key to this music box using your magic and your magic only.  Only one of the three of you can unlock this construct.  Love, your friend, Twilight Sparkle.”  Rarity’s voice grew more curious as she read the words aloud.  

With a glance at the other ponies, she lit her horn and wound the key.  When she let it go, the music box sprung to life.  The ballerina Twilight, far more articulated than a mere mechanical artifice, began to spin and dance gracefully in place as a bright tune plinked out of the inner workings of the box.  Everypony watched, fascinated, as the miniature princess twirled about.  When she finally came to a stop, she bowed, and looked directly up at Rarity.

“Hello, Rarity,” the music box said, and everypony jumped back with surprise.  “I am a magical construct, created and developed by Twilight Sparkle.  I have been awakened by the unique touch of your magic.  It is my purpose to answer questions related to the objects of your inheritance, your possible destiny, and the final subjects of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s research.  Are you in a place where you trust everypony that can overhear?”

“You sound just like her,” Rarity whimpered, her eyes brimming with tears.  With some surprise, Emberglow realized that Heartwing was also weeping. 

“I’m sorry, that was not an answer to my query,” the construct said.  “Please answer with a yes or a no.”

            	“Yes, darling, yes.”  Rarity shook her head, her eyes fixed on the tiny princess.  “Please.  I wish to know everything Twilight wanted to say to me.”

            	“I will begin with the introductory message.”  The construct cleared its throat, and when it began speaking again, it had the same voice, but this time heavy with emotion, somehow more real than before.

            	“Rarity.  Oh, where do I even start?” The voice that came out was exhausted, and sounded scared.  “I don’t know if or when you’ll ever hear this.  I have no idea what happened to you, but please know I looked.  I looked for years, Rarity.  I wish I had more time, but I don’t.  Somepony has to bring Discord to his senses, and there’s nopony left but me.  The Elements won’t choose new bearers, so I have to bend them to my will in order to turn him into stone again.  I won’t kill him; someday he’ll regret what happened today.  In his heart, he’s a good creature, even in his current madness.”  The voice sighed.

            	“The date of this recording is fifty-four years after you disappeared.  If you’re hearing this, then every plan I’ve made, every failsafe, every backup, has failed.  I didn’t want to ask this of you, Rarity.  You’ll note that ‘Rarity saves the world by herself’ is so far down on my checklist that I hope it never comes up.  I’m so sorry to have to ask you to do this, but if you’re hearing this message, then things have gone so much worse than I ever thought possible.

            	“I was a fool, Rarity.  I’m sure if you’d been here, you would have seen it coming.  The way those Canterlot politicians slowly manipulated me out of power after Celestia and Luna moved on.  The way ponies behind the scenes stirred up trouble between Canterlot, Manehatten, and Cloudsdale.  You would have seen the strings that led to the puppetmaster’s hooves, if not even the puppetmaster him or herself.  I wish you’d been here.  You could have stopped me from making a fool of myself, from basically signing away the government of Equestria into the hooves of idiots and con-ponies.”  There was another long sigh.

            	“Now I have to rely on you.  Hmm.  That’s actually a comforting thought.  To know that even though things are bad, I’ve left ponies behind who can pick up the mess I left.  Please, Rarity.  Listen to what I have to say.

            	“In this chest, I’ve left one of the six Elements of Harmony.  The other five I’ve scattered throughout the world.  I’ve asked Spike to give them to our friends and trusted allies to hide, after I’ve passed.  And I’m sure this will kill me.  I don’t know how Celestia survived when she did the same thing to banish Nightmare Moon; it wasn’t something I ever had the courage to ask her about.  

“This construct knows who will have the Elements, but you’ll have to piece together where they’ve been taken from that.  I specifically asked them not to tell me, so as to keep them safe and secret.

            	“Somepony is conspiring to destroy Harmony all over Equestria.  And I don’t mean harmony as an abstract concept, but the literal gestalt field of Harmony magic that permeates the entire land.  It’s generated by several sources; the balance and harmony between the pony races, the Elements themselves, the Crystal Heart up north, even the very presence of Alicorn Princesses generates it.  And somepony is plotting to destroy it.  They’re behind Sombra’s attacks on the Crystal Empire up north, they’ve been recruiting ponies of ill repute throughout Equestria.  They’re behind Cozy Glow and Tirek’s escape from Tartarus.  In fact, I’m pretty sure the only thing they’re not behind that’s gone badly the last few years is Discord’s insanity.

            	“I’ve compiled everything I know about the plot in the ledger, left inside the chest.  There’s precious little, but what I have is yours to look over.  Maybe, with time and more context, you’ll be able to make sense of what happened.

            	“The second book is a spellbook.  Be warned, Rarity.  If you open that book, there’s no going back.  If you want to live your life in peace and quiet, settle down somewhere, maybe open a few dress shops and be just as successful as you always were going to be, then ignore this construct, ignore the book, and walk away.”  The construct smiled, and there was something so proud and knowing in the expression that for a second Emberglow forgot it wasn’t a real pony.  “But if you want to save the world, then open the book.  I believe I know what you’ll choose.

            	“The third gift is this construct.  Rarity, this isn’t me.  It’s a program, a very limited intelligence created by magic.  It’s like a talking encyclopedia.  It can answer some of your questions, and I’ve programmed it with a few answers.  Hopefully it will give you some information.  Maybe it will help you find some closure.

            	“Rarity, be safe.  Be strong.  But most of all, be yourself.  Whatever state the world is in right now, I’m sure it could stand to be a bit more elegant, more charming and more fabulous.  You hold all my hopes in your hooves, Rarity.”  Some of the light of emotion left the construct’s eyes.  “Message complete.  Do you have an inquiry, Rarity?”  

In the silence that followed, the only sound Emberglow could hear was quiet sobbing.


*   *   *   *   *


            	

Rarity had been dead silent when the two of them had retired to bed that night.  Emberglow had left her alone to her thoughts. No matter how badly she wanted to take the mare in her hooves and comfort her, wiping away her tears, she knew that Rarity wanted solitude.  

In the morning, the two mares prepared for their day in complete silence.  Emberglow left the room first, to find the other two waiting for her.

“So, what happens now?” Emberglow asked Terminus, pointedly ignoring the tired dejection on Heartwing’s face.

“We need to speak with Rarity.  That construct she found has some answers about where the other Elements went,” Heartwing said.  “We’ll wait for her.”  Everypony looked down.

“I’m here,” Rarity came walking up the hallway.  Her voice was flat and a bit downcast.  She placed the construct into the center of the room.  “You can ask what you wish.”

“Construct, we need to know where Twilight hid the Elements of Magic, Laughter, and Generosity,” Heartwing said to the music box.  The tiny ballerina remained silent.  He glanced at Rarity.  “Perhaps she only responds to you.”

“Twilight, darling,” Rarity said.  “We’d like to know where the Elements of Magic, Laughter, and Generosity are kept.”  The music box sprung to life with Twilight Sparkle’s voice once again.

“The Elements were all given to friends and allies.  Generosity was hidden in Canterlot, under the care of Sassy Saddles’ son, who inherited your shop there.  The Element of Laughter was given to Flurry Heart for safekeeping.  And Magic was given to Captain Celeano to hide somewhere in the seas.”

“We knew that last one, at least,” Heartwing said.

“I suppose we should head back to Jubilation, then.”  Rarity glanced at Heartwing.  Her voice was coldly neutral.  “Will you be heading back to Equestria once we get there?”

“Rarity…” Emberglow began warningly.  Terminus looked angrily at Rarity, but Heartwing held up a hoof, forestalling any more out of either of them.

“What do you mean, Rarity?” Heartwing asked softly.

“Well, I only thought, because of what we learned at Mlinzi’s cave, that perhaps…”

“Perhaps I would abandon all of you?” Heartwing spat.  Rarity flinched.  “Leave you to fend for yourselves?  Run away and hide in Angel’s Rest?”  His eyes blazed with fury.  “Rarity, what kind of pony do you think I am?”

“I don’t know, Heartwing,” Rarity shot back.  “I thought I knew, but now I’m unsure.”

“I’m the same pony you’ve been travelling with all these weeks.”  His voice lowered, and his eyes filled with unshed tears.  “Rarity, I’ve spent the last three hundred years regretting those moments, and doing everything I can to atone.  If you think I’m going to give up on that, you’re wrong.  I’d never abandon their memory and their legacy, and I’d never abandon you, either.”  

There was a humming sound, and suddenly the room was filled with a flash of red light, pulsing from the mares’ room.  All eyes were drawn to the open door, and without a word the four ponies dashed over to look inside.

            	Laid out on Rarity’s bed were the other objects kept within the chest; the ledger, the spell book, and the Element of Loyalty.  It glowed brightly with a cheerful sort of red light.  Rarity and Heartwing both gaped at the glowing gem, but Emberglow and Terminus looked at each other knowingly.  Terminus reached up with his hooves, gently shoving against Heartwing's flank to push him into the room.

            	“Go on,” he said.  “You know why that’s glowing, love.”

            	“But…”

            	“Go, Heartwing!” Terminus demanded, leaning with his whole weight to shove Heartwing into the room.  Heartwing stumbled forward, sprawling against the side of the bed.  With his eyes full of awe and disbelief, he reached out to touch his Element with his hoof.

 
> Interlude: What Heartwing Saw
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: What Heartwing Saw


            	“I have to say, I didn’t see this coming.” Heartwing’s sardonic drawl filled the twilight void about him.  He glanced down at the path of stars, jumping with shock when he saw his own limbs.  “Hmm.  We’re going for a more classic look in this little head trip, it seems.”  Indeed, he was back in his own body, with mismatched limbs, a serpentine form, and even the same mismatched horns.  “I wonder…” he snapped the fingers of his lion’s paw.  Nothing happened.  “Oh, poo.  Ah well.  Rainbow Dash, I assume you’re present somewhere?”

            	“Psht.  Of course you would spoil a decent entrance,” the figure was up above him, hovering as was usual, her very posture betraying her contempt for hooves, walking, and all things ground based.  Heartwing smirked up at her.  “I mean, it’s almost like you have no sense of theatre.  What happened to you, Discord?”

            	“Another few hundred years in stone?” Heartwing shot back.  “Thousands of regrets?  The blood of ponies on my claws or hooves or whatever?”  He shook his head, very unused to his old, elongated muzzle.  It felt weird to be out of place in his own body, the one he’d lived in for centuries.  He must have been becoming more of a pony than he thought.

            	“None of that matters, you know,” Rainbow said dismissively, swooping down suddenly to bop him on the muzzle with one hoof.  “You need to stop beating yourself up and come to terms with reality.”

            	“But Flurry and Spike…”

            	“Don’t matter.  They’re wrong about you.  You need to start listening to that coltfriend of yours.”  Rainbow scoffed loudly.  “He’s got a good head on his shoulders, and a fair amount of awesome himself.  I don’t know how you bagged a stallion like that.  He’s got brains and looks, and he’s nice, too.”

            	“I don’t deserve him,” Heartwing whispered, and Rainbow rolled her eyes.

            	“Wrong, wrong, wrong,” she declared, smacking him on the head for emphasis with each repetition.  “You’re so wrong, you idiot.  Look around you.”

            	There were images.  Visions of the past.  Most were from the last few hundred years, of course, but there were a scattered few from the distant past, as well.  Heartwing, weeping in front of a statue of Fluttershy.  Heartwing, refusing to disappear when the ponies he’d never wanted to lead put their faith in him.  Heartwing personally delivering the news of each casualty to their heartbroken families, ignoring his own pain, ignoring his own hurt, to try and bring them the smallest bit of comfort.  Heartwing, offering himself to Mlinzi so his friends could take the Element.

            	“I gotta say, I never thought it’d be you,” Rainbow said, as the two of them, side by side, watched some of Heartwing’s darkest and most triumphant moments.  “But if you really think about it, it makes complete sense.”

            	“Not really.” Heartwing shook his head in denial, though it was hard to shut out the images around him.  “All of this… this isn’t the whole story.  This doesn’t show what I’ve done wrong.  What I’ve screwed up.  The lives I’ve ruined.”

            	“You know,” Rainbow mused,  “sometimes ya gotta remember that the effort is just as important as the result.  Think about it, dummy.  You’re one of the most loyal ponies alive.  Maybe you screwed up here or there, but you’ve done the very best you can for the ponies around you on the way.”  

She waved a hoof dramatically.  “For three centuries everything you’ve done has been dedicated to your friends who have passed.  To fix their legacy.  You’ve been fighting all this time for Twilight, for me and AJ and Pinkie and Rarity.  And for Fluttershy.  If that’s not loyalty, then I don’t know what is!”  She patted him hard on the back.  “It’s about time you start taking credit for just how awesome you are, Heartwing.”

            	“You…” he stammered, unsure.  “You’re calling me by the name I chose.  Not the one I was born with.”

            	“Well, duh,” Rainbow swooped around so she was in front of him once more, her face right on his, her eyes intense.  A small smirk twisted her mouth.  “It’s because you’re not the same as you were before.  You’re not Discord any longer, no matter what Spike or Flurry might say.  You’re Heartwing.  And Discord was kinda cool, I guess,” she rolled her eyes and tossed her mane dismissively,  “but Heartwing is AWESOME!  Maybe about twenty percent less awesome than me, but that’s still pretty awesome!”

            	Heartwing looked down at himself.  His draconequus form was gone, replaced by his now more familiar unicorn body.  For a moment he marveled at his hooves, and reached out to touch his horn.

            	“Yeah, yeah,” Rainbow muttered.  “There’s some kinda metaphor here.  I’m not an egghead, so I don’t know what all this means, okay?  But it’s about time you get your rump in gear and stop punishing yourself for stuff you did hundreds of years ago.  You’re the oldest out of all the Elements, and that means they’re gonna need your experience and wisdom.  Keep ‘em safe, okay?  And when things get hard for Rarity, you stand right by her side like the good friend I know you can be.”

            	Heartwing knew a cheesy pep talk when he heard one, but for some reason he couldn’t help but feel inspired.  With a smirk of his own, he held a hoof out for Rainbow to bump.

            	“I promise,” he said, as the two of them struck hooves together.
> Chapter 44, Part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 44


Recording of a Radio Free Equestria broadcast, taken 1113 AF. Listening to, recording, or possession of so-called ‘pirate radio’ broadcasts are to be considered an act of heresy and will be punished accordingly.

Hello hello HELLO to all my faithful listeners, it’s me, your favorite pony Cutting Wave, broadcasting from PARTS UNKNOWN AND UNKNOWABLE, and you are listening to me on…

Radio…

Free…

EQUESTRIA!!

Tonight we’ve got a blast of a show for you ponies, lemme tell ya.  Because we managed to catch wind of an unprecedented development in Equestrian history, a defection unlike any other.  Here, in the studio with me is the one and only Fiery Mantle, once a blathering puppet for the theocracy, but now his mind is free.  And he’s here tonight to tell us all about it!  Fiery, welcome to the program.

FM: Uh… hello.

CW: So how long did you work for EVOE?

FM: I’ve been in broadcast journalism for three decades now.  First I was just a producer for the show, but for the last fifteen years I’ve been one of the voices.

CW: That’s a lot of experience on the radio.

FM: Yeah.  I always knew I was going to be a journalist.  Even when I was a foal, just getting my cutie mark.  But I was so naïve back then.  I had no idea what I was getting into.

CW: Tell us what you mean.

FM: When you’re a foal, just getting your mark, you’re full of dreams and ambition.  You’re going to change the world.  Only you haven’t quite gotten enough brains to know how the world really works.  Someday, everypony grows up and learns the truth.

CW: The truth?

FM: It’s not like it’s a surprise to you, Wave.  The news is managed.  You know it, I know it.  Anybody who’s really listening out there knows it.

CW: Well, yeah.  Wouldn’t be much need for pirate radio if the news were really reporting the truth, right?

FM: And don’t you think we didn’t want to.  Every Saints-damned day.  Did you know AM and I were scripted?

CW: Scripted?

FM: Yeah, mostly.  Obviously it’s not word for word, but everything we’re going to say on the radio, every bit of dialogue, every story, every interaction, every canned joke, is approved by the censors before we go on the air.  And AM and I are allowed to improvise, but they put us on a twenty second delay, in order to interrupt anything problematic.

CW: So you know I gotta ask, then.  What happened during your last broadcast?

FM: Perfect storm.  They should have cut me off earlier.  I should have self-censored.  Somepony at the censor’s office was asleep, somehow AM and I got sent different copy.  I swear, it was an accident.

CW: But it sent you down the path that led here, right?

[Static]

CW: Folks it [static] technical difficulties with our broadcast, we’re going to [static] quick break, and be back [static] things working again.

1113 AF, Nyumba Ya Joka

            	“Rarity?  Are you okay?” Emberglow asked, watching her friend stare at the catatonic Heartwing in shock.  

Rarity just shook her head silently, stepping out of the room.  

Emberglow frowned. While she’d been willing to leave Rarity alone with her feelings earlier, she wasn’t willing to let this drop now.  She followed Rarity out of the room.  “Please talk to me.”

            	“I’m going to need some time to handle this, Emberglow,” Rarity said frankly.  “I’m going to speak with Twilight for a while.” The request for solitude was implicit in Rarity’s tone, but she didn’t feel inclined to grant it.

            	“I’ll join you,” Emberglow said cheerfully, willfully ignoring the annoyed look that Rarity shot her.

            	“If you insist,” Rarity said neutrally, and Emberglow tried not to feel hurt.  The two of them walked back into the sitting room, where Rarity had left the construct.  “Twilight, I’d like to know about Discord’s responsibility for your death.” Her voice was bitter.

“I don’t blame Discord for what happened.  I blame myself.” Twilight Sparkle’s voice echoed from the construct, and Rarity’s eyes widened.  Emberglow could hear the guilt and regret that filled the recorded message.

            	“I should have seen what was happening.  I should have seen the panic in his eyes as Fluttershy faded.  I should have noticed the signs that he wasn’t going to handle the grief well.  I should have been a better friend.”

Rarity let out a short sob.

            	“Instead, I was too caught up in what I was discovering.  I found hints of a conspiracy to eat away at the Harmony magic that envelops Equestria.  I thought this would be the most important thing for me to focus my time on.  How could I have been so blind?  I’m the Princess of Friendship, for Celestia’s sake, not the Princess of Finding Out About Conspiracies.  In the end, it’s going to cost us both everything.

            	“Discord snapped when Fluttershy died.  In retrospect, it makes perfect sense.  This is the first time Discord has had to deal with real loss and grief.  Before, he didn’t make friends, so he didn’t care when ponies died.  Can you imagine living for thousands of years, never experiencing grief or loss that way?  He was completely unprepared for the emotion, and it broke him.”

Rarity was shaking her head in wordless protest.  Emberglow reached out with a hoof, then set it down without saying anything.

            	“Whichever one of you is seeing this message, if it’s Sunset, Starlight, or Rarity, please be patient with him.  I don’t know how I know, but I’m sure he’s involved in whatever efforts there are to fix Equestria, to bring it back to what it should be.  I’ve caught glimpses, brief impressions of the future. I don’t know where this prescience comes from, but I trust it.  I know Discord will regret what he’s done, but please don’t let him wallow in it.  I won’t ask you to forgive him.  But please tell him that I forgive him.”

            	“Stop!  Stop, Twilight, I can’t!”  Rarity was breathing heavily.  The construct stopped speaking.  Emberglow watched her closely as she stared, Rarity’s face a mix of terror, fury, and grief.  “I won’t forgive him.  I can’t.”

            	“You have to tell him,” Emberglow said firmly.  Rarity glared at her.  “I didn’t say you had to forgive him yourself.  But you have to tell him that Twilight forgave him in the end.  And if you don’t, I will.”  Emberglow held out a hoof to rest on Rarity’s shoulder.  Rarity jerked away.

“It’s my job, remember?” Emberglow tried to ignore the twist in her gut.  “I’m the Element of Honesty.”

“But he…”

“What would Twilight have wanted?” Emberglow hated pushing, but it had to be done.  It wasn’t fair to Heartwing to keep this from him.  

            	“I’ll tell him,” Rarity sniffed, after a scowl at Emberglow.

            	“Thanks.”  Emberglow took a deep breath and tried to change the subject.  “What are you going to ask next?”

            	“I think I’m going to leave Twilight alone for a while,” Rarity shuddered.  “I’m not quite ready for more uncomfortable revelations right now.  I believe I’d like to see what’s in the spell book that Twilight left.  Though how she thought that would be useful to me, I don’t know.  I’ve never had her talent for magic.”

            	At this point, Heartwing and Terminus stumbled out of the mare’s room.  Heartwing looked dazed, and one of them (probably Terminus) had placed the golden necklace that held the Element of Loyalty around his neck.  It had shifted, like Emberglow’s and Terminus’, to be shaped like a reflection of Heartwing’s cutie mark.  It was now a butterfly in profile, just like the one on Heartwing’s flank.

            	“Twilight, dear?” Rarity called out as the two of them stared at her.  “Please play the message you just played for me.  Heartwing should hear it.”  Without even another glance at the stallions, she brushed past them and into her and Emberglow’s room.  Emberglow followed after as the Twilight construct began playing the same message.

            	“Thank you for telling him, Rarity,” Emberglow said softly.  Rarity’s back was to her as she stared at the spell book and ledger that were both still sitting on Rarity’s bed.  Rarity said nothing.  Emberglow sensed her desire for silence, so she quietly shut the door behind her.  “You know, you could always ask the music box about…”

            	Rarity’s horn glowed and the cover of the spell book turned.  There was the faintest puff of dust as the pages rustled.

            	“I don’t understand,” Rarity said softly as Emberglow moved over to look.  “The pages are all full of symbols I can’t read.  Why did Twilight think…”

            	She cut off as a sudden wave of invisible power rocked the room, pushing both ponies back and scattering Rarity and Emberglow’s effects about the room.  Purple tendrils of glowing power, looking like the appendages of some sort of eldritch horror, emerged from the pages of the book. The symbols inside glowed with arcane power.

            	The tendrils latched onto Rarity’s horn.  She gave a shriek of terror, trying to jerk away as quickly as she could.  It was too late; the glowing appendages were already wrapped tightly around Rarity’s horn.  They pulsed with glowing magic and stuck fast, unmoved by Rarity’s panicked thrashing as she screamed.  Emberglow dashed up, attempting to grab onto the tendrils with her teeth, to pull them loose.  She encountered nothing but air; it was as if there was nothing to bite onto.

            	“Rarity!”  She called out frantically.  “I can’t…”

            	There was a massive surge of light, and a second explosion of power.  This time both ponies were knocked onto the floor.  Emberglow surged to her hooves, ready to spring into action again to defend Rarity, only to find...

            	Nothing.

            	The tendrils were gone.  The book, still opened on the bed, now appeared completely blank.  The arcane symbols were missing entirely.  There was no evidence whatsoever about what had just happened.  She rushed over to Rarity.

            	“Are you okay?”

            	“I-I think so, darling,” Rarity stammered.  “Do you have any idea w-what just happened?”  She raised a hoof to her horn.  “I feel strange…”

            	“Maybe we should ask the music box,” Emberglow said.  “Or Heartwing.”

            	“Yes.”  Rarity’s voice was dazed.  “Yes,” she said more confidently.  “Let’s show him the book, as well.”  Her horn lit up to levitate the book, and it glowed much more brightly than it had before.  Rarity didn’t seem to notice until the aura of magic surrounded the book, and it shot through the air to bounce off the ceiling.  With a yelp of shock, Rarity’s horn flickered out and the book plopped harmlessly onto the bed.

            	“What happened?” Emberglow couldn’t help the concern or fear in her voice.

            	“I-I don’t know.”  Rarity’s gaze flickered between Emberglow, the book, and the ceiling.  “I went to lift the book, using the same amount of force I always do, and suddenly it shot into the air as if it were a tenth the weight.  It’s like I forgot my own strength.”

            	“Let’s go ask Heartwing,” Emberglow insisted.  “I’ll find my rune gauntlet, too, so I can cast a few diagnostic spells.”  She helped Rarity to her hooves.

            	“I feel fine,” Rarity protested, but she didn’t refuse the aid. 

            	Suddenly the door flew open in a flash of yellow magic, to reveal a worried-looking Heartwing and Terminus.  Heartwing dashed over to Rarity, his eyes sweeping over the disarray in the room before landing on the two mares.

            	“Is everything okay?  We heard screaming, and banging.”

            	“We think so,” Emberglow replied.  “But we need the music box so we can find out what just happened.”

            	Terminus backed out of the room to go fetch the music box, and Heartwing looked around.

            	“What exactly happened?” he asked.

            	“Rarity opened the spell book.  There were runes I didn’t recognize on the pages, and they started to glow.  Tendrils of magic came out and grabbed Rarity’s horn for a second, jerked her around a bit, then disappeared.  When it was over, Rarity seemed fine, but misjudged her strength when she tried to lift the spell book.”

            	“Hmm…” Heartwing looked puzzled.  “I’d like to see what the music box says, too.”  Terminus returned with the object in question, laying it on the bed.  Rarity cleared her throat.

            	“Um, Twilight, darling.  Could you please tell me more about the spell book you left with my bequest?”

            	“The spell book is enchanted with a creation of Starswirl’s, known as Starswirl’s Arcane Transference.”  The tiny mare took on a lecturing tone, and Emberglow blushed as she remembered all of the times Heartwing had compared her lecture voice to Twilight’s.  “Please be careful not to open it until you listen to the full explanation.”

            	“Whoops,” Heartwing scoffed.  Rarity scowled at him, holding a hoof over her lips in a shushing motion.

            	“When you open the book using your magic, the spell will automatically activate.  Please remain calm.  The process will only take a few minutes, though it may be uncomfortable.  The purpose of the spell is to increase your internal magic reserve, making you capable of casting more powerful unicorn magic.  The spells you already know will increase in power, and spells once outside your reach will become possible, such as teleportation.

“This is possible because Starswirl’s spell stores a piece of the caster’s own essence, giving it to the recipient.  It is what the other alicorns cast to hide their magic in me when Tirek first attacked.  I now use it to give a small piece of my own potential to you.

            	“Please be warned.  Starswirl’s Arcane Transference isn’t perfect.  There is a small risk involved.  You need to be informed before you choose whether to open the book. There are possible side effects.  The power could be too much for you, and you could be cut off from your magic.  It may be permanent.   These chances are tiny, though, and given the dangers you might be facing, and the tasks ahead of you, you might need expanded magical abilities.

            	“If you would like any additional information about the spell, or about any other spells you can now learn, this construct is equipped with instructional lessons on intermediate and advanced spellcasting techniques.”

            	While the music box was talking, Emberglow located her armor and put on her rune gauntlet after checking the battery.  When it finished speaking, she approached Rarity.

            	“How do you feel?” she asked.  Rarity was staring at the box in chagrin.

            	“A bit foolish, to be honest,” she said.  “I suppose that will teach me to look before I leap.  Though why couldn’t Twilight write some sort of warning and place it on the outside of the book?”

            	“It does seem the simplest of solutions,” Heartwing agreed.  “But then again, Princess Twilight often did have trouble with the obvious.”  

            	Rarity glared at him. “I’d rather not speak to you about Twilight right now, Heartwing.”

            	“Getting back to the matter at hand,” Emberglow interrupted.  “I need to see how Rarity’s doing.  Official doctor business, so all of you clear out.”  She made a shooing motion with her hooves.  Terminus backed out willingly enough, and after a pause, so did Heartwing, though he rolled his eyes before closing the door behind him.  “Lay down on my bed, please.”

            	“Emberglow, do we really have to—“

            	“I’d like to be sure that spell did no lasting harm, if it’s okay with you.”  Emberglow tried to keep the worry out of her voice, but it was hard.

            	“Very well.  If it will soothe your mind,” Rarity said, and Emberglow realized she hadn’t quite been successful hiding her own feelings.  Rarity laid down on the bed, and Emberglow cast the most basic of diagnosis spells.  Rarity watched with fascination.

            	“It really is quite beautiful when you Knights cast spells,” Rarity said.  Emberglow nodded, concentrating hard on the information the spell was giving her.  According to what she could tell, Rarity was in perfect health, though there were more detailed spells she could cast.

            	“Do you have any symptoms of illness?” Emberglow asked.  “Headache?  Nausea?  Dizziness?”

            	“None of those,” Rarity said.  Emberglow looked at her eyes, looking for signs of head injury, concussion, confusion, even shock.  Her diagnosis spell told her that Rarity’s heart rate was elevated, but other than that she seemed completely healthy.

            	“Now what about your magic?  The music box suggested there was a chance your ability to do magic could be impacted.”  She was swimming in unfamiliar waters here; her medical studies had included almost no information about how unicorns used magic, so she was worried she wouldn’t be much help.

            	“Well, I nearly put the book through the ceiling,” Rarity admitted with a flush of embarrassment.  “The enchantment seems to have worked exactly as Twilight intended.  It may take time to get used to the adjustments, though.”

            	“Can you try to lift something?” Emberglow asked.  “Something not breakable.  Like a pillow.”

            	“Very well.”  Rarity’s voice was unsure, and her horn lit up.  There was something different in the cerulean glow.  It was brighter, perhaps more vivid, than Emberglow remembered.  Slowly the glow surrounded one of the pillows on Rarity’s bed.  It jerked into the air, and Rarity let out a startled yelp.  The pillow froze in midair, and then slowly began descending again.  Rarity’s face was screwed up with concentration.

            	“How does that feel?” Emberglow asked, cursing her lack of experience.  She’d have to ask Heartwing to find her a text about unicorn biology.  “Compared to your normal magic usage, that is.”

            	“It’s hard to describe,” Rarity said.  Her horn lit up and she tried again.  The pillow once again shot into the air, and this time Rarity wasn’t able to stop it until it plopped against the ceiling.  She cringed and dropped the pillow back onto the bed.  “It’s exactly the same, only… more.  I don’t know how else to put it.”

            	“I’ll take that as a good sign,” Emberglow said.  “I’m sorry, I simply never studied much about unicorn magic, except various techniques for combating it.”

            	“I wonder if Twilight recorded anything on the subject,” Rarity mused.  “Twilight, dear, do you have any information on unicorn biology?”

            	“That information has not been stored in this construct,” the music box responded blankly.  Rarity shook her head with disappointment.

            	“Sorry, darling.  It looks like you won’t get to learn unicorn medicine from Princess Twilight.”

            	Emberglow hadn’t thought about it like that, but now that Rarity mentioned it, she felt a sense of loss.  What an incredible opportunity that would have been!  With difficulty, she set the thought aside.

            	“I can’t say for sure, but you appear to have reacted just fine to the spell Twilight Sparkle put on the book,” Emberglow said.  “I’d like to check once a day.  And you are going to keep practicing with your telekinesis, right?”

            	“Of course.  I can hardly go about my daily business without being able to lift things, can I?” Rarity asked.  Emberglow rolled her eyes, and waggled a hoof at Rarity.  “Oh please,” Rarity laughed.  “Why use hooves when I have another option?”

            	“You might have to learn if you’re having a hard time controlling your magic,” Emberglow admonished.  Rarity sighed.

            	“I suppose I can do some basic things with my hooves, like lift cups and utensils.  But I shall not do so forever!”  She sounded determined.  “I’ll just have to practice.”

            	“Good.” Emberglow grinned.  “Well, as your doctor, I clear you to return to your normal life.”  She laughed at that last phrase.  

            	“What is normal now?” Rarity asked, echoing Emberglow’s own thoughts.‘Normal’ had gone on vacation forever, it seemed.  For both her and Rarity.  

Rarity sighed, glancing at the door.

            	“What are you going to do about Heartwing?” Emberglow asked bluntly, sensing Rarity’s train of thought.  Rarity shook her head.

            	“I’d rather not think about it right now, Emberglow.  Twilight may be right to forgive him, but I don’t know if I can take that last step.”

            	“We’ll have to travel with him.  You’ll be able to get along?” Emberglow asked.  Rarity eyed her askance.

            	“You’re asking if I’m capable of behaving?” Rarity huffed lightly.  “You’re just as blunt as your predecessor.  Don’t worry, I can be civil.”

Civil.  The word left a bitter taste in her mouth.  From friendship, to civility?  Suddenly it wasn’t about Heartwing any longer.  Fear clenched at her chest as she saw everything they’d started to build together, everything that had happened before meeting Mlinzi teetering at the edge of a cliff of civility.

            	“What if I don’t want you to just be civil?” Emberglow breathed.  She opened her mouth to say more, but froze.  She wanted… she wanted more of what was happening before the dragon.

Selfish.  Not everything is about you.

She blinked suddenly wet eyes.  Rarity reached out a hoof, resting it comfortably on Emberglow’s shoulder.

            	“I’m sorry, Emberglow.  I’ll do my best, but right now, I just don’t see that happening.  Don’t worry.  Nothing will change between us, at least.”  She let out a sigh.  “Let’s go see if the stallions are ready to go.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	Packing up was a rather awkward affair.  Rarity kept to herself, ignoring everypony else while shooting longing glances back to her own saddlebags, where the construct was kept.  Heartwing just looked like he was still in shock.  Every so often he would take out the Element of Loyalty and simply stare into the gem.  Terminus and Emberglow kept glancing at each other.  Emberglow could see just how worried Terminus looked, but every time one looked at the other and opened their mouth to begin speaking, nothing came out.

            	Finally, they left the inn.  The adorable young foal was no longer at the counter; instead, his father was running the front desk.  He gave them a stern look as they packed out.

            	“Had I known you were here to harass our protector…” he muttered as Heartwing settled their final bill, then shook his head.  “Nevermind.  Please do not return.  The Guardian deserves his peace.”

            	“I don’t know if I’ll ever come back,” Heartwing said.  “Thank you for your hospitality, though.”  The innkeeper grunted and took their money, and the four ponies left the building.

            	Outside, it seemed as if somepony, probably Sergeant Irontail, had spread the word of why they had come to Nyumba Ya Joka.  Gone were the curious glances from the zebra townsfolk; now the stares ranged from unfriendly to downright hostile.

            	“I can’t understand,” Terminus whispered.  “We didn’t do anything more than talk with him.  Why are they so upset?”

            	“They truly do love their Guardian,” Heartwing answered.  “He keeps them safe, in exchange for practically nothing in return.  He simply wishes to be left alone, and we ruined that.”

            	“We had to, though,” Terminus said.  “Don’t they…”

            	“We can’t change their minds, Terminus,” Heartwing reached out and pulled Terminus into a quick hug.  “They’re going to dislike us no matter what we do.  Let’s just go.”

            	Irontail was silent as she arrived with her escort of soldiers.

            	“You’re ready to go?”

            	“Yes, please,” Heartwing said politely, ignoring the cutting antagonism in her query.  “We’d like to leave as soon as possible.”

            	“Come with me,” Irontail said coldly.  The four followed behind.  Emberglow kept looking at Rarity, trying to get a sense of what the mare was thinking.  But Rarity’s eyes were distant and unfocused.  Emberglow said nothing, but she found herself sighing out loud.  That earned her a slightly confused look and the smallest of smiles.

            	It was something, at least.  Maybe it was too much to hope for the same cheerful flirting she’d gotten before the mountain, before Mlinzi and his revelations.

            	They ignored the frigid looks from the villagers until they were outside the village itself.  Irontail continued to escort them until they were far from the last buildings of Nyuma Ya Joka.

            	“I’ll ask you not to circle around back to the village,” Irontail said significantly.

            	“We have no plans to,” Heartwing said.  “We got everything we needed from Mlinzi.  Thank you for your hospitality.”

            	Irontail snorted, and motioned with the butt of her rifle at the road ahead of them.  With no further farewell, they began to trot down the road back west, towards Jubilation.

            	As soon as they were out of sight of their paranoid escort, Rarity’s horn lit with an unsteady blue glow.  Emberglow watched her intense look of concentration, her brow furrowed.  Rarity’s saddlebag popped open, and Princess Twilight’s spell book levitated out.  It was unsteady, dancing about in the air, dropping or shooting up, until finally coming to a gentle float in front of Rarity’s face.  She opened it up and began to read.

            	“Rarity, are you sure you should be reading while we walk?”  Emberglow understood the significance, but it hurt to see the other mare hiding behind a book.

            	“I’m sure it will be just fine, darling, but we shouldn’t waste too much energy on idle conversation.  It’s rather hot out, and I don’t see any convenient clouds nearby.”

            	The dismissal stung, and Emberglow couldn’t help but flinch away.

            	“Careful, Rarity.  Reading while walking?  I’d swear you’re turning into…” Heartwing never got to finish what he was about to say.

            	“You shut your mouth, you villain,” Rarity hissed, and it was Heartwing’s turn to flinch from her fury.  “Don’t you even dare.”

            	“Rarity…”

            	“If I am to grow stronger, as Twilight clearly wishes, I’m going to have to study, aren’t I?  As inconvenient as that sounds, we seem to be frequently under some sort of urgency.  So if you’re all quite done, I’d like to concentrate.  Just… tell me if I’m about to stumble into something.”

            	“Okay, I will.” Emberglow felt an ache in her chest, and stepped away from her.  Terminus moved up alongside her and gave her a hug with one wing, which Emberglow gratefully leaned into.  Rarity never noticed.

            	It didn’t take long for the day’s intense heat to push them into an early afternoon rest.  Heartwing declared that they would be taking a break during the hottest few hours of the day, and they found one of the rare savanna trees to take shelter under while they recovered and napped.  

Emberglow felt restless and unsettled, but she followed Heartwing’s instructions, laying down in the shade with the rest of them.  Rarity never let the book out of her sight.  Emberglow kept hoping she’d put it away and actually speak with them, but she didn’t expect it.

            	“Some things take time,” Terminus whispered to her as they sat together under the tree.  “Don’t give up.  She’s just going to need some space to deal with things.”  He hugged her again.

            	“Twilight, darling?” Rarity called out, and Emberglow glanced over.   She had retrieved the small construct out of her bags, setting it alongside the spellbook.  “The book mentions exercises for unicorns to increase fine dexterity with their telekinesis.  Can you guide me through them?”

            	“Very well,” the construct said.  “Please locate an object roughly the size and weight of an apple.  When you are ready, we will begin.”

            	“Rarity, we’re supposed to be resting, not training,” Heartwing muttered, but Rarity ignored him.  Her cerulean aura found a small rock and it began to lift, only to suddenly jerk into the air so quickly it fired up over them in a wide arc before disappearing into the tall grasses.

            	Undaunted, she selected another.  This one wouldn’t even lift until her third try.  Finally it floated, wiggling about unsteadily in the air in front of Rarity.  Heartwing gave an exasperated sigh.

            	“I’m ready, Twilight dear.  What’s next?”

            	Emberglow tried to tune her out.  Instead, she looked for something to distract herself with, reaching for her own saddlebags and pulling out the journal that connected her with Bubblegum.  She flipped through the pages until she reached the final entry, a rather cartoonishly rendered (but quite adorable) drawing of Emberspark.

            	She pulled a quill out of her bag and stared hard at the blank, empty spot on the page that sat after the drawing.  She pressed the quill to the page, and then froze.  What was she going to ask?  Her friendship with Bubblegum was short and fragile.  Did she really trust the volatile mare to give her any realistic or helpful advice?

            	With a snort, she shook her head and began to write.  Friendship was about trust, after all.

            	Bubblegum?  I need some relationship advice.

            	She hated herself for her wording the second the quill nub left the page.  Of course Bubblegum was going to tease her for this.  Or misconstrue things.  Or something else ridiculous.  In fact, it was only a few moments of silence before the book vibrated.

            	What kind of advice?  And what kind of relationship?  Are you talking sex advice?  Because I understand.  Let me know what your troubles are, and Auntie Bubblegum can fill you in about all the dirty details.  You need positions?  Techniques?

            	Emberglow was flushed and hot while she read, on top of the weather, but there was something rather sweet about Bubblegum’s eager willingness to help, even if she’d misconstrued the question.

            	Not that, Emberglow wrote back.  I do want to ask a little about flirting, though.

            	FLIRTING!  The word came almost instantly and was followed by three successive silly smiley faces.  Ask away.

            	But Emberglow didn’t exactly know where to go from there.  She wanted things to go back the way they were, before Nyuma Ya Joka.  But suddenly the question was too big to ask.

            	You still there, Emberglow?  Because if you chickened out, I’m going to start drawing terrible things to torment you.  Like since you’re into mares, maybe I could draw stallion bits?  You have four seconds to comply before I…

            	DON’T DRAW WEIRD STUFF! Emberglow hastily scrawled across the page.  I’m just thinking about how to word my question, okay?

            	The journal went silent, and Emberglow kept staring at it warily for a bit, waiting for the dreaded graffiti to emerge.  But when Bubblegum seemed to be waiting patiently, Emberglow finally began to write. 

            	I was flirting with Rarity.  Things were going really well.  We went on a date.  But then something happened.  It wasn’t me, it was Heartwing.  And it wasn’t even anything we could prevent.  But now she won’t really talk to anypony.  She’s withdrawn, basically hiding within herself.  I want to go back to where we were, when things were going well.  Do you have any advice?

            	She felt guilty for writing it all out.  Maybe it wasn’t any of Bubblegum’s business.  She did her best to try to keep things vague, but it still felt a bit as if another pony’s dirty laundry was on display, because of her.

            	Woah, that sounds heavy.  Maybe you can’t share all the details with me, and that’s okay, Bubblegum wrote back.  I’ll do my best to help, but you have to promise me that you won’t feel guilty, okay?

            	Emberglow read the last sentence a few times, wondering what she meant.  I promise.

            	Good.  So when me and my husbands fled Port Luminescence, Windy was pretty closed off.  He was pissed because, well, we’d screwed up.  Galileo and I had messed up big time by bucking where you could catch us.  It was our fault, we should have been more careful.  NOW DON’T YOU DARE START BEATING YOURSELF UP ABOUT THAT, OKAY!?  You’re not allowed, and besides, everything’s so much better now.  We live in a world where we can be with Spark.  All three of us, his mommy and his two daddies. 

            	Anyways, when we fled, we went to our hideout.  Windy was always the planner.  He had a safe spot hidden away, if anything ever went totally teats up.  But he was furious.  So for a while, he was just like how you described Rarity acting.

            	Now maybe it’s different, because Rarity’s not mad at you.  But Galileo and I didn’t give up.  We kept trying to get him to talk to us.  We also put him in the middle of a sexy sandwich between the two of us, but somehow I don’t think that’ll help you with Rarity.  Unless it will; I won’t judge.  And if you think it will, I’m happy to do my best to tell you all about positions and techniques, though my expertise in that category may not be as helpful.  You know, without the right attachable toys.  Speaking of which, you didn’t pick up any when you were still in Angel’s Rest, did you?  Because if you didn’t, it’s a shame.

            	Emberglow didn’t know whether she wanted to boil from the heat of her own embarrassment or ask for more details.

            	I don’t know what else to say besides keep communicating.  Find a way to keep talking to her.  About anything. I know you really like this mare.  It’s evident you’re smitten whenever you look her way.  I think you have a chance with her, because she has this look on her face when she looks at you too.  Like she’s considering.  Don’t give up.

            	Let me know how it goes.

            	The wall of text was finished off with a crude drawing of Bubblegum herself, with a wide smile and her forehooves waving about happily.  Emberglow had to laugh out loud at the almost foal-like drawing.  But as she laughed, the journal trembled again and one final sentence appeared.

            	P. S. You should have a chat with your dream therapist about all this.  She’s probably smarter than I am (okay, that’s a low bar to set).

            	That was a great idea.  The problem was, she hadn’t been in contact with Topaz since they’d landed in Jubilation.  Something about the distance involved; Topaz had warned her this might happen.  Still, there was no point letting Bubblegum worry.  She penned a quick note of gratitude for her friend and put the book away.  

Maybe it would be helpful to imagine a conversation with Topaz.  What would her therapist say about all this? Or maybe she would get lucky tonight, and Topaz would be close enough to contact.

            	“Break’s over, ponies.  Let’s get moving.”  Heartwing’s call broke her out of her thoughts.
> Chapter 44, Part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Continuation of a Radio Free Equestria broadcast, taken 1113 AF.   Listening to, recording, or possession of so-called ‘pirate radio’ broadcasts are to be considered an act of heresy and will be punished accordingly.

CW: [Static] think it’s working now.  Can you [static].  Huh.  Okay maybe now.

FM: Is everything okay?

CW: I think so.  Now, you were telling us all about your journey from faithful mouthpiece to questioning.

FM: The questioning is pretty instant.  AM and I both spend enough time with the censors to get an idea of what’s really going on, even though we don’t see the whole picture.  There’s a lot you can guess, though, from what gets left out.

CW: So what can you tell us about your last day broadcasting?

FM: Well, like I said, we both got sent different copies.  AM’s had the ‘official’ story, the one the Mystics are pushing now.  Mine… mine was different.

CW: How?

FM: Well, afterwards, I realized that I might have gotten caught up in the infighting that was going on between the various High Inquisitors maneuvering about for leadership of the Mystics.  Somepony was trying to sow doubt about the ‘official narrative’ and had their minions slip in a different narrative.  It said that the leadership was still undecided, and that Steadfast Word was going to be removed from consideration because of some improprieties up at the griffon front?

CW: You’ve heard the rumors from that incident, right?

FM: Oh, sure.  And they’re even crazier than any sort of story about infighting among the inquisitors.  I mean, a real life Saint, walking about, raiding a border camp?  It’s almost [static]

CW: Huh.  I thought we fixed that.  What if [static]

FM: Are you sure that [static]

CW: No.  No, that’s not technical diffi…[static]… being raided!  Run!

FM: You said it was…

CW: RUN!  Get out!  We’re being raided!

[Sounds of crashing, muffled grunts]

CW: My dear listeners, it seems like some lucky Mystics have found a way to triangulate my location.  This may be the last time you hear from dear old Cutting Wave.  Fiery has fled the building, and I wish him luck.  I’d say pray for me, but ha ha ha.  Now, maybe…

[Loud slamming sound.  Inaudible shouts]

CW: [shouting into the microphone] Freedom of the press is an essential right for all citizens!  The truth cannot be killed, it cannot be silenced, and it cannot be…

[Loud thud, then static]

???, 1113 AF

          	Emberglow’s room at the Ivy Seminary looked like it had the night her dress had been destroyed.  Bits and pieces of torn, soiled cloth still littered the room. 

            	Mercy Song was standing in the room, watching her.  Emberglow’s mother, Needle Point, stood next to her.  Both of them gazed at her, their eyes expectant.

            	“It’s time,” Mercy said.  “Time to go.”

            	“What?”  The words came unbidden from Emberglow’s mouth.

            	“Time for graduation.  For swearing your oaths.  You have your assignment already.”

            	“Assignment?”

            	“We’ll miss you,” her mother said.  “But we’re proud you’re doing your part to protect the Diarchy.  To keep us all safe, and to destroy the heretics.”

This is wrong.

            	Emberglow wanted to protest.  To argue and scream and rant, but no sound came out.  She felt sick, horrified at the prospect of having to hide her lack of faith from her friend, from her mother.  She opened her mouth impotently; it was like she was an observer in her own…

Her own…

Her…

            	Her thoughts caught up with her suddenly.  She wasn’t in the Ivy Seminary.  She hadn’t been in years.  She wasn’t going back, ever. 

            	And this was a dream.

            	Above her, a bell pealed.  She glanced up in time to see the ceiling of her old dorm room open wide to the blue sky above, peeling back like the covers of the bed.  Something was falling out of the sky.  A pony.

            	Emberglow’s old dorm, Mercy Song, and even her mother faded as Emberglow watched the descending figure.  It was Topaz, and she looked worried.

            	“Emberglow!”  She sounded urgent.  “Emberglow, this is a dream!  I need you to snap out—”

            	“Topaz!” Emberglow began, blinking.  “I’m fine, I’m fine!”  It felt oddly different than the usual; always before Topaz had needed to pull her out of a dream.  She smiled.  “Looks like our sessions are paying off.”

            	“Oh.  Um.  Well.  That saves time.”  Topaz’ smile was strained.  “I need your help, then.  Can you come with me?”  She held out her hoof.  

Emberglow touched it, and everything… twisted.  Reality warped around her in a disorienting shift.  Emberglow felt like her brain and stomach were being crammed through a funnel.

Colors and sounds and smells all spun and squeezed in on her brain.  It didn’t hurt, but it was quite uncomfortable.  Emberglow heard a sound, taking a moment to realize it was her own alarmed shout.  A moment later, though, she felt squeezed and spat out, suddenly standing in a very strange hallway.

            	On either side of her were doors.  Dozens and dozens of doors, each one unique.  There were wooden doors, metal doors, canvas tent flaps, even doors made of more odd materials like woven reeds and broken scraps of blades.  Some looked old and decrepit, others appeared brand new.  Some had numbers or signs.  The weirdest thing was, none of the doors were attached to a wall.  Each one floated in the nothingness that surrounded the hallways and the empty sky above.

            	‘’Emberglow, you made it!”

            	Lofty’s voice was the last one she’d expected to hear.  She spun to see her best friend behind her, standing in the odd hallway.  She lunged at him, wrapping him in a hug with both hooves and wings.  “Lofty!  Is this… are you…”

            	“Really…oof… really here, Emberglow,” he laughed.  “There are benefits to having a marefriend who can link dreams. And I think you’re cracking my ribs.”

            	“Sorry!” Emberglow jerked back.  “But…” She turned her head and looked at Topaz.  “I didn’t know you could join two ponies’ dreams like this.”

            	“Me neither,” Topaz admitted, though she didn’t look as excited about her accomplishment as Emberglow would have  expected.  “I think it has something to do with that.”  Topaz pointed at Emberglow’s chest.  She glanced down; the torc bearing the Element of Harmony shone on her neck.

            	“My… element?” she asked.

            	“All of our Elements,” Lofty said.  “We’re bonded by them.  Topaz thinks that will make it easier for her to connect us all in dreams.”

            	“That’s why we’re here,” Topaz said.  “You know how I’ve helped you with your nightmares?  There’s somepony else who’s suffering, and I need your help.”

            	“Who?” Emberglow asked.

            	“Your friend Heartwing.  But I think we should find his coltfriend first.  Only… I haven’t met Terminus, so I need your help with that, too.”

“Me?  How can I help?” Emberglow’s eyes darted around the dreamscape, flitting over the myriad collection of doors. None of it made sense to her.

“The elements may connect us all, but that only goes so far.  I could find his dreams on my own, like I did for you, but it will be so much easier if you helped.” Topaz’ cheerful grin was somehow calming.

            	Emberglow swallowed, burying her nervousness.  “What can I do?”

            	“Focus on memories of your friend.  If I’m right, it will help his door form right next to us, and we can ask for his help, too.”

            	“Wait…” Emberglow was confused.  “If you needed my help to find Terminus’ dream, how did you know Heartwing was having a nightmare?”

            	 Topaz pointed up towards the glittering sky up above.  A full silvery moon floated, lighting the whole scene.  

Emberglow gasped. “The Princess?”

“She guides me when she can.”  Topaz made a face.  “I wish…” she huffed, and shook her head.  “Nevermind.  We need to focus on helping Heartwing.”

            	“Okay.  So I think of memories of Terminus?”  It wasn’t hard.  She’d spent the last few weeks in close company with him.  She knew his voice, his face, his mannerisms.  She thought of the way he flirted with Heartwing, the sad look in his eyes whenever Heartwing was down on himself.  She thought of the way he spoke when she was nearing a panic attack, the calming cadence of his voice.

            	“That might be it,” Topaz said, and Emberglow looked up.  In front of her was a door.  It was a solid construction of velvet and ebony, with a battered brass handle.  “You go first, Emberglow.  It might be less jarring because he’ll know you.  I hope he’s a lucid dreamer.”

            	“What if he’s not?”

            	“Then we might have to help Heartwing without his assistance.”  Topaz hesitated.  “Um, there’s one more thing.  Dreams are private, and we don’t always have control over what we’re dreaming.  So whatever you see, please don’t hold it against your friend.”

            	“I’ll respect his privacy,” Emberglow promised. 

            	Emberglow reached out and nodded, taking the handle in one hoof.  She pulled it open.

            	Beyond was a familiar scene: Terminus’ living room from Angel’s Rest.  Emberglow stepped in cautiously, looking around.  She wasn’t sure what to expect; it was a dream, after all.  But there were sounds from the kitchen, so she trotted that way.

            	Terminus was hard at work in the kitchen, wearing the apron he favored when he was cooking. The stove was on fire, but Terminus didn’t seem to care; in fact, he was tossing a sauté pan full of blazing mushrooms on the stove.

            	“T-terminus?  You know your dinner’s on fire, right?” Emberglow asked.  Terminus glanced up at her. 

            	“Emberglow, you’re home?  Great, give me a hoof.  Heartwing will be home soon, and I want this dinner to be special.”

            	“Special?” Emberglow was curious where the dream was going, but she had a mission.  “No, Terminus.  This is a dream.  You have to wake up and…” She sounded silly.  She didn’t want him to wake up.  “Uh, I’m not sure how to say it.”

            	“Ring a bell!” Topaz called from somewhere behind her.  Terminus didn’t seem to notice the extra voice, but instead watched Emberglow expectantly.

            	“Sure, I’ll help,” Emberglow said with uncertainty as she looked around for a bell.  “What can I do?”

            	“Check on the flan in the fridge, would you?  I want to see if it’s set up.”

            	Emberglow opened the fridge, which appeared to be full of hundreds of small glass ramekins full of flan.  She jiggled one; it was well set up.  When she set it back down, it clinked against the others, letting out a slight ring.  It gave Emberglow an idea.

            	“It’s setting up fine, Terminus.  Where can I find a pot and a metal spoon?”

            	“Pots are to the right of the stove, spoons are in the drawer above them.”  Terminus was absorbed in stirring his flaming creation.  Emberglow opened the cupboard and pulled out a large pan and a metal spoon, before swiftly striking them against each other.  It let out a loud peal that echoed off the kitchen walls, and Terminus’ eyes went wide as he froze.

            	“A bell?  Is this…”

            	“A dream,” Emberglow said.  Terminus’ eyes focused on her.  “And I’m here for real.  Topaz’ magic.  But we need to hurry, there’s no time to explain.”

            	He nodded in confusion, his eyes following her closely.

            	“Topaz?  He’s… aware.”  Emberglow felt a little silly calling out.

            	Suddenly Topaz materialized beside her, and Terminus jerked back, his wings flared with panic.  “Sorry, Terminus.  Hi.  I’m Topaz Glitter, and we need your help.”

            	“How is this possible?”

            	“Heartwing is having a nightmare.” Topaz ignored his question and pressed forward.  “A bad one.  I think it could do serious harm to his mental health, so I want all of us, especially you, to help him with it.  We can talk about other stuff later, but for now, we should hurry.”

            	“Lead the…” Terminus began, but there was another twisting, wrenching sensation, and they were all suddenly back at the hallway of doors again.  Terminus blinked in confusion a few times.  “…way.  Where are we?”

            	“This is where I go to find dreams.  Every door is a dream, every one a different pony,” Topaz explained. “Terminus and Emberglow, both of you think of Heartwing, and we’ll summon his door.”

            	It was the same as before.  Emberglow focused on Heartwing, on the silly way his eyebrows arched when he thought he was being clever, the sweet, faraway look his eyes got when he smiled at Terminus.

            	Heartwing’s door was obvious the second Emberglow laid eyes on it.  It was a hodgepodge of a thousand different pieces of wood, metal, and resin, each one a different color, each one glued, stapled, nailed, taped, or tied to the ones next to it.

            	Between the cracks and underneath the bottom, though, oozed thick, oily black smoke.  It smelled foul and acrid.

            	“That’s how you know somepony’s having a nightmare,” Topaz noted.

            	“That’s… how mine looked?” Emberglow asked. 

Topaz nodded grimly.  “It’s not always this bad.  But that first night, when we met?  Yeah.”

“What are we waiting for?” Terminus stepped forward with urgency.  He grabbed the door, but it was jammed shut.  With a grunt, he yanked as hard as he could.  The Element of Kindness glowed in the torc around his neck, and the door flew open, pouring smoke into the hallway.

“Anything I should know?” Terminus pressed.  His wings were twitching, hooves dancing a beat against the floor.

“We’ll be with you.  Try to wake him up.  Be there for him, remind him of your love and admiration.  I don’t think the sound of a bell will work so easily this time, but I’ll be ringing one anyways.  It’s always so much harder to pull a pony out of a nightmare than a normal dream.”  Topaz sighed.  “Be careful. It’s a dream, so nothing can harm you.  But pain is still pain.”

“Got it,” Terminus said, and he crouched his legs then leapt headfirst into the inky nightmare.  Emberglow charged in right behind him, and the darkness swallowed her.

At first, everything was pitch black.  And then it was searing; there was a light so white that Emberglow’s good eye burned with agony.  She tried to clench it shut, but it didn’t help; a blindingly bright sun, hanging low over her head, blazed with such intensity it felt like it was burning through her head.

As urgently as she could, Emberglow forced her eyes open a sliver.  Heartwing and Terminus needed her.  

The dream she saw, though, made her want to weep.

Heartwing didn’t look like himself.  He was shorn, shaved of all his fur and beard, chained naked on a flat black stone by a collar around his neck.  He writhed and squirmed, gasping and wheezing in agony, and babbling something between his whimpers of pain.  Emberglow could see the blistering burns where his flesh was held against the searingly hot stone.

Looming above the stone was a massive figure: a pony of immense stature, with purple fur and a darker purple mane.  Her wings were furled, and her horned head was bowed low, as if with shame or sorrow.  It took Emberglow a moment to recognize Princess Twilight.

“What… is he saying?” Terminus’ voice came from right beside her.  Emberglow looked at him; his lips were pursed tight in a horrified expression.

“Let’s get closer,” Emberglow offered, and Terminus wasted no time.  The two of them swooped down, beating their wings to hover above him.  They both had the same idea: using their own bodies to block some of the punishing, blazing sunlight that beat down on them all.

“Heartwing!  I’m here!  It’s me, Terminus!”  he shouted, moving about to try and provide some small shade.  Emberglow did the same, but no matter where they hovered, the sun continued to blaze down on the poor pony.  “Please!  This is a nightmare!”

At that moment, a bell rang out, and for an instant Heartwing’s reddened eyes seemed to almost clear for a moment, but then he screamed in pain again, before going back to muttering.  Finally they could hear what he was saying, muttering, “…sorry, I’m so sorry,” over and over.

“Sir Heartwing!” Emberglow called.  “This isn’t helping you!”  She pointed with her wing towards the massive figure of Princess Twilight.  “She forgave you!  Didn’t you hear the message?”  A bell rang out again, and once again there was no change from Heartwing.  He let out a pitiful wail of agony that rent Emberglow’s heart.

“What are we supposed to do?” Emberglow’s eye darted about desperately, looking for Topaz.  “He’s hurting!”

“You have to reach him!” Topaz called back over the sound of the bell.  “Reach him with your words, with  your love!  Break him out of the pain and grief.  Keep trying!”

“It’s not working!  Break him out of the pain?”  Emberglow gulped.  “And… the dream won’t hurt me, right?”

“Well no, but… Emberglow!  What are you doing?”

“I’ll pull him off the stone.” She hovered lower.  The heat radiating from the stone platform grew worse and worse, nearly unbearable.  It felt like her hooves and underside were on fire.  Still she persevered, reaching until she took hold of the collar around his neck.

Scorching agony beyond anything she’d felt before burned into her hooves.  Emberglow screamed, jerking her hooves away.  The smell of burning fur and melting flesh filled her nostrils, and she looked, horrified, at the mass of blisters on her hooves.

For a second, the entire dream became hazy.  Agony poured through Emberglow’s hooves, and she felt like she was about to pass out.  Sounds and sights became distant, except for the pain.

“Hold on to it, Emberglow!” she heard Topaz’ voice call out.  “We still need you!”  It sounded like she was shouting from a mile away.  Her voice was followed by the sound of a bell.  Emberglow focused on that, trying to ignore the pain in her hooves.  “It’s a dream, Emberglow.”

Emberglow looked back at the burning figure below her.  She couldn’t imagine how much Heartwing could be hurting.  If she couldn’t stand it for one second, what sort of pain was he feeling?

“Heartwing, I’m begging you!” Terminus was hovering as closely as he could without touching the stone or the chain.  “She’s forgiven you.  You heard the message.  You don’t have to do this any longer!”  His eyes met Emberglow’s.  They were wet with tears.  “This is a dream, right?  So nothing here can really hurt me?”  His gaze darted to her burned, blistered hooves, then back to Heartwing’s tortured figure.

“Terminus…” Emberglow breathed.  She could see his chest heaving as he drew in short, panicky breaths, his eyes now fixed on Heartwing.  Without warning, he dove, wrapping his forehooves around the base of the chain, landing on the stone.  A gut-wrenching shriek of agony ripped from his lungs, his entire face twisted with pain, but he didn’t let go.

“H-Heartwing, t-this is a n-n-nightmare!” Terminus grunted, yanking as hard as he could at the chain.  Emberglow watched in horror as his flesh boiled and blistered, his fur smoking and shriveling from the heat.  “I n-need you to…” He trailed off wordlessly with another pained wail.

“It’s a mental game, Terminus.”  Lofty’s voice was unexpected, as was another ring of the bell.  “You’re stronger than the illusion.”  Even though they’d never met, it was nice to hear her oldest friend chiming in.  A bell rang again, and Emberglow glanced towards the noise.  Lofty and Topaz were standing on a cloud that hadn’t been there before.  They were each holding a small bell.  “Mind over matter, Knight.”

Terminus’ eyes forced open, and he nodded shakily up at Lofty.  He shifted his hind hooves and pulled harder.  Emberglow could see the feathers on his wings beginning to curl and smoke with the heat.  She swallowed hard, steeled herself, and landed next to him.

Even being ready for the pain didn’t help.  Her hooves were on fire, and it took every bit of willpower she could muster to not jerk back into the air.  She wrapped her hooves around Terminus, who somehow managed to shoot her a grateful look.  Together, they pulled as hard as they could.

“Heartwing!  Heartwing, please!” Terminus begged as they pulled with all their might.  The bells rang again.

There was a tremble of motion from up above them.  The gigantic image of Princess Twilight shifted, her head and horn raising.  Finally, Emberglow could see the source of the light; it wasn’t the sun, it was a glowing orb of fire and fury on the tip of Twilight’s horn.  She did her best to spread her wings as wide as she could, to shield Heartwing and Terminus from its fury.  It hurt to even move.

“This is more than just a nightmare.”  Topaz’ terrified voice cut through the torrent of pain that roared through Emberglow’s body.  “This is… this is something different!”

“What are you…”

“Nightmares are a way of life for him!  He’s lived with his guilt so long, he just… lives with the torture rather than letting himself heal!”

“That’s what he needs us for, then,” Terminus groaned.  

“He doesn’t realize it’s a dream, or that we’re here to help, not just figments of his subconscious mind.  We have to...”  She rang the bell again.  “Heartwing! I am here on behalf of the mistress of dreams, Luna herself!  You know her and trust her.  You can trust my voice.”

Emberglow felt like she was losing consciousness. She was browning out, her vision fuzzing at the edges.  She tried to focus harder, to pull against Terminus and the chain.  Every second counted.  Every…

“Heartwing.”  Topaz’ voice came from right next to Emberglow’s ear.  She jerked in surprise.  “This is a dream.  Your dream.  But you’re hurting Terminus.  You’re hurting Emberglow.  Please.”

            	“W-who are you…?” Heartwing’s voice was hoarse from his screaming, but his eyes were blinking.  They suddenly focused on Terminus and Emberglow, then shot over to Topaz.  “Who…”

            	“It’s time to end this nightmare, Sir Heartwing.” Topaz’ fur was smoking from where she was standing on the black slab, and tears of pain leaked from the corners of her eyes.  Emberglow could barely hold onto the dream herself, her vision growing hazy, but Topaz stood there, calm and collected, even though her voice was strained with pain.  “End your nightmare so we can talk.”

            	It was like a blink.  One second they were there, frying on the ominous slab, the next they were standing in a black void.  Emberglow and Terminus both jerked into the air, the momentum from their efforts throwing them high before they could stop themselves.  They looked at each other, stunned, before both frantically running their hooves over the perfectly healthy fur, feathers, and flesh that had been burning only seconds before.

            	“How…” Terminus breathed, but then sped down to Heartwing, scooping him up in a tight embrace.  “Sir, you scared me.  How could you let something like that happen to you?”

            	“How could I?” Heartwing’s confused eyes darted about the black space, taking in each of the ponies.  “This is a dream!  You were hurting.  I could hear you, and Emberglow.  Your hooves!  Are...?”  He did his best to inspect his coltfriend’s hooves, even while Terminus held him tight.  “You’re okay!”

“It was merely a nightmare, sir.  Topaz here helped us snap you out of it.  We’re just fine.”

Heartwing was still blinking, his face marred with confusion.  Emberglow understood the feeling; it took a few moments for her to catch up with reality, sometimes, when coming out of her own nightmares.

            	“I’m sorry to interrupt your dreaming, Sir Heartwing.”  Topaz moved into his line of sight.  “I didn’t think you’d mind.  When I saw you having a nightmare so terrible, I assumed it wasn’t normal.  I regret that I had to invade your privacy, but I’ve been told that protecting ponies from their nightmares is part of my job.”  She bowed her head.  “I couldn’t have done it without help, tonight.”

            	“Who are you?” Heartwing said, blinking.  “I don’t know you.  Why am I— ?”  His eyes widened with a sharp intake of breath.  “Dreamwalker.  You brought them...” He gaped at Topaz in horror.  “You brought them all here?  With your powers?  You shouldn’t…”

The darkness blazed to life again with furious fire, and everypony clenched their eyes shut.

“Oh, Celestia, you brought them here…” Heartwing’s voice trailed off in dismay.   Emberglow cracked her eye open to squint at him; their eyes met for a moment, and Heartwing swallowed hard.  “You don’t know what you’ve done.”

“I don’t think…”

Emberglow never got to hear what Topaz didn’t think.  The form of a pony, indistinct and blazing with solar fury, stood before them.  It stepped towards them with slow intent, and Emberglow felt the memory of the dream’s burn in its presence.

“I… I’ve heard about this!” Topaz’ voice trembled with uncertainty.  “Dream magic!  Tantabus!  But Heartwing isn’t a dreamwalker, he shouldn’t be able to…”

“What is it?” Emberglow asked.

“Guilt,” Heartwing moaned.  “Mine.  For what I’ve done.  For what I didn’t do.  I wasn’t strong enough to make a Tantabus, like Luna.  Not a real one, at least.  A poor imitation.  But it’s served the same purpose.”

The figure stepped closer, and the heat began to burn them all.

“Flee, now.  All of you.  Unless you want this thing infecting your dreams, too.”

“Never.”  Terminus’ voice was firm, and even in the blackness they all stood on, his hooves echoed with a loud stomp as he stepped in front of his love.  “I will not abandon you to this.”

“M-me neither.” Emberglow stood alongside him.

“You must tell us how to fight it, sir,” Lofty added.  “Because it looks like we’re staying.”

“You’re all fools,” Heartwing whispered.  “You can’t beat this.  Go, get out of here.  That’s an order!”

“If it were me, would you flee?” Terminus asked softly.  

“I’m begging you, Terminus,” Heartwing breathed.  The creature, the Tantabus, moved one step closer, and its horn blazed to life.  Tendrils of flame reached out to four of them; to Lofty, Topaz, Terminus, and Emberglow.  Agony blazed through Emberglow’s chest, and the blackness was filled with their screams of pain.

“No!” Heartwing surged to his hooves, dashing in front of them all.  “No, it’s me you want!”  His horn blazed, and a shield appeared around the five of them.  Bolts of fire skittered around the outside of the barrier, and Heartwing grunted.  “All of you, get…”

“We’re not going, Sir Heartwing,” Topaz said firmly, and Heartwing scowled at her.  “If you suffer, we suffer.”  Emberglow didn’t quite understand what was happening, but she nodded along with Terminus and Lofty.  “I-if you created this thing, you know what it will take to contain it.”

“I can’t.”  Tongues of flame licked at the shield, and it pressed inward, shoving the ponies together under its curve.  

“Let go, Heartwing.  Or, if you can’t do that, let us share your pain.”

“But…”

“Please, sir!” Terminus said.  “Like Topaz said.  If you suffer, we suffer.”

“A burden shared is a burden made light,” Emberglow quoted, and Heartwing turned a sardonic eye on her.

“Quoting the Book at me, Knight?” He let out a laugh.  “You’re all fools, you know.” He turned his gaze on Topaz.  “Helping a complete stranger.”

“It’s my job,” Topaz said.  “Now.  It’s going to hurt, but I’m going to need you to drop the shield, Sir Heartwing.”

“What?” Heartwing gaped at her.

“Please trust me.  And everypony?  This is going to hurt.  But this is a dream.  I know what I’m d-doing.”  The stammer at the end didn’t exactly fill Emberglow with confidence.  

“You do?” Heartwing sneered.

“Sure.  Luna and talked about this.  Once.  Briefly.”  She let out a manic sounding little laugh.  “But does anypony else have any expertise here?”

“I do,” Heartwing muttered.  “And if all of you just leave…”

Heartwing was drowned out in a chorus of vehement protest.

“When Heartwing drops the shield, hold on to each other!” Topaz shouted.  The sounds of the flames, the roar of heat against the shield, grew louder.  “It’s going to try to separate us, to drown us in our own nightmares!  But we are together, and we share our pain as one!  That’s how we’ll get control of this thing, and help Heartwing!”

This time she sounded confident, at least, and Emberglow tried to hold on to that as the shield flickered and burst into a billion motes of light.  The agony returned in a breath, a searing agony of flames.  It rushed over her fur, over her wings and feathers, into her eyes and down her throat.  She was screaming.

You want to try to defeat Heartwing’s guilt?  Pathetic.  You can’t even banish your own.

Night Star’s face swam before her.  His eyes were dead and blank, but his face twisted in a sneer of contempt.

Can anypony ever really be free of the chains they’ve bound themselves in?

This time it was Gadget, her own dead eyes leaking tears and blood.

You hypocrite.  You can’t help him, you can’t even help yourself.

Something squeezed her hoof.  Through the faces and the fire and the blood, Emberglow caught sight of Topaz.  She was smiling, even though tears leaked from her eyes.  She was saying something, but Emberglow couldn’t hear her over the roar of the flames and the screams of the voices of her failures.  So Topaz nodded her head down, to the pony they surrounded, the pony they were all wrapped around.

Heartwing.

“I’m not here for you,” Emberglow grunted, banishing the dead voices and the dead faces.  There would be time to deal with them later.  “I’m here for him.”

The others came into focus as the sound of her voices faded.  Topaz was clutching tightly to Emberglow’s hoof on one side, Lofty’s on the other.  Lofty was dry-retching, with unfocused eyes.  Terminus, on Emberglow’s other side, was wrapped tightly against Heartwing, muttering something over and over with his eyes closed.

“What now?” Emberglow shouted at Topaz.

Topaz shook her head.  “It’s not about what we do, it’s about what he does!” She pointed at Heartwing.  “Once he knows we’re here to support him, and share his burden, he’ll let us in.  If he doesn’t, we’ll all just keep suffering together.”

“You’re… blackmailing me?” Heartwing gasped underneath them, as he let out a raspy laugh.  “Devious. I’m impressed.  You know it won’t work entirely, right?”

“It will work enough for now.” 

“If you say so.”  Huddled in a pile of hugs, whimpering and gasping in pain, he stood.  Even distracted, Emberglow thought she could see a weary sort of strength in his stance.  He reached out, seemingly unfazed by the way the fur on his hoof crackled and burned.  The blazing form reached out at the same time, and the blackness flashed white.  Emberglow flinched, with each pony clutching more tightly against Heartwing.

Emberglow clenched her eyes shut.  She focused on what she could feel.  Terminus’ hoof in hers.  Topaz’ hoof on the other side.  The press of pony bodies against hers.  Together.  

The light faded, taking with it the heat and the burning.  Emberglow blinked her eyes open, slowly stepping away from the group embrace, giving some space to Terminus and Heartwing.  Terminus had a wing wrapped tightly around his lover.  The blackness around them felt cool and calming.  Emberglow was certain she’d never look at the sun the same way again.

“It’s not gone, is it?” Topaz whispered.

“Just contained.  I won’t allow Terminus and Emberglow to suffer for my guilt.”

Silence followed the response, as the ponies stared at each other.  Emberglow cleared her throat.

“Um.  Can somepony explain just what happened there?”

“The tantabus is a magical construct,” Topaz began, after glancing at Heartwing.  When he didn’t speak, she continued.  “A powerful piece of magic, created by a pony to punish themselves with horrific nightmares for their sins.”

“I wasn’t able to create one as impressive as the one your mentor made for herself,” Heartwing said, ignoring the look of horror on Terminus’ face.  “It’s just a little thing compared to the true monster Luna summoned.”

“Don’t try to change the subject!” Terminus cried.  “You did this to yourself?  How long has this been going on?”

“Longer than you’ve been alive, colt.”

Terminus looked as if he was about to shove Heartwing away, but to Emberglow’s surprise, he only clutched Heartwing closer.  “This is why.  This is why you drive yourself so hard.  Why you visit the family of every casualty yourself.  Why…”  Terminus sucked in a long breath.  “No.  You’re not doing this on your own any longer.”  He met eyes with Emberglow, who nodded.  He turned to Topaz.  “How do we make it go away for good?  You said it was only contained.”

“It will remain so, with your help,” Topaz said.  “As long as Heartwing remembers that we share his grief and guilt, rather than hiding from us and keeping it to himself.”

“I’ll make sure he does.” Terminus glared at Heartwing.

“And I get no say in this?” Heartwing groused.

“Not if you don’t want us all to go through that again,” Topaz said.  “I’ll be watching.  If the tantabus comes back, I will be coming back, with your friends in tow.”

“There’s the blackmail again.” Heartwing didn’t sound too angry; he sounded impressed.  “Who are you?”

            	“My name is Topaz Glitter.”  She motioned to Lofty. “This is Lofty Tale.”  She pointed to her chest, where the Element of Laughter proudly hung.  “We’re the other Elements of Harmony.”  Lofty nodded.

            	Heartwing carefully extracted himself from the embrace he shared with Terminus, though Terminus kept a wing protectively around him.  “Emberglow said you met her in dreams.  Emberglow, is this truly the mare you met?”  At Emberglow’s affirmative nod, Heartwing reached a hoof out to shake Topaz’.  He did the same for Lofty, but Lofty saluted instead.

            	“A pleasure to meet you, Sir.  Knight Lofty Tale, at your service.”  The dream shimmered, and Lofty was suddenly wearing the orange armor of a Knight Vigilant, complete with the yellow bands of the Discordant painted onto the side.

            	“I don’t recognize you.”  Heartwing eyed Lofty, who nodded.

            	“Yes, sir.  I was told that meeting you was the very last formality.  Knight Quiet Sleep said all I needed was a declaration of intent.”

            	“She’s right,” Heartwing said, finally returning the salute.  Emberglow watched Heartwing’s odd eyes carefully.  His expression was sharp as he studied Lofty.  “You can vouch for this one, Emberglow?”

            	“He was my best friend at the Seminary,” Emberglow said.  “And he harbored me for a month after we separated at Manehattan.  He could have turned me in at any time, and he didn’t.”

            	“Welcome to the Discordant, then, Lofty Tale,” Heartwing said.  “I can’t wait to meet you in pony.”

            	There was something about the formality of this conversation that was really bugging Emberglow.  Just seconds ago Heartwing was torturing himself with a nightmare, and now he was all business?

            	“Sir?  Shouldn’t you be…” She didn’t even know how to finish the sentence.  Topaz shot her a warning look, shaking her head.  Heartwing glanced back at her as well.

            	“That was a very intimate moment we just saw,” Topaz said quietly.  “It’s up to Heartwing if we’re going to speak of it more.  If he’d prefer to ignore it and move on…” Heartwing nodded with a roll of his eyes, but Terminus’ face was fuming.

            	“No.  No, sir.  I’m not going to be quiet about what I just saw.”  Terminus stomped a hoof.  “Maybe you want to keep it private.  But I know where you’re sleeping.  You’re not getting away from this conversation, even if we have to have it in the waking world.  It’s not enough to ignore this.  You need help, if you want to keep that thing from coming back again.  You need to talk to somepony.”

            	There was a silent moment shared between the two stallions, gazing deep into each other’s eyes for a few tense seconds.  Then, without warning, Heartwing leaned forward and pressed his lips against Terminus’.  He then turned to Topaz, without letting go.

            	“Miss Topaz?” he said.  “Emberglow tells me you’re a therapist.  Are you taking new patients?”

            	Terminus gave a pleased whinny, only to blush when all eyes shot to him.  He smiled, though, and squeezed Heartwing tight.

            	“I think I can make room for an Element of Harmony,” Topaz said with a grin.  Heartwing’s brow furrowed with confusion.  “I think… that’s how I was able to contact you all,” she continued.  “It’s how I found Emberglow.  In the dream realm, she was like… a beacon.  And for the last two nights, you have been too, Heartwing.”  She nodded to Terminus.  “I would have reached out to you as well, but something about the distance makes it difficult.  The more of us there were, though, the easier it got.”

            	“So…” Lofty sounded awkward.  “There’s five of us now?  Leaving just the Element of Magic?”

            	Heartwing nodded. “We think it’s close to Jubilation.”

            	“We’ll be joining you soon, then,” Topaz said.  “It’ll be nice to meet in pony.  Meanwhile, though, you should all return to your own dreams.  Dreamwalking isn’t as restful, and I’m sure you’ll all need your sleep.”

“Rarity will be so excited to hear that we’ve made contact with all the Elements,” Emberglow said, but something in Heartwing’s frown made her nervous.  “Won’t she?”
> Chapter 45
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 45


Excerpt from Grey’s Pony Anatomy, 5th edition.  Please note all editions prior to the thirty-ninth include heretical information not approved by the Knights Mystic.

Thaumopenia

Thaumopenia occurs in unicorns and pegasi when their primary magical extremity (or extremities) are completely severed, separating the cornaetheric nerve (in unicorns) or the pteryaetheric nerve cluster (in pegasi) from the rest of the nervous system.  No known cases of thaumopenia have been identified in earth ponies.

Early signs and symptoms of thaumopenia include disorientation, dizziness, nausea, bradycardia, hypotension, dyspnea, and sometimes death, though death in the early stages of thaumopenia is often determined to be a result of other traumatic injury.  If the patient survives, these symptoms usually fade within hours of the original injury.

In child and adolescent ponies, death from thaumopenia usually occurs within two to four weeks of the nerve being severed.  Adult ponies have been observed to survive as much as five to eight weeks.  As death approaches, patients show lethargy, decreasing lucidity, and short-term memory loss.

Motic measurement tests on thaumopenia patients show gradually decreasing motic levels as the condition worsens.  Death occurs as the patient nears zero internal motes. 

No known treatment for thaumopenia exists.  Attempts to re-integrate the severed limbs fails to restore the motic pathways through the patient’s body.  Placing the patient within an aetheric echo chamber, such as the ones used for motic reflection therapy for magically underdeveloped foals, has been shown to increase lifespan in thaumopenia patients by up to two months, though none have survived longer than that. 

 

1113 AF, Zebrican Savannah

Perhaps a dream meeting of the Elements of Harmony was not exactly the solution to Emberglow’s problem that she was looking for, but she did feel rather uplifted.  That was, until she excitedly shared what had happened with Rarity the next morning, only to be met by a tired sort of stare.

“A tantabus, you say?  I imagine it’s no less than he deserved.” Rarity seemed hardly interested  as the two of them packed up their bedrolls for the last leg of their journey.  “Well, you seem to have handled things well.  I’m so glad you got to meet with your friends.”  There was a dismissive sort of emphasis on the word ‘your’ that made Emberglow flinch.  “And your friend, your ‘Lofty Tale’, was it?  You said he had which Element of Harmony?”

            	It was enough that Emberglow paused entirely, stepping back from Rarity, her throat clenching.  “I… I’m so sorry, Rarity.  I didn’t think…”

            	“You didn’t, no,” Rarity whispered, turning away.  Emberglow must have made a whimper or some other noise, though, because Rarity turned back towards her.  “I’m sorry, darling.  I didn’t mean to be so abrasive.  I’m just tense after all the drama over the last few weeks.  It will be nice to settle down, spend some time in my shop, and not think about all this for a while.”

            	“Do you want to talk about it?  Your Element?”

            	“It’s not mine any longer, is it?” Rarity sighed, but she managed a thin, apologetic smile in Emberglow’s direction.  “I’m sorry.  Perhaps I should.  It just seems so strange to have somepony else carrying something that was such a huge part of my life, before.”  She paused for a few moments, levitating camp supplies into her saddlebag while she appeared to think.  “Can you tell me about him?”

            	“Lofty?  He’s been my best friend since the Ivy Seminary,” Emberglow said.  “He was the first to reach out. The place was full of stuck up nobles' foals, and I was one of the few ponies there on a sponsorship.  He had nothing to gain by trying to be friends, but he did it anyways.” 

            	Emberglow considered for a few moments.  What else was there to say?  Rarity probably wasn’t interested in Lofty’s life story.  “For what it’s worth, he’ll make you proud, I think,” she said.  “He always used to talk about noblesse oblige, a noble’s duty to lift those around him.  He gave up his Knighthood, his dream, leaving in disgrace in order to raise his son.  He’s a good pony.”

            	She felt the need for Rarity to accept her friend, to understand, but words just felt so empty and pointless.  But Rarity reached out her hoof with a wan smile and patted Emberglow on the shoulder.  “I’m sure he is, dear.  I’ll be happy to meet him someday.”  There was only a little bitterness left in her voice, so Emberglow did her best to simply nod and try to swallow her worries. 

            	They finished packing up camp, and Emberglow and Rarity fell in behind the two stallions.  After last night’s dream, Terminus was being quite physically affectionate, reaching out to touch Heartwing with a hoof or a wing every few moments, as if he were reassuring himself that Heartwing was still there.  For his part, Heartwing appeared to allow all this with an indulgent smile.

            	Emberglow tried not to let it show just how jealous watching them made her feel.  She’d been so close to… something… with Rarity.  Something good. 

            	The trip to Nyumba Ya Joka had taken a week and a half; they’d been only a few steps ahead of Diarchy patrols for the first bit of the trip, so they’d been a little rushed.  The trip back was slower, more sedate, and Emberglow found herself hating the free time.  Free time meant time to think by herself, and time to watch as Rarity buried herself in hushed conversations with the construct.

            	It came as a relief when the arched gate of Jubilation appeared on the horizon, sitting above the colored sea of tents pitched right outside its mouth.  The four ponies stopped just far enough away to see the patrols of flying pegasi moving about above the city.

            	“Do we just walk in?” Terminus asked, eyeing the flying patrols nervously.  “What’s going on?”

            	“We’re close enough to contact Willow or Justice,” Heartwing said.  They moved behind the thick trunk of a tree so none of the ponies above Jubilation could see the light of his rune gauntlet.  He cast the spell, then furrowed his brow in concentration.  The silence dragged a few seconds.

            	“What?  What’s wrong?” Rarity prodded, sounding worried.  Heartwing shook his head silently.

            	“No response.  Either she’s choosing not to respond, or she’s asleep.  Or unconscious.  I’ll try Justice.”

            	It was the same story.  Heartwing’s look of concentration shifted to a worried frown.  The same thing happened when he tried to contact Chocolate Chip, Justice’s squire.

            	“If one won’t respond, that’s weird.  If both…” Terminus trailed off.

            	“We shouldn’t assume the worst,” Heartwing said.  “But we need to get into that city.  I’ll try those two stallions who opened their house to us.”

            	“You have enough motes?” Emberglow asked.  The long-speaking spell was more complicated to cast the more unfamiliar the target, and required more energy.  Heartwing looked at his gauntlet and grimaced.

            	“Barely.  But we need intelligence before we get into the city.”  He cast the spell a fourth time, and this time his eyes lit up with relief.  The runes glowed in the air, hovering as he held the spell intact.

            	“Bolero, this is Heartwing…” he paused, and his eyes narrowed.  “Really?  Damn.”   He paused again.  “That’s….” He shook his head angrily.  “That’s insane.  Willow and Justice?  What about Chip?”  There was another pause.  “And you don’t have any way of getting in contact with them?  No, no, I don’t want you to go look.  I’ll go look for them.  And I won’t come back to your home.  Thank you for the offer, but you and your husband have put yourself out enough for us, and we won’t put you in danger again.  Lay low, and this will all pass over us.  Thanks, Bolero.”

            	The glow of the spell faded, and Heartwing waved everybody closer.  “I’m sure you all heard part of that.  Here’s the short version.  The Merchant Council of Jubilation has recently passed a resolution banning the presence of ‘unsanctioned foreign military organizations’.  We’ve basically been outlawed in Jubilation.  The guard’s split down the middle, with a good percentage of the Equestrian expatriates siding with us.  Problem is, they’re still under orders to arrest us and charge us with illegal weapons possession on sight.  So even the ones that disagree are still on patrol, watching for us.”

            	“But what happened to Justice, Willow, and Chip?” Emberglow demanded.  “Are they okay?”

            	“They’ve been looking into Diarchy activities.  Bolero wasn’t sure what; Willow doesn’t share everything with him and Iodine.  But they spoke just this morning.  Willow told him the three of them had a lead on the shanty.  Something the Diarchy was looking into themselves.”

            	“And he hasn’t heard from them since?” Emberglow asked.  Her mind was full of images of the eager young foal, her throat tightening with worry.

            	“No.  So we need to find a way to get into Jubilation, without being overseen by the pegasi patrols that are specifically looking for us, and for our friends.”

            	“Are we sure they haven’t been arrested already?” Terminus asked grimly.  Nopony answered.


*   *   *   *   *


            	“Are you entirely sure this is the best idea you could come up with, Heartwing?”

            	“Rarity…”

            	“I mean, of all your hairbrained schemes, this is quite possibly the least dignified, messiest, most…”

            	“Rarity…”

            	“I mean really, Heartwing.  A sewer?  Even for you, this is…”

            	“Rarity!” Heartwing’s yell took them all by surprise.  Emberglow flinched.  “We need to get back into the city; my ponies are in danger.  Every second we waste is a second they could be in peril.  If that means breaking into a sewer and sneaking into the city, that’s what I’m going to do.”

            	Rarity’s jaw snapped shut, a guilty look passing her face.  She opened her mouth to say something, but Heartwing cut her off.

            	“If it helps, I’ll buy you a whole month’s worth of spa treatments after we’re done,” he muttered.  Rarity nodded.

            	The four of them stood outside a barred grate covering a large pipe, wide enough that a pony could crawl awkwardly down its length.  Terminus was casting quick waterproofing spells over their saddlebags, so there would be clean clothing to disguise themselves with once they got inside.  Emberglow, meanwhile, was silently cataloguing all the spells she knew that would help them with the trip.

            	“There’s enhancement spells that will keep the air coming into your lungs clear and breathable,” Emberglow explained to Rarity, as Heartwing struck the lock over the grate with his spear.  “They won’t do anything for the smell, though.”

            	“Lovely,” Rarity sighed.  “Are there any spells that can remove the next half-hour from my memories?”  Emberglow opened her mouth to answer, before she realized Rarity was probably being sarcastic.

            	“Sorry,” she said, trying to sound sympathetic.  It was enough to get at least a small smile from Rarity.  Probably the first real smile she’d seen from the mare in days.  Even that much was enough to make her ache for the time before Nyumba Ya Joka.

            	“If this is the only way, I’ll stop causing a fuss,” Rarity grumbled.

            	Emberglow nodded.  “Thanks.  I’m really worried about them.  Heartwing and Terminus are, too.”  She raised her gauntlet and began casting.  Two small spells for each of them; one to keep the air in their lungs fresh, and a second for water breathing, in case the pipe flooded.  She discreetly chose not to explain to Rarity what the second spell was for, and felt a guilty sense of relief that Rarity didn’t ask.

            	Once all four of them were protected, they crawled into the pipe.  Heartwing went first, unhesitating.  Rarity followed, after one final eye roll towards Terminus and Emberglow.  The two of them looked at each other.

            	“I’ll take up the rear,” Terminus offered.

            	Emberglow shook her head.  “Can I, please?”  She didn’t think it would bother her this much, but the sight of the narrow tunnel brought back some very uncomfortable memories about a downward sloping ceiling in a cave underneath Manehatten.  She couldn’t help the small shiver she gave.  Terminus noticed.

            	“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

            	“No.” Emberglow admitted.  “But I’ll push through.”

            	“Call out if you need help.”

            	“Just… keep talking to me, okay?” Emberglow said.  He smiled and nodded and crouched down to crawl inside the pipe.  She took a deep breath of fresh air and followed him.

            	The smell had been rancid outside the pipe, but inside was compounded.  Her eyes watered at the stench, and she nearly retched.  It was foul.  The scent of an entire city’s waste violated her nostrils with its odor.  Her hooves churned up the slimy liquid at her hooves, making it even worse.  At least it was only a few inches deep.  She held her breath as long as she could, before she was forced to breathe in.  She did her best to breathe through her mouth.

            	Up ahead, she could see two horn lights in the distance, and could hear the sounds of Rarity’s complaints.  The echoes in the tunnel made her impossible to understand, but Emberglow found the sound of her voice just comforting enough to drag herself forward.

            	“You okay, Emberglow?” Terminus said.  He’d cast a light spell; she could see his gauntlet glowing in front of her.  She thought about it, but rejected the idea of casting one herself.  She wanted to see as little about what she was walking through as she possibly could.

            	“I’m fine,” she lied.  Unconsciously she tried to lift herself out of the sludge, but bumped her head against the top of the tunnel.  It was enough to make her freeze.

            	“You stopped,” Terminus called back.  She could barely see his light from the other side of his body in the narrow tunnel, but enough to realize he’d stopped as well.  She made herself move again.

            	“Yeah.  I’m not usually claustrophobic,” she said.  “Just some difficult memories, you know?”

            	“Of the cave you and Heartwing were in where you found Rarity?” Terminus guessed.

            	Emberglow nodded, then cringed when she remembered he wouldn’t be able to see the gesture.  “Yes, that cave.  There were some narrow spots.”

            	“You don’t have to talk about it,” Terminus said.  “We could talk about something else.”

            	“Distraction, right?” Emberglow tried to sound light.  “Honestly I don’t mind talking about the cave.  It’s something to talk about, at least.”  She steeled herself for another breath, trying not to cough.  “What has Heartwing told you about it?”

            	“He said you were very brave.  And more polite and professional than you had any reason to be, with an enemy officer.”  Terminus laughed.  “High praise from Heartwing.’

            	“He said something,” Emberglow’s mind wandered back to the conversation.  Focusing on her memory was helpful; she could think while she mindlessly allowed one hoof to move in front of the other, over and over.  “Something about how he has conversations with the faithful?  Making them challenge their assumptions, or something like that?”

            	“Epistemology,” Terminus said, his voice lightening with recognition.

            	Emberglow barely recognized the word.  She’d heard it somewhere before.  “That’s… some philosophy thing, right?”

            	“Yeah.  I don’t get it exactly, but basically Heartwing gets ponies to ask questions about how they arrived at their religious beliefs.  He talks to ponies, and asks them to challenge their assumptions.”

            	“Like he did for me.”

            	“Like he’s been doing since he first convinced the last Grand Master of the Angelic, three centuries ago,” Terminus confirmed. 

            	“How does it work?” she asked curiously, before a splash and the sound of rushing liquid filled the pipe.  In the near complete darkness, she had no warning as the fetid water at her feet suddenly surged, splashing filth up to her muzzle.  Terminus was spluttering up ahead, and Emberglow coughed and spluttered.  She barely resisted the urge to wipe her muzzle with a hoof; given what she was stepping in, it was probably a lost cause.

            	“You okay?” Terminus asked, his voice strained.

            	“Yeah.  Sorry, we probably shouldn’t be talking,” Emberglow called back.

            	“No, it’s keeping me distracted,” Terminus said.  She hadn’t thought about that; it made her feel better that they were helping each other, rather than him just helping her.  “How does it work?  Well, basically, you break a belief down to its very smallest details, then you ask questions about those details, and how a pony came to the belief that they were true.  I haven’t had to do it much myself; I don’t go on covert missions, usually.  I’m more of a direct action sort of Knight.”

            	“It’s that easy?”

            	“It really is.  The truth…” he paused.  “Careful, there’s another small wave coming, I think.”  There was another rush of liquid, and this time Emberglow kept her muzzle closed and as high as she could as the liquid splashed against her.  “…the truth tends to defend itself, I’ve always thought.”

            	“Me too,” Emberglow said.  “But I was still deceived.”

            	“Don’t beat yourself up about it.  We were raised that way.”

            	“I know,” Emberglow replied.  It was funny; a month ago, maybe even sooner, this entire conversation would have filled her with anxiety, guilt, and doubt.  Now, it was actually comfortable enough to distract her from the foulness.

            	“So…” Terminus began again, and it was clear he was trying to reignite the conversation after she’d trailed off.  “How was Heartwing in the cave?  I’ve heard all about how well behaved you were from him, but was he polite?”

            	“Not in the slightest,” Emberglow shot back, hoping the amusement in her voice carried.  “He was an absolute cad.”  Terminus chuckled up ahead, and Emberglow had to grin.  “I’m teasing.  He was very kind.  Kinder than I had come to expect. I did have to re-educate him in first aid, but he was very patient with me.”

            	“Good to… urk… hear,” Terminus said.  “Look out.”  Taking note of the way he was spitting, she lifted her head again out of the wave that flushed down.  “I hear something up ahead.  Heartwing found an exit, maybe?”

            	Emberglow didn’t dare hope, but Terminus was right.  After only a few more dozen feet, the tunnel split, rising upwards towards an access hole covered by a metal plate.  Light suddenly cut through the blackness, sharp enough that Emberglow gasped and shielded her eyes.

            	“Hurry now,” Heartwing called from up ahead.  “We don’t want to get spotted.”  Emberglow needed no encouragement, nearly crowding against Terminus in her rush to get out of the tunnel.

            	The circle of light was still too bright for her to look at.  Emberglow waved her hooves blindly, trying to find the edge.  Instead, she felt something warm, and very slightly tingly, wrap around her and pull her into the air.  In a panic, she opened her eyes the tiniest slit to find herself surrounded by a cerulean glow.

            	Magic.  Magic was lifting her.  There was the slightest hint of terror, which she quickly crushed.  Next came the nervous fear.  It was Rarity doing the lifting.  The same mare who, just a few weeks ago, had a spell cast on her that made her practically forget how to lift things.  Emberglow only hoped the way she began gasping for air would be taken as a sign of being out of the sewer, rather than panicking about Rarity’s levitation ability.

            	“Oh, don’t be that way,” Rarity scoffed as she set Emberglow gently down on the street beside the sewer hole cover.  “You’re perfectly safe.”  Emberglow sighed, and opened her mouth to apologize before she saw the state of Rarity’s coat and mane.

            	Honestly, Emberglow didn’t care much for her own grooming, besides the necessary basics.  But Rarity did, and her heart ached to see Rarity in such a state.  Filthy water matted her fur and clothing, and her mane was flat, splashed much as Emberglow had been.  Emberglow gulped.

            	“P-please, don’t look at me,” Rarity stammered.  “I’m a mess.”

            	“No, you’re…”

            	“Don’t even start,” Rarity warned.  “I’m barely holding on as it is.”  Wisely, Emberglow pursed her lips and nodded.

            	Meanwhile, Terminus and Heartwing had replaced the sewer cover.  Emberglow took the time to glance around at their surroundings; they were in an alleyway, with only a slim passageway between two stucco buildings that led to the street.

            	“Lucky nopony was here to see us,” she noted, glancing worriedly up at the skies. At any moment a pegasus patrol could swoop by and spot them.

            	“We should get into hiding quickly,” Heartwing said.  “I remember where Willow lives; me, Justice, and Willow stopped by there last time we were in town.  Now; let’s move. Stay under awnings as much as possible.”

            	They opened up their saddlebags and pulled out fresh clothing; the large robes looked lumpy and awkward over their armor, but it was better than nothing.  Emberglow watched Rarity out of the corner of her eye; she looked stricken as she slipped off her soiled clothing and into the fresh robe.

            	Emberglow’s heart was pounding as they slipped out of the alleyway into the streets.  There were a few zebras about, and their disheveled appearance earned them a few odd looks, though no comments.  She nearly panicked when a patrol flew by overhead, but they barely glanced down. 

            	“Do you even know where we are?” Terminus asked nervously.  Heartwing gave them all a confident smile.

            	“Close enough,” Heartwing said.  He pointed at an out of place building to their north; a four-story tall oddity with a strangely open roof that rose over its neighbors.  “Landmarks.  That’s the Griffonstone embassy.  Willow pointed it out to me last time we were here.  Her house is just a block away.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	Heartwing only bothered to wait a few seconds after knocking before pushing the door of Willow’s mid-sized single story house open.  Emberglow could see the worry painted on his face.

            	“Willow!  Willow, are you home?” he called through the open door.  He only paused a second, before moving inside.  “Terminus, Emberglow, secure the rooms.  Make sure there’s nopony here.”

            	The entryway was small, with an open closet on the right with a few coats hanging, as well as the yellow robes of a Knight Discordant.  Terminus went right past the closet towards what looked like a bedroom.  Emberglow moved into the living room up ahead, then turned left towards a kitchen.

            	The kitchen was small and cramped, but clearly well loved.  The walls were covered in framed pictures of ponies and zebras; most were taken with a brightly smiling Willow standing next to them.  Emberglow noticed Heartwing, as well as Justice, Bolero and Iodine, and Chip.  She even recognized Prism, the heretic confessor from Angel’s Rest.

            	The kitchen was mostly clean, but there were still some dishes from breakfast in the sink.  She moved between the sink and the table, complete with a floral arrangement and a doily that reminded her strangely of Bubblegum.  At the rear of the kitchen was a door that led to the back yard.  Emberglow glanced outside, and saw a small, thriving garden.  The whole scene appeared far too domestic for a Knight.  For Emberglow, it drove home how truly different the Knights Discordant were from the Knights she was used to back home.  This was no Radiant cloister, no Adamant barracks.  It was a home, and a real pony lived here.

            	“Bedroom’s clear!” she heard Terminus’ voice.  “So’s the bathroom!”

            	“Living room too!” Heartwing called.  “Wine cellar’s also clear!”

            	“Kitchen is clear!” Emberglow called out.  She felt uncomfortable, like an intruder.  Not only did it feel like she was trespassing, she had an odd sensation.  It was like she was an alien to this home; that there was no way she’d ever have a home like this.  Shaking her head at her silly musings, she trotted back into the living room, where the four ponies gathered.

            	“What next?” Emberglow asked.  Rarity shrugged.  Heartwing sighed.

            	“I think we wait.  I don’t believe Willow would mind us borrowing her bathroom to clean up, and we’ll be able to change into cleaner clothing.  Hopefully she’ll come back here soon.”

            	At the mention of a bathroom, a fire lit in Rarity’s eyes.  Emberglow would have laughed, if Rarity hadn’t seemed so out-of-sorts after their brief trip through the sewers.  The poor mare needed this, and nopony was surprised when she was first on her hooves.  She hesitated, though.

            	“Maybe one of you should…”

            	“Go, Rarity,” Emberglow said, finally cracking a smile.  “We can all wait.”

            	“You are an utter gem, darling,” Rarity gushed with relief, then dashed off towards the bathroom.  Only a second later, the sounds of Willow’s shower filled the room, only covered by Terminus and Heartwing’s chuckles, only to be cut off by Rarity’s sudden shout.  “And don’t be boors, dears.  Don’t sit on poor Willow’s furniture while you’re all filthy like that!”

            	“If that doesn’t earn you a smooch, I don’t know what will,” Heartwing laughed.  Emberglow’s chest felt tight.

            	“We haven’t… there hasn’t… uh…”

            	The amusement faded from Heartwing’s eyes.  “I know.  She’s been distant.  It’s my fault.”

            	“Heartwing…” Terminus began.

            	“I’m not wallowing, Terminus,” Heartwing insisted with a roll of his eyes.  “C’mon.  Let’s find some blankets or tablecloths or something to spread over the living room couch.  I don’t want to suffer the wrath of Rarity.”

            	Despite Heartwing’s attempts at humor, the three of them sat in tense silence while Rarity’s shower continued in the bathroom.  Emberglow wanted to break the silence, to say something, maybe fill it with words hopeful or happy, but she couldn’t.  She was worried about Willow, Justice, and Chip.  She was worried about a city that had suddenly turned hostile to them.  And, on top of it all, she was worried about Rarity.

            	A few moments later, the mare in question emerged from the bathroom.  Her mane and tail was still damp, but it had clearly been brushed, and every trace of filth had been scrubbed from her coat.  Even in the circumstances, Emberglow couldn’t help but stare a bit; Rarity was radiant.

Rarity eyed the room with a sour expression.

            	“I thought I told you all…”

            	“We found blankets to sit on,” Terminus said, cutting her off.  “Don’t worry.  We didn’t make a mess.”

            	“Besides, I’ll buy Willow a new couch and chairs if she complains,” Heartwing grumbled.  “Who’s next?”

            	Emberglow jerked to her feet, fast enough that Heartwing let out a snort.  “I-I’ll go,” Emberglow said, suddenly embarrassed by her own eagerness.  She knew Rarity hadn’t said a word, but she couldn’t help but feel just a little bit exposed under Rarity’s gaze.

            	“Pile your soiled things outside the bathroom, darling.  I saw a washbasin next to the bathroom door, and I’ll clean everypony’s things before we go out again.  If we have time.”

            	“Of course, Rarity.”  Emberglow walked down the hallway to the bathroom.

            	The décor within was just like the décor in the kitchen and living room; homey, domestic, maybe a little kitschy.  Floral wallpaper covered the walls, and the towels and bathmats, still damp from Rarity’s shower, matched.  Emberglow turned the faucet to start the hot water, and began stripping off her armor and gambeson.

            	Once she was in the shower, Emberglow found that her worries became worse.  There was a sense of impending disaster; something was off, and there was nothing she could do about it.  Why hadn’t Willow and the others responded to Heartwing’s spell?  What was keeping Willow away from her home?  She tried to lose herself in scrubbing the filth from her hooves, her coat, and her wings, but by the time she finally shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, she was practically sick with worry.

            	Somepony, probably Rarity, had replaced the pile of her gambeson with a fresh one from somewhere.  It looked like it had been hastily altered for pegasus wings; Emberglow surmised it was most likely ‘borrowed’ from Willow’s closet.  She hurriedly put it on and stepped outside.

            	Rarity was the only one in the living room; Emberglow could hear Terminus doing something in the kitchen.  “Where’s Heartwing?” Emberglow dreaded the answer; what if the stallion had decided to go off on his own?

            	“Outside, hosing off your armor.”  Rarity’s response was distracted; she had the tiny construct in front of her.  “Terminus is making us a snack, and I’m filling myself in on what happened after I went to sleep.”  She didn’t even look up from the construct.  “Princess Twilight, please.  Could you clarify something for me?  Princesses Celestia and Luna.  Where did they go?”

            	“Princess Celestia and Princess Luna left Equestria to explore the Starlit Paths.”

            	“The Starlit Paths?” Rarity finally glanced at Emberglow.  “Have you ever heard of that?”  Emberglow shook her head.  “Twilight, darling.  What are the Starlit Paths?”

            	“That information has not been stored in this construct.”

            	“Why did the Princesses leave?”

            	“That information has not been stored in this construct.”

            	“Did they say anything more about the Starlit Paths?  Or why they were going there?”

            	“That information…”

            	“Yes, yes, I know,” Rarity growled with frustration.  “Has not been stored.  I swear, Twilight, you say that to me more than anything else.”

            	“You have been speaking to the construct quite a bit,” Emberglow tried to keep her voice innocent.

Of course she is.  You think she’d rather speak with a creature like you?  A murderer?  A scarred, ugly, monster?

            	“Of course I have, darling.  She’s full of all sorts of information about magic.  She’s been most helpful.  I was able to lift you, wasn’t I?” Rarity said.  Emberglow shrugged.

            	“But it doesn’t know everything, does it?” she asked. 

Rarity scowled. “No, she does not.  Frustrating, I know.  Twilight Sparkle was always so eager to share everything she knew with anypony.  And now…” she waved a hoof at the construct.  “Now it’s always ‘that information has not been stored in this construct’.”  She spat out the words in a mocking imitation of the construct’s voice.  “Tell me why, Twilight?”

“Please refine your query,” was the only response, which drew another frustrated groan from Rarity.

“Um, Rarity.”  Emberglow was struck with a disturbing thought, from what she’d said.  “You don’t think this construct is the real Twilight Sparkle, do you?”

Emberglow watched as a symphony of emotions danced across Rarity’s face, from anger to guilt to confusion.  “N-no, that would be silly,” Rarity protested, before quickly picking up the construct with her magic.  “Besides, I think that’s quite enough from her…”

“It, Rarity.  Not her. It is not Twilight Sparkle.”

“I know that!” Rarity hissed, and Emberglow took a few quick steps back in alarm.  “I know that,” she repeated more calmly.  “But it’s the closest I’ll get.”

Emberglow didn’t know what to say.  “Sorry.”  It felt limp.

“It’s fine, darling,” Rarity said dismissively, looking away.  She floated the construct into her saddlebags.  “Let’s just drop it.”

            	But Emberglow didn’t really want to drop it.  Jealousy burned in her chest, like a wicked little spark that flared every time Rarity called it by Twilight’s name, or spent all her time with the enchanted figurine.  Still, it wasn’t worth the fight.  Not right now, at least.

Pathetic.  Jealous of a mare dead a thousand years.  No wonder things are cooling off between the two of you.  

            	“Okay,” Emberglow breathed, shoving her inner voice deep.  “Did you… enjoy your shower?”  She cringed at her own clumsy attempt at small talk, but Rarity did perk up a little.

            	“After the horror that we experienced earlier?  It was divine, darling.”  A shadow of Rarity’s cheerful smile graced her muzzle.  “Don’t think for a second that will stop me from taking Heartwing up on his offer, however.”

            	“A month’s worth of spa treatments?” Emberglow grinned as she said it, and Rarity nodded resolutely.

            	“So far, the circumstances of this adventure have stopped me from truly being able to enjoy these wonderful foreign markets, and I’m sure that includes spas.  He has a lot to make up for.”  As attempts at humor went, it was a little limp.  “I may even demand he pays for you, as well.”

            	The idea of a month’s worth of spa treatments with Rarity made her gulp.  “Um, yes, that would be nice.”  Emberglow tried to sound casual.  “What…”

            	The front door burst open hard enough to slam against the opposite wall.  The noise caused both mares to jump, with Emberglow lunging in front of Rarity.

            	“Chip?  Justice?  Are you…” Willow burst into the room.  She was a mess, with blood splattered on her armor.  Dirt and mud were caked on as well, and her mane was in disarray.  “Rarity?  Emberglow?  What are…”

            	“Get Heartwing,” Emberglow said, rushing over to Willow.

            	“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Willow protested, though she let Emberglow guide her over to the couch.  Rarity rushed for the back door.  “Most of this isn’t mine.  Why does it smell like a sewer in here?”

            	“We had to get creative sneaking into the city,” Emberglow said.  “Rarity and I took showers, though I think Heartwing and Terminus just hosed off in your back yard.  Our soiled stuff is in your laundry.  Speaking of soiled stuff, though, let me help you out of your armor.  You need an exam.”

            	“Yes, doctor,” Willow said.  Both ponies glanced up when they heard the back door slam open, followed by the thunder of hooves as Heartwing and Terminus raced into the room.  Heartwing trailed water from his drenched mane and tail, though his own gambeson looked fresh, if a little damp.  “Hey, boss.  See you made yourself at home.”

            	“Willow!  What happened?”

            	“Got a lead we’ve been working on for a few days now.  Something about Makucha ya Paka.  It’s a small volcanic island a few miles to the north, off the coast.  The Diarchy’s been building an outpost there.”

            	“And Jubilation is letting them?”  Heartwing was incredulous.  Emberglow began carefully removing Willow’s armor one piece at a time,

            	“They’ve protested.  But I think they’ve been leery of starting a fight over something so simple.  It’s not a fort or anything, just a tiny port with a few buildings.  I thought it was weird; when the Diarchy is trying so hard to get in good with the Merchant’s Council, why aggravate them over a tiny outpost that doesn’t even seem to be a military installation?”

            	“What is it, then?” Heartwing asked.

            	“That’s what we’ve been looking into.  Justice, Chip, and I were going to charter a boat today, a smuggler captain who would take us to the western side of the island and let us off so we could go take a look.  But something was off.  Somepony was spying on us, I thought, so I called it off to try and lose our tail.  We split up to head back here.  Only… they should have been here before me.” 

            	“That doesn’t explain how you got blood all over you,” Emberglow noted.  “Where are you wounded?”

            	“I told you, most of it’s not mine.  After I split off from Justice and Chip, I looped around to challenge my tail.  Some young Adamant punk who thought he could take me in a fight.  I informed him differently.”

            	“It’s not all his,” Emberglow said, gently cleaning dried blood around a slice on Willow’s cheek.

            	“He got lucky a couple times before I sent him running,” Willow smirked, holding out a hoof for Heartwing to bump.  He did so with a proud grin.

            	“At least you didn’t leave behind a body we’d have to explain,” Heartwing said.  “With how things are going for us politically, we don’t need any bad press in Jubilation right now.”

            	“Do you have extra batteries?” Emberglow asked.

            	“Hidden storage cubby, behind the photograph of me and Heartwing in the kitchen,” Willow said, pointing.  “I’ve got three there.”

            	“I’ll get it,” Terminus called.  He’d been listening from the kitchen door.  “I hope you don’t mind I raided your fridge.”

            	“Food sounds amazing right now, but we’ll have to eat on the go,” Willow said.  “I can’t rest while Justice and Chip are still out there.”

            	“You should be…”

            	“Emberglow, no.  I’ve got a few little scratches, nothing…” Willow cut off with a gasp when Emberglow found a particularly deep cut right on one of her hind legs.  “Okay, maybe mostly just a few little scratches.”

            	Terminus came back in with the batteries, as well as a tray of chopped veggies he’d scavenged from Willow’s fridge.  “Eat up.”

            	“We’ll get going as soon as Emberglow’s healed Willow,” Heartwing said.  “Tell us everything you know about where Chip and Justice went.”

            	“We split up, like I said,” Willow said.  “I was hoping to peel off more of the Knights following us, but looks like I only got one.  I looped wide, cutting through the factory district to try and throw them off me.  Lots of infrastructure to confuse, you know?  Justice and Chip were going to try to avoid the overhead patrols by getting lost in the crowds at the market.”

            	“Maybe they got arrested by the Jubilation patrols?” Terminus mused.

            	Heartwing shrugged.  “If they did, they’re probably in danger.  Let’s hurry and get ready to go."


*   *   *   *   *


            	In the end, they decided to split up.  Terminus and Emberglow, dressed in civilian clothing, would take to the air over the markets.  With no armor or weapons, hopefully the patrols would not notice them.  Meanwhile, Heartwing and Rarity would trace the route Justice and Chip were supposed to follow, seeing if they could pick up anything on the back trail.  Willow reluctantly agreed to stay behind, in case Justice and Chip made it back.

            	For safety, they’d left the Elements back at Willow’s house.  It made Emberglow feel exposed; like a part of her was missing.  But there was no sense advertising who they were, now.

            	“This is oddly familiar,” Terminus noted as they took off.  Emberglow had to agree.  Familiar, and unsettling.  The last time she and Terminus had been flying over Jubilation, it hadn’t ended well, either.  “So a quick flyover, and then a more detailed go if we don’t see them the first time?”

            	“Sure,” Emberglow said.

            	“That scarf is new,” Terminus said casually, and Emberglow blushed.  She’d put on a simple tunic that Willow had loaned her, but had also retrieved the scarf Rarity had gotten her from Nyumba Ya Joka.

            	“We got it.  Rarity and I.  Before the dragon, and before she stopped…”  Emberglow trailed off.  Terminus winged close enough to reach out and pat her on the shoulder.

            	“Hang in there.  This will pass.  She just needs some time to process what’s happened.”

            	“Terminus, I…” Emberglow took a deep breath.  “I’m worried she’s not processing it.  I think she’s spending too much time with that Twilight construct.  Earlier today, I asked her if she thought it was the real Twilight.  She said no, but she seemed defensive.”

            	Terminus stayed thoughtfully silent as they flew, the city spreading out beneath them.  Emberglow tried her best to focus on the few ponies mixed into the crowds below, but nopony looked like Justice or Chip.

            	“I could talk to her,” Terminus said after a while.  “But I don’t think that’d be the best idea.  I’m not exactly objective, you know.  At least not in this.”

            	“I know,” Emberglow said.  “I just don’t know what to do.  I was going to ask Topaz next time we spoke, but then, the other night happened.”  She smiled at him.  “I’m glad that turned out well for you, though.  Heartwing needed a kick in the rump.”

            	“Yeah,” Terminus said.  “Hey, is that…” He dipped his wings and shot down a few feet, before flaring them again.  “No.  Sorry.  Looked like Chip’s colors, but it was a mare.”

            	“Good eye, though,” Emberglow said.  She glanced up as a trio of shadows darted by overhead.  It was a patrol, dressed in the Jubilation guard’s uniform.  The pegasus in the lead position eyed her, then flew on.  It seemed they really were looking for armed and armored targets.  Still, it did nothing to make Emberglow’s heart rate slow down.

            	“Is it naïve that I just keep hoping to find out that they just got distracted and are shopping somewhere?” Terminus muttered, barely loud enough for Emberglow to hear over the rushing of the wind past them.

            	“Not naïve.  Hopeful.”  Emberglow pointed at a couple of ponies at a booth in the distance.  “Is that them?”

            	“No.  Justice isn’t a unicorn,” Terminus said, and Emberglow sighed.  “Maybe we should be on hoof, asking if anypony saw them.”

            	“We should be.  I’m useless without two eyes,” Emberglow scoffed.

            	“You’re doing fine.  Don’t…”  Terminus trailed off.  “Hey, is that zebra waving at us?”

            	Emberglow looked.  It was a zebra street performer, the same one that had flirted with Rarity after telling them the tale of the Princess and Captain Celeano.  He was looking up at them, waving frantically with one hoof.

            	Emberglow and Terminus landed and furled their wings, as the zebra glanced back and forth between them.  “I’m glad I saw you two,” he said.  “The Great Yazid never forgets an audience as appreciative and fascinating as you two, even if you’re in different attire.”  His eyes shot up towards the sky.  “They are looking for you.”

            	“I thought the Jubilation guard were on the lookout for illegal weapons possession?” Terminus asked.

            	Yazid shook his head.  “Not them.  The Knights.”  He looked worried.  “Come.  I have something to show you.”

            	Emberglow and Terminus shared a wary look, and Terminus narrowed his eyes at Yazid.  “Why should we trust you?”

            	“Because the Great Yazid may never forget an audience, but he also never forgets a debt.  And I owe more than I can ever pay to the one called The Ghost.  Come, we need your help.”  He gestured with a hoof, his eyes darting all about as he took a few steps up the street.

            	“Ambush?” Emberglow whispered at Terminus. 

Terminus shrugged.  “I don’t know.  He seems sincere.”

“I feel naked without my armor,” Emberglow whispered back, and Terminus gave her a sympathetic look.  “I’d rather not walk into an ambush without it.”

“We may not have a choice,” Terminus said.  “What if he’s telling the truth?”

Yazid had stopped, waiting for them.  His hooves tapped nervously against the street as they spoke.  Emberglow watched his eyes; the way they shot around, searching the crowd.  She held her breath for a second, then made a decision.

“I’d rather trust,” she sighed.  “Besides, he said he needs our help.”

Yazid moved slowly through the market’s crowd.  It was the same mix of creatures Emberglow remembered from before: zebras, ponies, minotaurs, and even a few griffons and diamond dogs.  They went about their business, calling to each other, bartering and arguing and bargaining and buying, all the while completely unaware of what was going on around them.  It was a bustle of life and normalcy.

“You must hurry,” Yazid whispered as they walked.  “I found him only an hour ago, but he is injured.”

“He?”

“The Ghost’s squire.  The young one, with the stammer?  My foal is seeing to him as we speak.”

It made Emberglow quicken her pace, even though she still nervously glanced around her shoulder.  Any one of these strange creatures could be some sort of Diarchy informant.  Or maybe something not even that sinister; they could turn Terminus and her into the Jubilation guard.  That could be where they were headed right now.

Yazid led them to a market stall, with a young zebra stallion displaying boxes full of brightly colored foal’s toys.  His eyes lit up as Yazid approached.  “Father!  It is good you are here.  Penha is in the back with the… with the colt.”  Emberglow noticed the way he hesitated, and it made her hackles raise.  She gulped.  She and Terminus were both about to step into an unknown situation, with zebras she wasn’t sure she trusted.  She nearly took wing and flew away.

“Please hurry, my friends,” Yazid walked behind the younger zebra., where a broad tent cloth covered the back of the stall.  With a glance to ensure nopony was watching them, he pulled back the tent flap to reveal two ponies inside; a young zebra mare and a prone unicorn.  It was Chip.

Emberglow rushed inside.  Chip was sweaty, sticky with blood, and his eyes were closed.  His clothing was torn and stained.  Emberglow sat down near his head, and had to hold back a cry of horror.

Chip’s horn was severed at the base.  Right next to the fur on his forehead was a smooth stump.  Emberglow whimpered as she ran her hoof over the remains, feeling the slightest texture of what felt like marks from a bone saw.

“What happened?” Emberglow carefully felt along his body, looking for life-threatening injuries.  Well, besides the life-ending injuries at his horn.  She gulped back the lump in her throat.

“He was attacked by Diarchy thugs.  The Ghost then went chasing after those vicious slugs.”  The zebra mare was rhyming.  Emberglow took a moment to look her over; she wore elaborately colored robes, and her ears were pierced at least six times with several gold and silver rings.  Surrounding them on the ground was a collection of potions and herbs, complete with a mortar and pestle.  It looked like she’d been assembling some sort of potion or poultice when Emberglow and Terminus had arrived.

“You’re a shaman?” she guessed, and the mare nodded, looking surprised.

“You know that a zebra shaman rhymes?  You must have met another, in better times.”

“Not better at all,” Emberglow muttered.  She really didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with Chip moaning and twitching in his sleep below her. “Is he awake?”

“Earlier he was just weeping; it is a mercy that he’s now sleeping.”  The shaman pointed at her work, the mixture she was preparing.  “I can help with the pain, wash it away like a summer rain.  But I don’t know the cure for a unicorn’s missing horn; the rumors I hear say we can do nothing but mourn.”

“Mix your potion,” Emberglow choked out.  She could hear Chip’s voice in her head, his cheerful eagerness peppered with the slight stammer.  Penha nodded, pulling several dried roots out of a pouch and placing them in the mortar before beginning to smash them.  “I’ve heard the same.  If that’s right, there’s nothing we can do but make his last few days comfortable.”

“Can you wake him up?” Terminus said.  “We need to know what happened to him, then we need to find Justice.”

“I didn’t see the attack,” Yazid said.  “A friend of Penha’s did, and brought the young colt to her. She’s patched up his injuries, but she asked me to keep an eye out for any of you people.”  He sighed.  “I know Justice from years ago; she saved Penha’s mother from a Diarchy forced labor camp.”

“But where’s Justice?  She wouldn’t have left her squire unless she was dead or captured.”  Even as Terminus said it, Emberglow felt a chill down her spine.

“My friend brought me the colt, said she saw the attackers bolt.”  Penha didn’t look up from the potion she was mixing.  “They were Diarchy Knights with lavender barding; the new Knights, not the ones doing the embassy guarding.”

Brightblade.  It was Brightblade.  Emberglow’s mouth went dry.  She glanced down at Chip, who was still moaning and twitching in his sleep.  “You’ll… you’ll make sure he’s okay?  That he gets back to his family?”  She couldn’t remember if he’d said he had any.  Penha nodded, and Emberglow gulped.  “Could you show us, Yazid?  Do you know where he was attacked?”  She felt a hoof on her shoulder.  It was Terminus.

“I can take you there, yes,” Yazid said carefully.  “I am no fighter, though.”

“Just… show us where, and then you can go,” Emberglow said.  She could feel the blood pounding in her ears.  Brightblade.  It was Brightblade.  And she’d had a chance to…

She was breathing hard as she stood up, taking a step away from Chip and the shaman.

“Keep him safe,” she rasped.  “Keep him comfortable.”  Tears burned in her eyes.  Penha nodded, and Emberglow backed away.  Yazid closed the tent flap, hiding the horror that she’d helped create with her actions.

Emberglow was eager to follow Yazid to the place of the attack, but Terminus was hesitating.  “Should we find Heartwing, first?  Let him know what’s going on?”

“How long ago was Chip attacked?” Emberglow asked.

Yazid shrugged.  “An hour?  Maybe less.  My daughter sent a messenger to me, and I went to look for the colt’s friends.  I found you.”

“Did you see anypony else you remember?” Emberglow asked.  “Like the white unicorn?  The pretty one, you flirted with?”  She flinched.  Suddenly the jealousy she’d felt when Yazid and Rarity had spoken felt painfully petty.

“I would remember if I ever saw her again,” Yazid said with the ghost of a smile.  “But alas, no.”

“I don’t think we have time to look for Rarity and Heartwing,” Emberglow said, answering Terminus’ earlier question.  “We have to find Justice.  Take us to where the attack happened.”

Once again they found themselves weaving through the crowd.  This time, though, Emberglow couldn’t look up to see all the faces of the creatures around them.

She felt the same sense of nervous dread as before, when they’d first followed Yazid to his family’s booth.  But he’d turned out to be trustworthy.

Yazid led them to a narrow alleyway between a pair of warehouses.  The space between the buildings’ roofs was strung with netting, which Emberglow eyed nervously..

“A bunch of foals strung the netting up years ago.  There’s a space back there for the kids to kick a ball around or play tag while their parents work or shop in the marketplace, and they put the netting up to make a little shade.”  Yazid had clearly noticed her trepidation.  She glanced down the alleyway, which was just a little too dark for comfort.

“My daughter told me they found the young stallion in there,” he continued.  “I don’t know if they looked for Lady Justice at all.  But the other Knights lured the two of them into the alley somehow, then attacked.”

“Looks ripe for an ambush,” Terminus said.  Emberglow nodded, her gaze moving about the dirt on the ground and the walls, searching the wide-open windows for any sign of suspicious ponies.

It was then that she saw the blood.  There was a smear along the wall, near the entrance to the alleyway, at about head height.  It looked like somepony had placed a hoof on the wall as they were stumbling along, leaving a trail of red along the brown stucco.  Emberglow dashed over, looking close.

“Terminus!  Blood!” she hissed, and he looked up.  “Do you think it’s Chip’s?”  He shrugged, and she looked deeper into the shadowy alley.

There were more bloodstains, some smeared on the wall just like this one, and even a few splatters on the ground.  Emberglow moved into the narrow space, pausing at each spot to try and piece together what happened.  It looked like somepony was bleeding as they tried to stumble out of the alleyway.

“Where did you say they found Chip?” Emberglow asked.

“Inside the alley,” Yazid said from behind them.  Something about that felt off.  The blood pattern made it look like somepony was leaving the alley; why would Chip have left, while bleeding, only to come back?  She followed the blood deeper until the space between the alleys opened into the playground that Yazid had mentioned.

It was really just a bare spot of pounded dirt, nestled behind several other buildings.  Somepony had constructed a pair of soccer goals on either side of the small square, and there was a pair of deflated balls sitting in one corner.  Another corner had a makeshift row of bleachers; constructed of abandoned crates stacked on each other to form two rows of seats.  The air was cool, sheltered from above by the netting.  There was also a light breeze blowing in from the space’s other exit; another narrow alleyway on the other side opposite Emberglow.

She stepped in carefully, glancing around for any signs of ponies.  There were none that she could see.  It felt claustrophobic; much like the sewer earlier that day, with the walls and the ceiling seeming to encroach down all around her.  She shivered, and Terminus was close enough to hear.

“You okay?” he said, and she nodded.  “The blood trail goes back here.”  He pointed at the crates over in the corner, and she moved over, flapping her wings to get just a little bit airborne as she did so.  It wasn’t typical of her, but she felt the need to give herself some space.  It helped a little with the sensation of being closed in.

“Wish we had our gauntlets,” Terminus muttered as they looked over the crates.  Emberglow nodded.  A little more light would be helpful; there was nothing there to see.  But the blood led here.

“It looks like… there was a fight in this alley,” Emberglow guessed, though it was hard to tell for sure.  There were scuffles and hoofprints in the thin layer of loose dirt over the hard packed ground, but that could have been from foals playing soccer.  There were no other signs of a fight.  “I can’t see well.”  She tried to ignore the surge of anger she felt at her infirmity; Emberglow did her best to ignore her missing eye, but it became rather hard to not think about when it made things inconvenient, like seeing in the dim light.  “Look at this.  Is that…?”

She pointed at a row of scuff marks next to one of the crates.  It was hard to tell, but it looked like the crate had been moved.  Terminus flew over, peering at the ground.  “Yeah.  Help me move it.”

The two of them grabbed either side of the crate and lifted.  The wood was splintered and jagged, and shifted about awkwardly, like it was on the verge of falling apart.  The two of them barely managed to move it a few feet before the plank Emberglow was grabbing broke, the whole ramshackle assembly clattering to the ground.

“Is that…” Terminus gasped.  “Oh, Saints, no…”

The broken crate had been hiding an opening in one right behind it.  Inside was Justice; still and bloody.  She wore her gambeson still, but her armor was gone.  Her eyes were wide open and glazed, and a grimace of pain was frozen on her face.  Still, Emberglow had to check, feeling for a pulse in vain hope.  There was none.

“Let’s… let’s get her out of there,” Terminus said weakly.  Emberglow nodded, and the two of them gently pulled the body out of the hole she’d been stuffed into.  “Can you tell how she died?”

“Not in this light,” Emberglow said.  They laid her down on the ground, away from the crates, and Emberglow reached up to close the Knight’s eyes.  Terminus crouched down next to her, grief plain on his face.  “I can guess, though.”  There was blood all over Justice’s gambeson, and Emberglow could see plenty of wounds.  The deepest was just below her neck.

Something was wrong, though.  Something tickling at the back of her head.  “There’s not nearly enough blood here for a wound like that,” she mused.  “Justice was moved.  She wasn’t killed here.”

“She…” Terminus began, then stood up quickly, looking back the way they came.  “Yazid?  What’s going on?”

Emberglow followed his gaze.  Yazid stood far away, at the mouth of the alley, shifting back and forth on his hooves nervously.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed.  The sound echoed just enough in the narrow space to reach them.  “I had to.  They said they’d hurt my family if I didn’t.  I’m sorry.”

The cold sense of dread, of coming doom, that Emberglow had been feeling all day crashed in all around her.  She shot to her hooves alongside Terminus in time to see figures crowding in behind Yazid.  It was zebras, dressed in the uniform of the Jubilation guard.

“Time to go,” Terminus spat.  They both moved towards the other exit, only to freeze as they saw another blocking that direction.  Brightblade.

“This is where I saw them taking the body, officers,” He called out.  His voice, hated and far too familiar, filled the space and Emberglow’s head like a violation.  The smugness in his voice, the victorious sort of hitch, was something she’d heard a thousand times before.  Her limbs stiffened, her wings froze in the act of extending.

It’s your fault.  You could have killed him.

“No,” she whispered.

Your fault.  Justice dead.  Chip dying.  You and Terminus captured.  Your fault.

“No…”

Her hooves twitched, and she felt the phantom pain of a hundred strikes of a rod, a hoof, a dozen different implements of torture spread across her flesh.  The Jubilation guards were getting closer, and she could hear the metallic clinking of the shackles they carried.  Shackles like the ones she’d worn before.

“No!”

Terminus is going to be tortured, just like you were.  Because of your stupid oath.

A scream tore out of Emberglow’s throat as her vision went red.  She felt a hoof on her shoulder.  Somepony trying to hold her back, somepony calling her name.  She flailed with her hoof, striking something hard as she heard Terminus’ cry of pain.  And then she was charging, hooves churning up dust as she dove towards the voice that haunted her nightmares.

 
> Interlude: ???
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The page is blank except for two sentences.

There used to be more.  I had more.  Then I sold them.  For…

For…

I don’t remember.

But those two sentences are always there.

It’s my fault she’s missing.

It’s my fault she’s dead.

Other words float around.  Redemption.  Restitution.  Forgiveness.  But for a long time, only those two sentences were on the page.

How long?

Minutes, maybe.  Or longer?  I don’t know.  I can’t remember.  I sold that for…

…something.

But now there’s more words on the page.  I didn’t put them there.  Names.  She is Rarity.  I used to know that.  Now I know it again.

I know my name, too.  It’s…

I'm sure it was...

I remember Sunburst.  The little foal isn’t Sunburst.  But he is?  I don’t know.  

Not-Sunburst’s father tells me we’re going to see Rarity.

I see the pain in his eyes of every pony he’s had to hurt.  Ponies shouldn’t kill ponies.

We’re on a boat.  Sometimes I forget why.  I’m filling the page with more sentences, but sometimes they disappear.  Not those two, though.

It’s my fault she’s missing.

It’s my fault she’s dead.

I talk to Sunburst every day.  Wait, no.  Not-Sunburst.  When he speaks, it stays on the page longer.  He doesn’t say much, he’s just a foal.  He’s so sweet and curious, though.  He thinks I’ve been hurt, and he wants to find out how, so he can fix it.

How do I remember that?

We’re going to see her.  Rarity.  She’s alive.  Not-Sunburst’s father says so.  I don’t know what I’ll do when I see her.  I found her place.  Stayed there for a few days.  Years?  I don’t know.  I kept something for her, but now it belongs to…

Lofty Tale.  I remember that sometimes, before it leaves the page too.  Lofty Tale, his marefriend Topaz, and his son True.  Not-Sunburst.

Remembering hurts.  Sometimes it’s better to have nothing on the page.  Sometimes I wish I could erase everything.  Even those two sentences.

But I can.  I know I can.  Once I meet Rarity.  Once I know she’s safe, that sentence can go away.  It can be erased.

That just leaves her.

It’s my fault she’s dead.  But I can erase her sentence too.  Somepony was working on it.  There’s a book.

It’s in my hoofwriting.  I don’t remember.

But in the book there are spells.  Looking at the spells hurts.  I can’t remember why, but I can feel it.  It hurts me.  Shames me.  I used one of them to…

…it broke me once.

But if I give the spells  to them, they can undo things.  Maybe.  Erase the sentence.  

Only, one of them is going to have to die if I do.

I don’t care.  I’m tired.
> Chapter 46
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 46


Excerpt from a magical journal, with entries written by Sir Terminus Flash of the Knights Discordant and Colibri, of Angel’s Rest

Hey Butterfly-

It breaks my heart that I’m gonna miss the wedding.  We’re on our way back to Jubilation, but the way things are going?  I’ll be surprised if we’re back in time.  There’s little chance of us finding the Element of Magic and making it back.  I’m really sorry.  You’ll draw pictures in the journal, right?

Things are a mess here.  Rarity is still giving Heartwing the snowy treatment, but can you blame her?  I want to help, but I’m not exactly objective.  I wish we had all the time in the world to let her sort her feelings out, but things always seem to be moving too quickly to let us slow down and take stock.  The worst part is, she can’t see how much she’s hurting Emberglow.

They almost had something going, you know.  You would have loved to see it.  But now Rarity's withdrawing in on herself, barely talking to any of us and only communicating with that little construct of hers.

Lest you think all is doom and gloom, there have been some good developments.  The other Elements of Harmony got in touch with us in our dreams!  It’s a long story, but we all went inside Heartwing’s dream and rescued him from a nightmare, together.

It’s kinda private, but the end result is progress.  Good progress.  I’ll share more when I know more, but I’m hopeful.

Tomorrow we get into Jubilation.  I’ll try to stay in touch, but I’m sure things will be chaotic.

Stay safe, and give Slate my love.

 

Hey Termie!

So, news, and you’re not allowed to be mad.

Slate and I decided to delay the wedding.  It wasn’t because of your latest message!  We just couldn’t stand to have the ceremony until you got back.

SO YOU COME BACK UNHARMED, OKAY?  OR ELSE I’M GONNA HARM YOU PLENTY!

So I can’t draw pictures of the wedding, because we’re waiting on my best stallion.  You'll just have to be here in person.  We can, however, draw pictures of the dress.  Klieo will, at least.  She’s the one who finished it, based on Rarity’s design.

Honestly, Termie?  I don’t know how else to say this, but I’ve never felt more ‘me’ than when I tried on the dress for the first time.  I just wanted to spread my wings and fly all over Angel’s Rest, show everypony just how happy I am.

In other news, things here are tense, but in a good way.  The Knights, even Slate, are all eager.  Like they’re dancing on their hooves, ready to spring off in any direction at once.  We can all tell that something big is coming.  All of us feel it.  Cobalt has all the Knights in a state of readiness; he’s cancelled non-essential raids, and is ammassing Knights and regulars for whenever Heartwing calls.

I’m afraid.  Most of my friends are Knights.  Dad’s talking about re-enlisting.  Mom, of course, would be with any supply train.  And I still feel the instinct to pray to the Saints, to ask them to watch out for you.

I’m thinking about volunteering.  The idea of fighting, of hurting another pony, makes my legs shake and my eyes clench up.  I still remember what it felt like last time.  The way the knife drove into—

nevermind i cant think about it any more its over i cant

Sorry about that.  Cobalt tells me if I volunteer, I can sign up to work with the quartermasters.  So I’d be doing logistics, food preparation, supply chain stuff.  I wouldn’t have to—

Write me back, okay?  I want to know what you think.  Slate’s supportive, but I can see the fear in his eyes.  But if something huge is coming, I just don’t know if I can be away from him, and you, and Mom and Dad.

Sorry to dump all my drama on you.  Give that sweetheart of yours a hug and a kiss from me, okay?  And I’m really happy it sounds like he’s getting better.  Don’t you dare let him backslide.

P.S. Could you pass along a message to Rarity for me, from Klieo?  Let her know the necklace she wanted made is done.  That’s a really cool gemstone, but Dad says he doesn’t think it’s a diamond.  It almost looks like amber, but it’s clear instead of yellow.  Where’d she get it?

A few days later

Termie?  Haven’t heard from you in a while.

Termie?

Terminus Flash, is everything okay?

1113 AF, Jubilation

            	Rarity tromped into Willow’s home, her shoulders slumped, her horn barely flickering as she pulled the door open.

            	“I do hope Emberglow and Terminus had better luck than we did.  Not a peep!”  She tried not to sound petulant, but several hours in unpleasant company could do that to a mare.  The thought was unworthy, and she felt a twinge of guilt before she reminded herself why Heartwing’s company was so unpleasant these days.  They’d spent the entire time searching for Justice and Chip in near-complete silence, barely even shooting each other awkward glances.

            	“I hope so, too,” Heartwing said as they moved into the living room.  “It’s…”

            	He cut off when they saw Willow’s living room was occupied.  Two zebras sat on the couch.  One, a young mare, looked furious.  The other’s face was twisted with regret.  Rarity recognized the colorfully-dressed storyteller from the Gold Run, the one who’d first told her the story of Celeano’s last flight.  Willow stood behind him, a storm cloud of fury in her eyes.

            	The zebra mare’s eyes lit up when they entered the room, and she bowed low.  “Forgive our intrusion, but we came to confess a collusion.”  She shoved the other zebra with one hoof.  “Penha is my name, and my father, Yazid, has come in shame.”

            	Yazid’s guilty eyes locked on the floor.  “It’s true.  But I had no choice!”

            	“What happened?” Heartwing stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he got right in Yazid’s face.  The zebra flinched away.

            	“This coward told us he sold out Emberglow and Terminus to the Mystics!” Willow snapped.  Rarity gasped, and Heartwing’s horn flared with angry yellow light.  The front of Yazid’s robes glittered yellow as he was hauled to his hooves, muzzle to muzzle with Heartwing.

            	“You will tell me what happened.  Now.”  His voice was cold with promised retribution.  Yazid gulped.

            	“P-please, there is no need…”

            	“This is not telling me what happened.”  Yazid’s robes twisted in Heartwing’s magic, and he let out a strangled sort of gulp.  Rarity was about to step forward, but Heartwing suddenly released him, then shoved with one hoof, throwing Yazid back into the couch.  “Talk.  And no sniveling and begging.  I’m not in the mood.”

            	“M-my daughter witnessed an attack.  Your Knight Justice and her squire, assaulted by that Knight Mystic with the silvery mane.  A few others, too.  They… cut off the squire’s horn.”

            	Rarity hissed, sucking air in through a clenched jaw.  Chocolate Chip, that sweet colt with a stutter.  Hornless?  She felt faint even thinking of it.

            	“Where is Chip now?”  Heartwing’s voice was the eye of a hurricane, calm in the middle of a raging fury.

            	“Safe and resting.  He’s in the bedroom,” Willow said.  Rarity wanted to scream.  He wasn’t safe and resting.  He was sick and dying.

            	“Okay.”  Heartwing took a deep breath, and Rarity could see he was trembling.  “We’ll set that aside for now.  Where are Terminus and Emberglow?”

            	“You have to understand, they made me!” Yazid pled.  “I had…”  his robes twisted again in Heartwing’s yellow magic, and he squeaked with fear.  “Okay!  Okay!  After Penha came and told me what she’d seen, and we’d taken the squire to a safe place, the silver-maned Mystic cornered me.  He threatened my family, said he’d kill my daughter and her husband if I didn’t lure them into a trap.”

            	He told the story, his voice coming out in fits and bursts as he nervously shot glances between Willow and Heartwing.  He confessed to leading the Jubilation Guard and a Knight Mystic to surround and capture Emberglow and Terminus.

            	“When they were cornered, the mare…” Yazid gulped, trembling in fear.  “She… went berserk.  She threw herself at the Mystic, pounding at him with her hooves.  She was shrieking and yelling something.  I think she even clipped the other one, her friend, when he tried to hold her back.  It took four of the Jubilation zebras to pull her off him, and he was pretty bruised.  Laughing, though.”

            	“But where are they now?” Heartwing hissed, low and furious.  Yazid tried to shrink into the couch cushions.

            	“They were taken to the Treaty Hall,” Yazid’s daughter chimed in.  “With chains, muzzles, and all.”  Heartwing turned his baleful gaze on her, and she stood her ground, meeting his eyes.

            	“S-she had nothing to do with it, she didn’t know.  It was all me, I…” Yazid babbled, but Heartwing’s backhoof slap silenced him.

            	“Your turn to talk is done,” he growled, and turned back to the daughter, who glared at him angrily.  “You’re sure?  They went to the Treaty Hall?”  She nodded, and Heartwing turned to Rarity.

            	“Heartwing…”

            	“C’mon, Rarity.  We’re getting them back.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	“What do you think you’re doing?” Rarity demanded angrily, scrambling to keep up with Heartwing’s pace.

            	“We have no resources, no backup.  Emberglow and Terminus are in jail.  I’m out of options.  So I’m going to appeal to a higher power.”

            	“A higher power?”  Rarity could barely take in the sights around them as she panted in his wake.  Several zebras eyed them askance as Heartwing rudely pushed through the locals, leaving Rarity to offer hastily muttered apologies and embarrassed smiles as she followed.

            	“Flurry Heart hates me.  Her subordinates worldwide have a standing order to arrest me and drag me to the Empire to stand trial.  For… for you know what.”  He trailed off into a silent mutter.  

            	“So you’re going to surrender yourself to agents of the Empire?” Rarity scoffed.

            	“In exchange for their help freeing Terminus and Emberglow?” Heartwing said?  “Yes.  In a heartbeat.”

            	“Sacrificing yourself can’t be the best option,” she pled with him.  He stopped, turning back to look at her.  His eyes were wide, full of worry.  It brought her up short.

            	“You don’t think I know that?” he whispered harshly, his eyes darting about impatiently as his tail lashed about.  He turned away from her again, and sighed.  “If you believe you can think of something better, you have until we get to the Crystal Empire’s embassy.  Besides, tell me there’s not a part of you that wouldn’t mind seeing me in chains for what I’ve done.”

            	It stung, but he wasn’t wrong.  She stared at him until he started to gallop again, before scrambling after him.

            	“I’m sorry!” she called out to his back.  He didn’t turn.  “I’m still going to need some time, Heartwing!”  He ignored her.

            	The crowd had thinned by the time they reached the Crystal Empire embassy.  Like most buildings in Jubilation, it was a single story with wide windows and a flat roof, surrounded by a tall wall with a gate at the front.

There were two guards at the closed gate, crystal ponies wearing lavender-colored uniforms and bearing rifles with bayonets.  Heartwing slowed his gallop to a walk as he approached.

“Greetings, gentlestallions,” he addressed them grandly, as Rarity rushed up, panting.  How was he not out of breath?  “I have pressing business I need to discuss with Ambassador Honeycomb.”

“The ambassador is a busy mare, mister…” the guard began, trailing off a bit condescendingly.

“My name is Heartwing.  I don’t have any sort of appointment, but if you give the Ambassador my name I’m sure she’ll deign to speak with me,” Heartwing smirked confidently.  “After all, I have a warrant for my arrest issued by the pink dodo herself.”

The guards looked confused.  “Dodo?”

“You know, small, flightless bird?” Heartwing said.  “Completely powerless, runs around in the dirt, that sort of thing?”  He sighed at their blank expressions.  “I’m insulting your princess, you morons.”

“Heartwing, darling?” Rarity chimed in cautiously.  “I’m not exactly sure that…”

“One moment, please,” he said calmly.  Rarity gaped in shock as he strolled closer to the guards, and they began to lower their bayonets threateningly.  “I’m trying to get arrested.  I thought insulting Princess Penguin Puff might be the fastest way.”

“T-trying to get arrested?” Rarity stammered.  “Why would you…”

“Please, Heartwing,” the guard began.

“Sir Heartwing.  Of the Knights Discordant, if that helps,” he interrupted.  “Sorry, continue.”

The two guards gave each other nervous glances, and one nodded.

“Please wait right here,” he said, as his fellow fully lowered the rifle to point right at Heartwing’s chest.  “Don’t move.”

“I shall be rooted to the spot,” he declared.  He glanced back at Rarity, and she almost smirked despite the grim circumstances.  In the old days, he would have literally grown roots.

The guard cracked the gate open and slipped inside, shutting it behind him.  The other guard, now alone, looked visibly nervous.  Heartwing, for his part, remained still, only the twitch in his tail betraying his anxious energy.  Rarity opened her mouth, feeling compelled to fill the silence.

“I’m rather sorry for my companion’s rudeness, mister…” Rarity trailed off, and the guard merely lowered his brows at her implied question.  “Well.  Mister Guard.  He’s never quite been one for the social graces.”  The guard harrumphed at her, never taking his eyes fully off Heartwing.  “B-but I suppose if you prefer to wait in silence—”

He did, as it turned out.  She waited, shifting awkwardly from hoof to hoof as she watched through the gate, into the embassy building beyond.  It didn’t take long.

The embassy doors burst open, and five guards, including the one who had left, spilled out.  Each one was a crystal pony, dressed in the same lavender military uniform.  The one in the front carried a set of black iron shackles, complete with a chain and a collar for a pony’s neck.  They charged the gate, and the guard outside opened it for them.

“S-sir Heartwing?” the mare carrying the shackles stepped forward, holding up the restraints.  “Come with us, please.”

“No,” Heartwing said simply.  “No restraints.  No arrest.  Not until I have an arrangement with the ambassador.  Take me to Honeycomb, and then we’ll talk.”  The guards all shared inscrutable looks.  “If it helps, I give my word that I won’t harm any of you.  My word as a Knight.”

“Follow me,” the mare said after a pause.  Heartwing nodded, ignoring the way the other guards crowded in a circle around them.  Rarity couldn’t help but glance worriedly at the martially dressed guards pressing in on either side of her, practically frog-marching them forward into the Embassy.

“I do hope you know what you’re doing, Heartwing,” Rarity muttered as they were escorted through the front doors.  Inside, it was cool enough to make her shiver; the temperature dropped drastically as soon as they crossed the stone threshold of the building.

Heartwing laughed.  “Cooling enchantments?  You all miss the frozen tundra that much, huh?”  The guards ignored him, shoving both of them with shoulders and hooves when it seemed like Heartwing might hesitate.

“Would you relax?” Rarity snapped.  “We’re going where you want.  There’s no need to shove.”  She looked around at the interior, noting the crystalline light fixtures hanging from the ceilings, and built into the stucco walls.  “And what do you mean about that, Heartwing?  Last time I was in the Empire, it wasn’t cold at all.”

“That was before the Empress had to repurpose the Crystal Heart,” Heartwing said as they were led down a long hallway.  Tinted skylights above them let in just enough sunlight to fill the hall, but not enough to provide any real heat.

“Empress?”

“Cadance’s new title.  Well, ‘new’.  She…”

“No talking!” the mare guard leading them growled.  They stopped in front of a wooden door.  “You’ll be waiting in here.  Don’t try to leave; the door will be guarded.”

The room inside was not a jail cell of some sort, as Rarity had originally feared.  Instead, it appeared to be a comfortably furnished conference room, with a wide rectangular table in the center surrounded by plush chairs.  At the head of the table was a large painting of what Rarity recognized as an adult Flurry Heart, though the last time she’d seen her Flurry had still been in diapers.

By the time Rarity glanced away from the portrait, the door was closed behind them, and Heartwing had slumped into one of the larger chairs.  His eyes closed, and he appeared relaxed, though Rarity could see the tension wrinkles along his eyes and his tightly pulled lips.

“So what comes next in this genius plan of yours?” Rarity couldn’t help to keep the contempt out of her voice.

Heartwing let out a long breath.  “Negotiations.  We’ll…” he paused, and one eye opened, pointing towards the door.  “You hear that?”

Rarity cocked an ear.  Indeed, there were sounds of commotion coming from outside the door.  Somepony was arguing with the guards.

“Maybe I should—”

Rarity didn’t get to finish before the door burst open to reveal a crystal pony mare with orange mane and yellow fur, dressed in a sturdy looking travelling skirt.  Behind her was an earth pony stallion, with light green fur and a black short-cut mane, wearing the yellow armor of the Discordant.  The guard outside looked upset and uncomfortable.

“If somepony gives you grief, you can send them to the Princess.  I’m sure she’d be happy to listen to you whine about how I usurped your command, or whatever.”  The mare sounded impatient and dismissive, before turning to Heartwing and Rarity.  Her face lit up with delight and relief.  “Heartwing!  You really are here!  What’s this nonsense I heard about you being arrested?”

The mare didn’t wait for an answer, instead rushing over to hug the rather surprised looking Heartwing.

“T-topaz Glitter?” Heartwing stammered, before returning the hug with a relieved look of his own.  “And Lofty Tale!?”

The stallion Heartwing named Lofty Tale gave the guard a cold look before closing the door behind him, shutting the guard outside.  “You didn’t think we were figments of your dream, did you?”  His voice was a pleasant tenor, with a precise cadence and diction that reminded Rarity of Shining Armor.  His eyes darted to Rarity, then widened, his jaw falling slack.

Lofty Tale.  Rarity swallowed, recognizing the name.  This was the stallion Emberglow had said was chosen by the Element of Generosity.  Her element.  She felt off balance, and at a loss for words.  From the dumbstruck look on his face, so did he.

“I know… Emberglow said you’d be here, but…” he trailed off in a whisper.  “Some things have to be seen to be believed.”

“Lofty,” Topaz eyed him with an amused look.  “Be amazed later.  Business first?”  She turned her head to Heartwing, obviously waiting for an answer for her earlier question.

“I turned myself in to your embassy, hoping to exchange myself for your ponies’ help in getting Terminus and Emberglow from Jubilation’s prison.”

Topaz blinked, then gave a dismayed moan.  “Oh.  Oh my, this is…” She laughed, a sound that didn’t touch her distressed eyes.  “Disaster really does trail in your wake, doesn’t it?  I can fix this.  I hope.”  Finally she glanced over at Rarity, seeming to notice her for the first time.  “Oh!”

“Rarity?” Heartwing said with a wry look.  “Meet Topaz Glitter, the Element of Laughter.  And Lofty Tale, the…” he only hesitated for a second.  “The Element of Generosity.”

“You don’t need to tiptoe around it, darling,” Rarity put on her best, most winning smile, and hoped nopony noticed just how fake it was.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”  She held out her hoof and shook both theirs.  The pair looked relieved that she seemed to be taking things so well.  No need for them to realize just how adrift she felt.  She wished she were in private, anywhere she could pull out the construct and talk to Twilight.  That was at least one thing she still felt anchored to.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Topaz narrowed her eyes at Heartwing.  “Tell us what happened.”

Heartwing stayed calm, somehow, but Rarity thought she could sense the tension and worry in his voice.  He told Topaz everything he could.

“I don’t understand why you came here.”  All four of them were sitting in chairs around the conference table, though none of them looked relaxed.  Topaz rubbed one hoof against another thoughtfully.  “Why does Flurry Heart have an outstanding order to arrest you?”

“Because I am responsible for the death of her aunt,” Heartwing said, his voice low and sad.  Rarity’s whole body tensed.

“You mean… hundreds of years ago?” Topaz shrugged.  “And she still bears a grudge?”  Her voice was incredulous, and the hackles raised on Rarity’s neck.  “That’s… ancient history.”

“I’ll thank you not to speak so dismissively of my best friend,” Rarity hissed, and everypony in the room froze.  She stood so quickly the chair fell backwards.  “Ancient history?”  The fury built in her like a boiling kettle.  “Ancient History?!  I’ll have you know for me, the last time I saw Twilight was just a few months ago!  Maybe Flurry Heart has the right idea!” 

The sounds of her scream faded, and she stared into all three of their stunned, guilty faces.  Topaz looked the worst, and for a second Rarity felt bad for yelling.  But then she felt a cold hoof on her shoulder, and she spun, jerking in surprise.

Behind her was a sight that made her blood run cold.  A pony in a ragged cloak and hood, with a baleful glow in place of its empty eye sockets.  A naked skull stood atop a fleshless body, and its hoof was still extended from where it had touched Rarity. 

Rarity backed away, shrieking in terror, while the creature looked on, its head cocked slightly to the side.  She could hear chairs being shoved away from the conference table, and the pounding of hooves, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the horror.  Suddenly Heartwing and Topaz were in front of her, while Lofty was at the monster’s side.  For some reason, he was holding out a hoof to the creature, muttering something softly.

“Rarity.  Rarity, calm down!  Stop screaming, everything is okay!” Topaz said frantically, waving a hoof in front of both her and Heartwing.  “It’s Starlight.  Starlight Glimmer!”

Rarity gaped.  Starlight?  No.  No, it wasn’t possible.  This… thing?  This macabre mannequin of bleached bone and rags?  There was nothing left of her, no flesh or fur, no mane.

Dimly, in the distance, she realized ponies were still talking.  The door was open, and several guards had flooded into the room.  There were angry voices, placating voices, desperate voices.  Flashing colors as ponies moved quickly and determinedly about the room.  All of it faded into mere background noise as Rarity and the creature met eyes and stared at each other.

In their distraction, nopony noticed as Rarity began to walk forward, one hoofstep at a time, while the creature started to shake and tremble, then shrink away until it was sitting on its haunches.

“It’s my fault,” the creature whispered.  No, that was wrong.  It was Starlight’s voice.  Rarity had spoken to her just a few months ago, before…

Before.

“What’s your fault, darling?” Rarity asked gently.  She lifted her hoof, suddenly no longer afraid of Starlight’s fearsome appearance.  Where before, Starlight’s eyes had appeared baleful and ominous, now the blue glow reminded Rarity of the light of Starlight’s horn.  The severed stump where that appendage used to be filled Rarity with an aching sort of compassion, and it drowned out all of her disgust and terror.

“I don’t remember.”  Starlight shook her head.  “I don’t remember, but it’s my fault.  My fault.  My fault.”  She sunk so low that her ribcage was on the floor, her empty eye sockets pressed down so that the top of her hood hid her head.  Rarity could hear her still muttering the two words, over and over, while her cloaked form trembled and shook.

“Darling, please, get up,” Rarity touched Starlight’s face, feeling the rough cloth and the hard bone underneath.  “There’s no need for any of this.  I forgive you.”  Suddenly she realized that the rest of the room had gone silent.  Everypony was staring at them.

“But how can you forgive me when I don’t even remember what I did?!” Starlight still didn’t raise her head.

“Starlight?” The new stallion, Lofty, spoke into the silence that followed.  Rarity glanced his way, noting the way his eyes filled with empathy.  “Where is True?”  At Rarity’s quizzical expression, he smiled.  “True is my son.  Starlight seems to remember more things when she’s around him.  I don’t know why.”

“True is…” Finally, Starlight looked up, glancing at Lofty.  “Sleeping.  He’s having a nap, in your quarters.”  Starlight spoke with hesitation, the words coming in spurts as if she had to consider each and every phrase.  Slowly she stood, rising on her hooves until she could meet Rarity’s eyes.  There seemed to be no hint of her earlier cowering.  Instead, she cocked her head slightly to the side in a curious expression.  “Do I know you?”

“This is Rarity, Starlight,” Lofty offered, with the patience one might take with a small foal.  Or perhaps a pony with memory loss.  “You remember Rarity, right?”

“I…” Starlight paused, glancing about the room.  “I don’t remember any…”  The lights in her eyes flickered, as if she were blinking.  “Wait…”

“Topaz?” Lofty called.  “I’d like to go check on True.  Do you mind if I take Rarity and Starlight with me?”  Rarity liked the idea; watching Starlight stumble to remember hurt, and if Lofty was right, being around his son somehow helped Starlight’s memory.

The rest of the room appeared to have calmed down, Heartwing now engaged in a low conversation with Topaz, while several guards stood by, nervously watching them.  Topaz glanced over at Lofty’s question with a strained smile.  “That’s a great plan, Lofty.  Heartwing and I have to go have a chat with the ambassador.  We might be a bit.”

“Not too long, I hope,” Rarity said.  “Our friends are locked away in some prison, after all.”

“We’ll get them out, Rarity,” Heartwing said.


*   *   *   *   *


            	Lofty led Rarity through the halls of the embassy, with Starlight trailing behind her.  Rarity kept looking back behind her at the strange, skeletal mare.  A billion questions buzzed in her head, each one with its own little barb of frustration; there was no way Starlight would even remember enough to answer any of them.

            	The Knight in front of her was just as frustrating, though for different reasons.  He seemed kind and noble, and would probably answer any questions she posed.  But Rarity wasn’t sure she wanted to ask.  She’d thought she’d caught a glimpse of a golden torc beneath the gambeson he wore under his armor, and Rarity wasn’t quite sure she was ready to think about that too hard.

            	The embassy was not empty; there were crystal ponies moving about, as well as zebra staff.  Several gave them curious looks as she passed, but Rarity never saw the glint of recognition that she’d grown used to the past few months.  In a way, it was welcome; she knew at least somewhere in the world there were ponies that looked at her and didn’t immediately think of Saint Rarity.

            	“The embassy has a guest wing, with a few different temporary apartments for visiting dignitaries and such,” Lofty explained as they moved through the hallways.  “Topaz and I have been staying there the last two days, along with True, Starlight, and another friend.  How long have you all been in town?”

            	“We snuck in just this morning,” Rarity said.  She shuddered a bit to remember that journey.  “We began searching for some friends, only to find they had befallen tragedy, and that Emberglow and Terminus had been taken.”

            	“I’m sure Topaz and Heartwing will come up with something,” Lofty said.  Rarity was certain he was trying to sound reassuring, but she could hear the worry in his voice, too.

            	“You’re one of her oldest friends, aren’t you?” she asked.  Lofty nodded.  “Emberglow speaks highly of you.”

            	“Thank you.”  Lofty bowed graciously.

            	They stopped in front of a wooden door, and Lofty reached out and pushed the door open as gently as possible.  He poked his head just inside, then retreated to smile at Rarity, and Starlight behind her.  “Looks like he woke up.  Miss Rarity, would you like to meet my son?”

            	Lofty opened the door the rest of the way to reveal a furnished suite, with two beds, a desk, and a brunch table.  Two ponies sat at the table: a pegasus stallion and a tiny earth pony colt.  The pegasus had brown fur and a red mane and was helping the foal with the rainbow explosion of crayons that littered the table.  He looked up at them and waved as they approached.

            	“Rarity, this is my friend, Escher.  Escher, you’ll have heard of Rarity, of course.”  Escher nodded a greeting, but it wasn’t the usual star-struck look she was used to.  Lofty pointed to the colt.  “And this is my son.”

            	The colt’s face was screwed up in an adorable look of intense concentration, the tip of his tongue sticking out as he scribbled with a bright yellow crayon on a sheet of paper already covered with foal scrawling.  He glanced up as soon as Lofty and Rarity entered the room, with Starlight close behind them.

            	“Hi Daddy!  Hi Star!” he waved cheerfully, before noticing the new pony.  He stared at her with the unbridled curiosity of the young.  “Who’re you?”

            	“Why hello there, young colt,” Rarity stepped up towards the table.  “My name is Rarity.  What’s yours?”

            	“True Tale!” he chirped cheerfully.  “Wanna see my picture?”

            	“I would love to see your picture!” Rarity cooed and glanced down.  Like all foals, True’s art skills were questionable at best, but it was clear to see the deck of a sailing ship.  Lofty and Topaz stood at the back, while True and a skeletal pony were at the prow, fighting off what appeared to be some sort of sea serpent.  “Ooh, that’s lovely, darling!  That’s your father, and Topaz, and you and Starlight!”  She pointed to each in turn.  “You were on a ship to get here?”

            	“Yup!”

            	“And did you fight sea serpents?”

            	“Uh… that part’s made up.  But whales!”

            	“We saw several pods of whales,” Lofty supplied.

            	“Looks like you’re going to be a brave Knight, just like your father,” Rarity said.

            	True nodded.  “And Star!  Star’s brave too!”

            	“She is.  Sometime I’ll tell you the story of how she helped save me and my friends from an evil changeling queen.”  She watched as his eyes lit up.

            	“You did?” he glanced at Starlight, who cocked her head to the side in confusion.

            	“I… maybe?”

            	“Star can’t remember stuff,” True said.

            	“I remember more when I’m around you, though,” Starlight said.  Rarity met Lofty’s eyes, and the Knight nodded.  “I don’t know why.”

            	“True?” Rarity asked.  “I’m going to ask Starlight some questions.  Can you stay, so that she can remember better?  You can keep drawing if you want.”

            	“Yup!” True flipped the paper over again and picked up a brown crayon.  “Gonna draw Esser.”

            	It was fascinating how quickly True became absorbed in his task.  Escher met eyes with Rarity, and then leaned over to assist True.  She got the message; he was going to keep the foal occupied so she could have her chat with Starlight.

            	“Starlight?  Do you remember more, now?”  Rarity inched closer, scanning the skeletal face for any hint of recognition.

            	“It helps if you ask specific questions,” Lofty offered.  “And don’t expect too much.”

            	“Starlight?  Do you know who I am?” she asked.  Starlight was silent, staring back at her.  Rarity waited, daring to hope.  The time ticked on, accompanied only by the sound of True’s crayons dragging against the paper.  “Starlight, it’s me, Rarity.”

            	“Rarity?” Starlight suddenly jerked forward quickly enough that Rarity flinched, but she was only reaching out her hoof to Rarity’s face.  She steeled herself to stillness, feeling Starlight’s hoof tickling along the fur of her cheek.  “Rarity.  RARITY!?”

            	With a wail, Starlight collapsed to the floor, whimpering and sobbing, her face buried against the floor.  It was just like before, in the conference room.  Only this time, she was repeating Rarity’s name over and over.

            	“Starlight, darling.  I said I forgave you.  Would you please stand up, so we can talk?”

            	“Rarity, it’s you,” Starlight said as she pulled herself up.  “It’s really you.  I looked.  For years, I looked.  I did… this… to myself.”

            	“You didn’t have to go that far.”

            	“But it was my fault!  If I hadn’t…”

            	“Hush, darling.  I don’t want to hear any more talk of blame.”  Rarity patted her on the shoulder.  “What we need to be worried about now is moving forward.”

            	“Princess Cadance and Princess Luna both want you to find rest, Starlight,” Lofty added.

            	“Rest?” Starlight’s voice was full of so much longing that Rarity almost wept for her.  “I’m so tired.”

            	“What would that take, darling?”

            	“I…” She went silent, the light in her eyes fading for a few moments, long enough that Rarity thought something was wrong.  “There was a book.  A journal.  I kept it in… in your place, in Canterlot.  I found it.  Your boutique.”  She said each sentence as if she were realizing it for the first time.  Her eyes brightened as she spoke.  “I was there for a long time.  A very long time.

            	“You!” she suddenly gasped, then pointed at Lofty.  “You came!  With… with somepony else!  A mare!  But you ran away!”  She was bouncing up and down on her hooves.  “I’m remembering things!  How am I remembering things?!”

            	“That was Emberglow and I,” Lofty said.  “We were squires, and we got lost trespassing in the ruins of Old Canterlot.  At the time, I thought I was being led by Princess Luna.  I’m sorry I ran, Starlight.”

            	“But you came back!  You came back, and now I can…”  She began desperately glancing around herself.  “The book!  My journal!  Where is it?”

            	“I have it with my luggage, Starlight.  One moment.”  Lofty moved over to one of the beds, where a set of saddlebags rested against the foot of the bed.  He pulled out an ancient looking journal and brought it over.  “Here.”

            	“Thank you.  I’ll just…” Starlight began, cocking her head to the side.  “Wait, why isn’t…”

            	“Starlight,” Rarity said.  “Did you forget about your horn?”

            	“My horn?  Oh!”  Starlight reached up, touching the stump.  “Oh.  I… there were ponies.  Dressed in white armor.  I acted like I was dead?  I think?  But they still took my horn.”

            	“White armor would be the Knights Radiant,” Lofty said.  “The order that…”

            	“Yes, I know all about it,” Rarity interrupted.  “Please, darling.  What’s in the journal?”

            	“Spell research,” Starlight said.  “I was working on several different things.  Before I couldn’t remember what I was working on any longer.”

            	“May I look, Starlight?” Rarity asked, and Starlight nodded.  She took the book in her own magic and began to flip through the pages.  “These are notes on the spell you altered.  The one that gave up your memories, in exchange for life.”

            	“I had to,” Starlight whimpered.  “It was my fault you were missing.  It’s my fault she’s dead.”

            	Lofty and Rarity both froze, staring at her.  “She?  Who’s she?”

            	“Sunset Shimmer.  But I was working on that, too.”  Starlight reached out and flipped towards the middle of the journal.  “See?”

            	Rarity scanned the pages.  The work she’d been doing with Twilight had given her a crash course in sorcerous notation and magical theory.  Much of the notes were beyond her, but she was able to catch the general gist.

            	Starlight was trying to recreate her time travel spell.  But without the map room to use as a magical focus, she was attempting to adapt the spell to use something else.

            	“Starlight…” Rarity gasped in horror, her mind buzzing as her eyes darted about the page.  “How could you even consider…”

            	“If it worked, Rarity,” Starlight pleaded.  “If it worked, Sunset would be back.  She would be saved.  And I… I would be gone.”  Her voice caressed the last word with loving longing.  “Please, Rarity.  Help me with this spell.”

            	Starlight’s end.  Starlight’s rest.  That’s what they wanted, right?  And how was using her own life, her own soul, as a catalyst for a time travel spell any different than what she’d already done?

            	Would it hurt just to help?

            	“I’ll do what I can, darling.  But I want you to promise me you won’t cast it without asking me first.”

            	“Okay.”  Starlight held out her hoof.  “Can I see the book?”

            	“One moment, darling.  There’s another spell.  It takes up nearly the entire second half of the book.”

            	“Rarity…” Starlight’s voice pleaded.  “I don’t want you to see…”

            	But she had to know, now.  Everything in the journal was a wretched, twisted thing Starlight had done to herself, to scourge herself with her own guilt.  The third spell was no different.

            	“A tantabus,” Rarity breathed, when she realized what Starlight had created.  “You recreated a tantabus.”

            	“A tantabus!” Lofty recoiled, hissing with horror.

            	Rarity slammed the book shut with disgust.  “Starlight, why would you do this to yourself?”

            	“You know why,” Starlight hissed.  “It’s all my fault.  I deserved—"

            	“Nopony deserves any of this,” Rarity interrupted.  “Nopony deserves a tantabus.  Nopony deserves to lose what you gave up.”

            	“Then help me end it,” Starlight begged.  “Help me finish the spell.  Help me save Sunset.”

            	“I will, darling,” Rarity touched her once more.  “But we may have a bigger problem.  What happened to the tantabus?”

            	“I don’t dream any longer,” Starlight said.  “Not since the ponies in white armor took my horn.  I don’t know where the tantabus is.”

            	“We should ask Emberglow, once we get her free,” Lofty offered.  “She may know more.”

            	Rarity nodded, but she was still worried.  There was a tantabus out there, loose in the world.  Possibly torturing innocent ponies.  And there was nothing she could do about it.  She huffed in frustration.

            	“We should check on Heartwing and Topaz,” Rarity said finally.  “There’s nothing we can do about the tantabus for now.”  It aggravated her, but it was true.  She’d have to read the journal.  Twilight would have been proud; more spellwork to study.  She was becoming a regular scholar.


*   *   *   *   *


            	“Good news, everypony.  I’ve been granted the privilege of subjecting myself to arrest, extradition, and trial!”  Heartwing’s voice was gratingly cheerful when Rarity and Lofty finally rejoined Topaz and Heartwing in the conference room.  There were several other ponies in the room: two guards, standing nervously at either side of Heartwing as he sat in his conference chair, and an older crystal pony mare, dressed in fine robes. 

Starlight had disappeared, along with that worrisome journal.  Rarity didn’t want to think about what she might be doing.  But she didn’t want to be here, with Heartwing, either.  Something about his flippancy made her want to scream.  He was guilty of what Princess Flurry wanted him arrested for.  He didn’t have the right to joke about it.

            	“What sort of arrangement did you make?” Rarity asked.

            	“Well, they’re fetching the manacles as we speak.  Apparently my word as a Knight was not enough for the honorable Ambassador Honeycomb.”

            	“The fugitive creature known as ‘Heartwing’ has a reputation for deception and escape artistry.  We will not be taking chances.”  The ambassador was a yellow furred crystal mare with a honey colored mane.

            	“In the meantime, these two intrepid young soldiers have promised to split me with their spears if I so much as wiggle.”

            	“That’s all well and good, Heartwing.”  Rarity actually had to suppress the urge to say ‘darling’.  She wasn’t quite feeling like he deserved it.  “But I didn’t hear where in this arrangement we get Emberglow and Terminus out of Jubilation custody?”

            	“Princess Flurry Heart has never conceded to the legitimacy of the Diarchy or it’s government,” Ambassador Honeycomb said.  “As such, the only legally recognized government of Equestria is the expatriate government-in-exile of ponies living in the Empire, led by President Buck Stop.”

            	“They’ve also never recognized the legitimacy of the Knights Discordant,” Heartwing explained cheerfully.  “Though they’ve never really bothered to oppose us.  Technically, though, that means we’re committing crimes of vigilantism against the government-in-exile.”

            	“So…” Rarity needed him to get to the point.

            	“So we’re all going to be extradited as criminals!”

            	‘Heartwing!” Rarity shrieked, slamming her hooves on the table loud enough that the guards jumped.  “I don’t see how that’s going to help Emberglow or Terminus!  They’ll be trading a Jubilation cell for one in the Crystal Empire!”

            	“While that would be a step up, Miss, I can assure you that Sir Terminus and Lady Emberglow will not see the inside of an Empire prison,” the ambassador said.  “Vigilantism is a minor misdemeanor.  I don’t think there’s a single case of a Knight Discordant being actually prosecuted.  But it’s still on the books, and we have an extradition treaty with Jubilation.”

            	“The Diarchy does not have an extradition treaty with Jubilation,” Heartwing noted helpfully.  “Which means all extraditions will have to be negotiated on a case-by-case basis.  To date, none have been granted.”

            	“So this all comes down to some sort of… legal fight?” Rarity was incredulous.

            	“I have already rushed my team of lawyers down to the Jubilation Treaty Hall.  They’ll stall any attempt by Diarchy personnel to extradite your friends.  Then we spirit you all to a ship heading to the Empire before the Diarchy Knights can get a formal complaint through the courts.”

            	“But what about…” Rarity paused, glancing about the room.  There were guards, and the ambassador.

            	“The Element of Harmony?” Heartwing said, ignoring the shocked looks on the ambassador and the guards.  “We may have to take a loss on this one.  For now.”

            	“You mean retreat?  Give up?” It turned Rarity’s stomach.

            	“I’d give up a thousand Elements of Magic if it meant getting Terminus free,” Heartwing said, and for a moment Rarity was unpleasantly reminded of the Element he now bore.  She brushed it from her thoughts.

            	“Excuse me, but… what are you talking about?” Ambassador Honeycomb asked.

            	Heartwing and Rarity shared a long look, and Heartwing shrugged.  So.  He was going to leave the decision in her court, as it were?  Very well.

            	“The Elements of Harmony are why we’re here in Jubilation.  Our quest is to find them and bring them together.  The last one still lost is the Element of Magic.  We believe it’s close to Jubilation somewhere.  The treasure mentioned in the ‘Last Flight of Captain Celeano’.”

            	“That old wife’s tale?” The ambassador snorted.  “You know that’s just a foal’s fantasy.”

            	“We think maybe not,” Rarity said.  “And we think the Diarchy knows it too.  They’ve been building an outpost of some sort on one of the barrier islands off the coast, haven’t they?”  That was what Willow had said.  “One of our Knights was killed.  Another, a young squire, got his horn chopped off trying to investigate.”

            	“He did?” Ambassador Honeycomb looked ill.  “The Knight is one thing.  I’m afraid the zebras will see it as a casualty in the ongoing conflict between your two… groups.  But maiming a prisoner like that?  I’m… I’m so sorry.  I’ll see what my own intelligence ponies know.”

            	“You mean your changelings,” Heartwing said, and the ambassador scowled at him.  “What?  It’s not like it was a secret from me.”

            	“Yes, we’ll have changeling agents look into it while you go collect your friends from the Treaty Hall.”  She shook her head.  “You may not believe me, but it is my job to represent all the citizens of the Empire.  Including Diarchy expatriates here in Jubilation.  We know most of them are citizens of the Free Zebra Republic, now, but an insult to them is an insult to us.  Cutting off the horn…” she shuddered.  “We’ll do what we can to make things right.  As much as possible.”

            	The colt was missing his horn.  Nothing would make that better.  But a small part of her was grateful for the sentiment anyway.

            	“Topaz and Sir Lofty will handle the transportation of the prisoners.  Heartwing will stay here, under guard,” Ambassador Honeycomb said.

            	“I insist on going with,” Rarity said.  The ambassador looked like she was about to protest, but Topaz nodded.  “I remember what Emberglow looked like when I rescued her from the Diarchy last time.  I need to be there to help her this time, as well.”

            	“I will keep them both safe, if that’s your concern,” Lofty offered.  Ambassador Honeycomb nodded.

            	“I want it understood, Sir Lofty.  In this matter you are representing the Crystal Empire.  You will probably come in contact with Diarchy Knights.  You are not to speak to them.  You are not to engage them, except in defense of your life, or Rarity’s, or Duchess Topaz’.”

            	“D-duchess?” Topaz’ jaw gaped.

            	“I thought you knew,” Ambassador Honeycomb raised an eyebrow at Topaz.  “Princess Flurry Heart recently sent a memo to all the Embassies.  Your family’s noble title has been reinstated.  You’re a Duchess, my lady.”

            	“Huh.”  Topaz blinked a few times, then giggled.  “Well, let’s see just how far my royal authority can get us in Jubilation.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	Rarity was beginning to hate this city.

            	Jubilation, when she first arrived, had been a mélange of sights and sounds and smells, an exotic vacation, even.  Now, as every step brought the three ponies closer to the Treaty Hall, she was growing increasingly furious.

            	“I can’t believe we’re even in this situation,” she groused, possibly for the thousandth time while Topaz nodded patiently.  “I thought the zebras were supposed to be on the side of good.”

            	“Is everything ever that simple?” Topaz mused, and Rarity huffed.  “Well, consider this.  Zebras here, even the ponies here, are far removed from the nightmare going on in Equestria.  They have no frame of reference for how bad things are.  So when the Diarchy comes, and offers sweet promises of prosperity and peace, it’s easy to see how some lose sight of the suffering.”

            	“But isn’t there a guerrilla war going on out there?” Rarity waved her hoof vaguely beyond the walls.

            	“For most of the Free Zebra Republic, yes.  The Diarchy has always steered fairly clear of Jubilation, though.”  Lofty gave her a weird look.  “What?  I’ve been brushing up on local politics ever since I became a junior ambassador.  It seemed important.”

            	“Okay then, so maybe you can explain why Jubilation is the exception,” Rarity said.

            	“It's the same reason the government building is called the Treaty Hall.  Ages ago, the zebras were basically a very loose confederation of tribes.  They weren’t at war or anything, but each group was largely self-sufficient.  When the Diarchy began trying to nose in on zebra lands, they decided to present a more unified front.  The confederation of tribes met in this spot here, to form a Republic.

            	“Originally Jubilation was just supposed to be the council meeting place, where the elected representatives of each zebra band gathered to make decisions.  But a whole town sprang up around their meeting place, the ‘Treaty Hall’.  Now it’s more-or-less the center of the Republic.  That’s why the embassies are all here; from the Crystal Empire, the Griffons, even the Diarchy.”

            	“If the council is made up of representatives from tribes that are still fighting out there, why would they even consider a closer relationship with the Diarchy?” Rarity asked.

            	“Apparently that’s not the Council of the Republic itself, but rather the City Council of Jubilation.  The Council of the Republic usually doesn’t get involved in how the city runs itself, as long as they don't get too out of hand.”  Topaz pursed her lips thoughtfully.  “Ambassador Honeycomb doesn’t think they’ll stay silent about what the City Council is doing for long, though.  But by the time they weigh in, it’ll be too late for us.”

            	“So we have to get them out today.”

            	“That’s the goal,” Topaz nodded.  “Don’t worry, Rarity.  They’ll be safe soon, I promise.”

            	Rarity bit back an angry response.  There was no way Topaz could really promise such a thing; with how everything seemed to go wrong all at once, how could she know?  Rarity kept her dark thoughts to herself, though, as they rushed through the streets towards the Treaty Hall.

            	The building was the grandest Rarity had seen yet in Jubilation.  It was shaped in a giant curve, like a horseshoe, with a central courtyard filled with bright and lively greenery.  On top of the courtyard was a pointed dome, made up of metal struts that reached from the surrounding building.  At the top of the point, a statue of a majestic looking zebra stood, looking out over the city.

            	The walls of the building were made of reflective glass, and they tilted outwards, with a roof that extended far enough over the windows to provide shade.

            	The whole complex was also surrounded by a high wall, with a security gate at the front.  Zebra Republic guards in uniforms stood at attention at the gate, eyeing Lofty and his armor with suspicion as he approached.  One of them opened his mouth to challenge the three, but Topaz beat him to it.

            	“Good day, sirs.  My name is Ambassador Topaz Glitter, of the Crystal Empire.  I am aware that several of my government’s legal representatives are inside, arranging the extradition of two prisoners into our custody.  I require entry so that I may confer with them.”  She fished a folder of documents out of her saddlebags.  “Here is my documentation and identity papers.  These other two are my companions.  Their own paperwork is in here as well.”

            	“Your… companion, Lady Ambassador, is, well, dressed in…”

            	“I have hired this mercenary as my bodyguard.  The Empire is allowed, by our treaty with Jubilation, to have security forces under arms.  He’s working for me, and therefore is not breaking any of Jubilation’s weapons laws.”  Ambassador Honeycomb had been very helpful filling them in on the relevant policies.

            	“Okay, um, wait here, Ambassador.  We’ll get you visitor’s passes.”

            	The guard slipped into the small guardhouse adjacent to the gate, emerging with three badges on lanyards.  He handed them to each of the ponies, and Rarity slipped hers on.

            	“I’ll have to ask you to leave all weapons here, at the gate,” he said.  Lofty shrugged.  He’d brought none.  “The Treaty Hall is strictly neutral ground for all conflicts and feuds.  It is a violation of Republic law to attack or assault another within our walls.  Obviously any violations will be responded to quickly and without quarter.”

            	“If my charges are attacked, I will defend them,” Lofty noted.

            	The guard nodded.  “You are allowed that right, if attacked first.”

            	“Good.  You have my word I will start nothing.”

            	The zebra guard hesitated for a moment at that, but then ignored it.  “Follow me.  I will show you to your legal team.  They are currently meeting with Representatives Boghani and Coconut Milk.”

            	“Actually…” Topaz said.  “Can we be shown first to the prisoners in question?  While I do have a political interest in their release, I am also a doctor, and am currently treating one of the prisoners.  I wish to check on their wellbeing.”

            	“You’re a doctor?”

            	“Yes, a psychologist.  I’ve been treating the prisoner named Emberglow for months now, for issues stemming from post-traumatic stress and torture she received at the hooves of the Diarchy.”

            	One of the guards looked a little suspicious, but the other smiled sympathetically.  “Of course.  The prisoners are safe in our care, but I’ll let you see for yourself.”

            	“Safe until your government tosses them right back into the hooves of the same ponies that tortured her, you mean,” Rarity couldn’t help but mutter.  The guard glanced sharply at her, as Topaz hushed her with a hoof.  “Sorry.”  She wasn’t.

            	“This way, please,” the guard said, gesturing with his hoof as the other guard unlocked the gate and pushed it open.  They followed, with Lofty in front and Rarity bringing up the rear.  She could see his face darting this way and that, scanning the lush grounds for any hints of a threat.

            	“Pardon me, but I couldn’t help but wonder,” Rarity called out, loud enough for the guard up front to hear.  “This doesn’t seem to be the kind of place to house prisoners.”

            	“We don’t, usually,” he called back.  “Only foreign nationals awaiting extradition.”

            	“I see.”  The fact that Emberglow and Terminus were already being given some sort of special treatment made her nervous.  She wished they would move faster.

            	They approached the building itself, heading not for the grand front doors but towards the inside of the central courtyard.  Rarity couldn’t help but stare in awe at the colorful array of plants, with bright green leaves reaching tall overhead, just underneath the pointed metal dome.  It was surprisingly cool; the trees provided plenty of shade.  There were water features everywhere, little natural-looking fountains where brightly colored birds stopped and drank.

            	“I must say, your building is quite lovely,” she said.  “I wish I were here under better circumstances.”

            	“Perhaps your travels will bring you back, someday,” the guard said.

            	“I hope they do.”

            	The path ended in a door, much smaller than the front entrance.  It was also under guard, but the soldier standing there simply opened the door for them.

            	Inside was a single desk with an official-looking zebra sitting behind it, wearing glasses and scratching away with a quill on a pile of bureaucratic paperwork in front of him.  He glanced up as they all filed into the room, his eyes widening with shock.

            	“Who is this?” he asked, sounding annoyed.

            	“Ambassador Topaz Glitter of the Crystal Empire wishes to see the prisoners below.  The rebel Knights from the Diarchy.”

            	“T-that is quite impossible at the moment,” the bureaucrat stammered.  “You see, the prisoners are already being interviewed by… um…”

            	“The ambassador is also a doctor treating one of the prisoners.  She has demanded the right to check on her well-being.”

            	“Th-that may be so, but I d-don’t think…”

            	“I believe denying a prisoner access to medical care is a violation of her rights,” Topaz said casually.  “Is there a good reason I can’t go see my patient?”

            	“W-well, that is…”

            	The guard who had escorted them narrowed his eyes.  “It seems some of my coworkers don’t know the law.  I will show you down, but you must again promise to keep the peace.”

            	Rarity felt a growing sense of dread.  Something was very wrong.  At least the guard seemed to be on their side.  She and Lofty both nodded.

            	“Meanwhile, you,” the guard pointed at the bureaucrat.  “Go find the Crystal Embassy lawyers and inform them that Ambassador Topaz is here.   You should find them in Representative Boghani’s office.”

            	“But…”

            	“Go, or I shall inform your superiors that you allowed Diarchy personnel to interrogate prisoners under our custody.”  Rarity’s worst fears were confirmed when the bureaucrat cringed and stood up and rushed out of the room.  The guard looked back at them.  “I am sorry about this.  I don’t understand how some of my fellow zebras can so easily forget what they are.”  There was no need to say which they he was talking about.  “Follow me.  Keep the peace.”

            	Behind the bureaucrat’s desk was another locked metal grate, which the guard opened with a key pulled out of his uniform.  He then led the party down a staircase, leading into a dark, cool basement. 

            	Rarity could hear voices from below.  She was in the back of the line, and part of her wanted to dart ahead, to rush down and ensure her friends were safe, but the hallway was narrow and the guard was taking a too-slow pace.  Rarity was practically dancing with impatience by the time the stairway opened into a wide room.  It was another guard post, with another locked grate and an uncomfortable looking zebra speaking with a mare that Rarity recognized.  It was the Knight wearing white armor, the tall, elegant beauty that they had encountered the last time they were in Jubilation.  Mercy Song, Rarity remembered.

            	Mercy stood up, looking angry and alarmed as the four of them entered the room, but then something passed over her face and she let out a moan of dismay.

            	“Lofty… no…” she whimpered.  “Could this nightmare be any more complete?”

            	“M-mercy?” Lofty gasped.  “What are you doing here?”

            	“Me?  What are you doing here?  And in that armor?!”  Both guards, the new one and the one who had guided them down, slowly maneuvered so they would be ready to spring between the two Knights, if they had to.

            	“That is irrelevant,” Topaz interjected, with an apologetic look back at Lofty.  “Miss Knight, you are here illegally.  The Free Zebra Republic and the city government of Jubilation have no extradition treaty with the Diarchy.  You are interfering with my prisoners, and I insist you leave immediately.”

            	“Your prisoners?  Who the buck are you?” Mercy snarled.

            	Topaz brought herself up tall and proud.  “I am Duchess Topaz Glitter of the Crystal Empire, ambassador to the Diarchy.  As we speak, our legal team is negotiating for the release of these prisoners into my custody, which I assure you will be granted.  Now leave immediately, or I will have these good guards toss you out.”

            	Mercy stepped forward threateningly, but Lofty jerked in between them.

            	“Don’t try it, Lady Mercy,” Lofty whispered threateningly.  “Harm a hair on this mare and I will put you down, hard.”  The menace in his voice sent a shiver down Rarity’s spine, and perhaps a hint of jealousy.  Wouldn’t it be lovely to have somepony be that protective of her?

            	For a moment, she remembered the way Emberglow had jumped stalwartly in front of her, back in the cave with Mlinzi.  It sent another shiver down her spine, this one much… warmer.  She needed to get Emberglow out of this place, and fast.

            	In the silence that followed Lofty’s threat, they could hear angry voices coming from behind the second metal grate.  Topaz’ eyes widened, and she was shaking with fury.  “Wait… is there another Knight in there?  With the prisoners?”

            	“Brightblade is just…”

            	“Brightblade?” Topaz hissed.  Rarity’s own fury boiled.  So Emberglow had shared the name of her tormentor with her therapist.  “You sent a prisoner’s torturer in to interrogate her?  My embassy will hear of this… violation.  I demand you go and stop this interrogation immediately.”

            	The guard that had been there already stared, shocked, at Topaz.  Their escort eyed him angrily and nodded, and he gulped, turning to unlock the grate.  He rushed inside, and they heard angry shouting and arguments. 

            	The ponies left in the room stared at each other, tense and nervous.  Mercy Song looked like she’d been struck; every time her eyes rested on Lofty she flinched.  Rarity tried to strain her ears to hear the terse, whispered argument from the room beyond, but she couldn’t make out any words.  But then the guard cried out in pain, and they heard a loud thud.

            	Lofty and the guard who had escorted them dashed towards the opening.  Mercy Song also sprung into action, trying to follow.  Topaz was frozen to the spot.

            	Rarity’s horn glowed, her magic surging within her like an electric pulse as she cast on pure instinct and panic.  A glowing wall of force, filling the room with blue light, burst into reality between Mercy Song and the other ponies.  It was thicker than any shield Rarity had cast before, more solid, and it glittered with intensity. 

In the moment of frozen time that followed, Rarity was reminded of something she’d read out of Twilight’s training book.

            	True unicorn spellwork is a combination of study and practical effort.  One can read everything in the world about Teleportation, for example, but never be able to cast it until they practice.  But sometimes, in a moment of stress or impulse, a unicorn familiar with the spell can force it to take shape with mere impulse and instinct.  It requires tremendous power, and perhaps a little luck.  It’s how I learned to Teleport the first time.

            	She barely managed to hold on to the spell through her shock.  She’d been reading Twilight’s book for weeks.  She’d practiced spells, worked on increasing her control, but she’d never been able to manage anything even a quarter this powerful before.  She felt alive, crackling with power, as much as she had when Twilight’s enchanted book had seized her and filled her with power before.  It was barely any effort to maintain the spell.

            	“Go!” she shouted to the others, who had frozen to stare.  “Take care of her companion.  I shall hold her here!”  Rarity felt a rush of adrenaline as she spoke, a giddy sort of sensation.  She felt like a hero, and had to hold back the urge to laugh.

            	Lofty and the guard both rushed into the room beyond the open grate, while Topaz followed close on their hooves.  It left Mercy and her alone in the guard room.

            	“You will not harm her anymore, you harridan!” Rarity snarled, pouring magic into her horn.  The flat wall of the shield pressed backwards, against the Knight, forcing her to retreat.   A look of panic crossed Mercy’s face, and she raised her gauntlet and began casting.

            	Rarity didn’t know the runes she was drawing, but as she felt them taking shape she could feel the sensation of something fighting her spellwork.  It was like a pressure, something at the edges of her shield, trying to dissolve and unravel it at the edges.  It was a counterspell.

            	“I don’t think so,” Rarity snarled.  Even as her shield began to crack, she began another spell herself.  She was reminded of the time a young Twilight had struggled against an Ursa Minor; the way the unicorn’s horn had flared with effort as she sustained several strands of magic at once.  She remembered thinking, at the time, that she’d never be able to manage such multitasking.  Her horn blazed as she reached out with the second spell: a telekinesis spell.  She lifted a chair, probably the guard’s, tossing it through the air at Mercy.

            	The Knight dodged, and the chair shattered into splinters of wood, clattering against the stone.  But Rarity was not finished.  She felt the beads of sweat tickling at her brow, but she ignored them, picking up a dozen pieces of the broken chair in her magical grip as she battered against the Knight.

            	Mercy Song dodged and parried, grunting in pain each time a piece of wooden shrapnel slipped through her guard to gouge at her flesh.  But Rarity was relentless, driving Mercy back towards the stairs.  She retreated slowly, grunting and flinching as she raised her gauntlet one more time, forming another spell.  This time, it was a summoning spell, creating a blade of crackling energy along the forehoof that did not hold the gauntlet.

            	“You disgrace my legacy with that armor,” Rarity growled, even as Mercy began to pummel at the shield with her glowing weapon.  “How dare you wear that, and cause such harm to ponies?  How dare you take my name and hurt those I care about?  HOW DARE YOU!”  Rage flowed into Rarity’s magic, but no matter how much power she poured into the shield spell, the construct itself was beginning to come apart due to Mercy’s counterspell.  So she let it fail, shattering into a billion motes of cerulean light.

            	Mercy wasted no time taking advantage, dashing towards Rarity with her lethal blade leading.  But Rarity was ready.  She dropped her makeshift storm of weaponized shrapnel and instead gripped something else instead: Mercy Song’s bladed hoof.

            	It was much harder than Rarity had expected; some kind of enchantment fought her grip.  She’d been told that Knight armor was full of all sorts of mystical protections; perhaps one of them was simply to prevent a Knight from being picked up and tossed around.  But the resistance was no match for Rarity’s newfound power, and she felt her telekinetic grip snap through the resistance.

            	There was an audible pop, and Mercy Song was lifted into the air.  She screamed in pain as she dangled below her own suspended hoof, thrashing about in Rarity’s magical grip.

            	“The next time I see you, darling, I expect you to have removed that abominable lie.  You absolutely do not have permission to claim my name or my blessing as you go about your foul work.  Now, begone from here, and leave Emberglow alone!”  With one last mighty surge of her magic she tossed Mercy Song back towards the stairs, once again wrenching past the backlash of the armor’s enchantments.  Mercy hit the stairs with another scream and a sickening crack of bone, and Rarity realized that her forehoof, the one she’d held, was twisted unnaturally.  Mercy tried to stumble to her hooves, but stepped on her broken forehoof and collapsed onto the stairs with a gasp.

            	“Stay down, or I shall be forced to hurt you more.  I don’t want to.”  Rarity was panting and sweating, but she was sure she could do at least a little more.  Without taking her sight from the slumped figure of the Knight, she began to back her way into the hallway leading to the cells, where there were still sounds of a struggle going on.

            	Rarity spared a quick glance towards the fighting occupants.  One guard was limp on the floor, and a second was standing, but bleeding from a head wound.  Lofty was engaged in a tight grapple with another pony she slightly recognized, the one-eyed brute who had chased them out of Jubilation last time.  Lofty was bleeding from a deep gash just below his ear, while the other pony had several smaller wounds.  They were wrestling for a long blade.  The second guard, their escort, circled around the combatants, his eyes wild, looking for an opening.  Topaz stood to the side, nervously prancing on her hooves.

            	The room had four large, comfortably furnished stone cells, each with one side made entirely of metal bars.  Only two of the cells were full; on the one side of the room, Terminus stood close to the bars, near Topaz, watching the fight intently.  On the other side of the room, Emberglow lay in the back of her cell, curled up on the floor with her head resting on her hooves.  Her eyes were closed.  She had bruises on her face and forelegs, and the scarf she’d worn, the enchanted one they’d bought together in Nyumba Yo Joka, was a torn and bloodstained rag wrapped around her neck and shoulders.

            	The sight filled Rarity with rage once again, and it washed away her weariness.  Ignoring the way sweat was beginning to plaster her mane to her forehead, her horn blazed once again with telekinetic might.  She seized the latch on Emberglow’s cell.  It was strong, welded iron.  She pulled, and the room was filled with the screech of twisting, tortured metal.  Stone and brick dust tumbled from the ceiling in little puffs as the bars in the wall strained against their settings.  The blue light of her horn filled the room, and suddenly the rest of the action paused, all eyes on her.

            	The cell door gave a final, wrenching scream as the weak link in the system gave out: the latch itself.  There was a loud metallic snap as the bent cell door lurched open, swinging wide on twisted hinges.  Rarity only had eyes for the mare inside, though, who stirred a little at the sound and slipped her eyes open.  Rarity rushed into the cell.

            	“R-rarity, your horn,” Emberglow breathed, her eyes shooting wide with shock.

            	“Never mind me, darling.  Are you all right?”

            	“Well, I… Rarity, behind you!”

            	Time seemed to slow, and Rarity’s tired limbs, sapped to sluggishness by the magic she’d had coursing through her, reacted too slowly.  Her head turned, cursing herself for turning her back to the fight.  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lofty, slumped on the ground.  Topaz stood over him protectively.  She was shouting a warning, as was Terminus.  And the other Knight, the one with the eye patch, was thundering towards her with the long blade in hoof, his face twisted with hate.

            	“Abomination!” he howled, slashing wildly through the air as he grew closer.  She spun, knowing it would be too late for her to stop him.  She’d been distracted, and now she was going to pay for it. 

            	Desperately, she tried to ignite her horn, to cast some sort of shield, to toss him away, anything.  Reaching for her magic, though, felt like she was trying to pick up a spool of thread while wearing a pair of galoshes.  Her horn sputtered and sparked as her doom descended.

            	“Brightblade!” a voice shrieked from the entrance.  It was the Knight she’d been tossing around earlier, barely standing, holding her broken hoof up while leaning weakly on her others.  “No!”

            	It wasn’t enough to stop the Knight, but he did hesitate just enough to stumble, his knife burying in Rarity’s barrel rather than slashing at her throat.  White hot pain spasmed through her middle, and she screamed.  Adrenaline once again flooded through her exhausted form, and she was able to finally grasp hold of her magic.  She had no control, instead lashed out in a wave of brute telekinetic force, shoving the Knight back, hard enough that his blade clattered to the floor.

            	“Brightblade, you moron!” the other Knight continued.  “We can’t kill her!  We can’t kill either of them!”  She stumbled over to him, but he shoved her hard enough that she stepped on her broken hoof, yelping in pain and crumpling to the floor.

            	“Brightblade… it’s time to go.  Strategic retreat.  Please.”

            	The escort had rushed over and seized the blood-stained blade.  Lofty was struggling to his hooves, with Topaz’ help, and was already raising his gauntlet.  Emberglow was struggling to her feet, trying to move between Rarity and the Diarchy Knights.  Brightblade’s rage-shrouded eyes danced about the room, and he screamed with fury.

            	“Brightblade.  Steadfast put me in charge.  I’m giving you orders.”

            	“You’re dead.  All of you are dead.  You just don’t know it yet,” Brightblade snarled, and then began to back out of the room.  Nopony followed.  Mercy Song looked about the room one last time, her desperate gaze falling on Lofty.

            	“Lofty Tale, you can’t—"

            	“Get out of here, Mercy,” he interrupted, his voice tinged with pain from his own wounds.  “I won’t ask again.”

            	With a wordless sob of mourning, she turned and limped out of the room.  It was good timing; only a few moments later there was a clatter of hooves as a dozen alarmed zebra soldiers rushed into the room.  They  had probably just missed the departing Knights.

            	“Well, looks like that’s all handled, then,” Rarity said, then heard a liquid dripping sound.  She glanced down at the floor, where a pool of blood was forming from the wound in her side.  “Oh.  I think I’ll lie down now, if nopony objects.”

                
> Chapter 47
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 47


Official notice of Banishment, delivered to Ambassador Regal Red of the Knights Jubilant, from the Jubilation City Council


Official notice is hereby given that the Diarchy Knights



Sir Brightblade



And



Lady Mercy Song



Are hereby banished from Jubilation, for the crimes of bribery of a public official, assaulting officers of the peace, and shedding blood unprovoked within the Treaty Hall.  They have a time period of two days to finish any remaining affairs they have in the city, and then leave.  If they are found in the city limits at any time beyond this grace period, they will be arrested and punished accordingly.



This banishment shall last for a period of five years, at which point the Knights in question may return.


A copy of the notice, sent to Grand Master Steadfast Word of the Knights Mystic, has the following hoof-written note.

Brightblade is out of control.  I could barely stop him from killing Emberglow and you-know-who.  He’s a wild dog and you need to put him in a cage, or on a better leash than me.

 



1113 AF, Jubilation

            	Given how things had been going recently, Lofty was, in fact, quite surprised at how easily they’d gotten out of the cell beneath the Treaty Hall.

            	At first, the soldiers had been eager to take them all into custody, of course.  That was until both of the guards, the wounded one and their escort, had provided their eyewitness accounts that Topaz and their party had only defended themselves, and the zebra soldiers, against Brightblade’s violence.  Lofty could see their eyes light up with respect as the guards described how he had tried to defend them, as well as his own ponies.

            	After that it was a simple matter of passing his gauntlet over to Emberglow, so she could heal all of their wounds.

            	“This is not how I saw our reunion going,” he said to her with a smirk.  She looked at him and smiled, but it was a pale, dead thing, and he shuddered when he saw the hurt there.  He helped her put the gauntlet on, and she immediately went to Rarity’s side.

            	“I’m fine, darling.  I just need to rest for a—”

            	“Stop talking,” Emberglow said.  There was a clear order in her tone, something Lofty had never heard before.  “I’m going to heal you.  Hold still.”

            	Rarity’s wound was deep, and the slowly oozing crimson provided a stark contrast to her pristine fur.  Emberglow’s gauntlet flashed in a complex set of runes, almost too fast for him to see.  Rarity’s bleeding stopped.

            	“I’ve stopped the bleeding.  You’re in no danger, but there’s not enough motes in the battery to heal you all the way.  Stay down.”

            	She moved next to Lofty, and there was a fire in her eyes that silenced the protest he was about to voice.  She cast a spell on him, and he felt the uncomfortable tingle of his own wounds knitting.  The pain in his head from when Brightblade had knocked him to the floor faded as well, from an oppressive pounding to a dull thud.  She moved to the wounded zebra next, who shied away from her at first.

            	“Don’t worry, Sayyid,” another guard said.  “I’ve seen Knight healing before.  Had a gut shot patched up by one of their brothers, once, out in the field.  It’ll feel weird, but it’ll fix ya.”

            	The zebra relaxed, and Emberglow bent over him to work.  “Nothing too serious, but it’ll let you get on your hooves,” she said.  Lofty watched as his wounds knit and healed.  “I’d still like some bandages, if one of you can…”  Suddenly the commanding tone was gone, and she glanced about at the zebras, ostensibly her captors, though none of them seemed in a particular hurry to lock her back up again.  Especially since the door to her cell was destroyed.

            	“I’ve sent a zebra for first aid supplies,” the zebra sergeant who had led his troops into the holding cells said, and Emberglow nodded, before continuing to do what first aid she could on the ponies who had been wounded.

            	In particular, though, Lofty noted the way her eyes kept darting back to Rarity, the way she checked up on the resting unicorn every few moments, and even the way Emberglow’s hooves shook just a little as she touched the other mare.  As if she were constantly reassuring herself of Rarity’s presence. 

He smiled a little, his curiosity piqued.  So Emberglow and Rarity, hm?  He’d have to ask Emberglow a little about it later, when things were more settled.  It was very much like the way Topaz was fussing over him, right now.

            	“What happens now?” Topaz asked him amidst the furor of the guards moving about.

            	“I don’t know,” he said.  “But I think we’ve at least impressed these zebras.”

            	They didn’t have long to wait before a trio of zebra medics trailed in, followed by a pair of crystal ponies.  The medics got to work going over the injuries of the guard, making appreciative noises at the effects of Emberglow’s spells.  The crystal ponies, however, approached Topaz.

            	“Good evening, your grace,” the older of the two, a stallion with a greying sapphire mane and a dignified face decorated with a thin moustache and goatee.  “I am Stone Writ, and this is my partner, Hematite.  I’m sorry to see your party came to misfortune during your visit to the Treaty Hall, but it may have worked in our favor.  The prisoners are to be moved out of custody to the hospital, and then into our care.”

            	“We have arranged for a ship.” Hematite, the younger of the two, had a slicked back dark grey mane and an eager, ready smile.  “The arguments were taking quite a while.  The Diarchy ambassador was providing a very convincing argument, and these Discordant have a few enemies on the City Council.  Fortunately, news arrived of your assault, and things shifted for us.”

            	“It is possible I informed the Jubilation government of your noble title, and implied some of the consequences that may come as a result of your coming under assault by Diarchy forces within the grounds of the Treaty Hall itself.  Even the Diarchy’s allies among the council members were struck silent by the gravity of what had happened.”  Stone Writ gave a small smile of his own.  “I believe they will lose much political ground today, due to this.”

            	“Thank you both,” Topaz said.  “I’m sorry we didn’t come see you right away.  But I had to see my patient.  You understand.”

            	“Of course, your grace,” Stone Writ said, bowing.  “I do wish you’d been more careful.  You could have come to injury.”

            	“You’re right.  Perhaps I was overconfident.”  She reached over and hugged Lofty with one hoof, kissing him gently on the cheek as she made sure not to squeeze any of his wounds.  “I might have to see about my stallionfriend teaching me to defend myself.”

            	“Any time, love,” Lofty whispered.

            	“Ah yes.  I had heard that the duchess had taken a paramour,” Stone Writ said.  “Lofty Tale, it is a pleasure.  Now, please, allow the medics to look over your wounds, and we will see about hurrying our escort to the hospital.  I have been made aware that Escher, of the Royal Guard, and Agent Mahogany of the Intelligence Service have seen to the packing of your things and to the well-being of your son.  They shall be on the ship when we arrive.  Your son, I am told, was quite excited to be going…” he cleared his throat to hide a chuckle “… onna big ship ‘gain.”  He restored his expression to a professional mien.  “The prisoner Heartwing has also already been transferred on board Pearl Shimmer.”

            	“How did you arrange things so quickly?” Topaz gasped, impressed.

            	“Your grace,” Stone Writ’s smile widened smugly.  “Some ponies have a talent for making others smile.”  Topaz blushed.  “Others have a talent for being a hero, or for healing.”  He glanced at Emberglow.  “Me?  I have a talent for logistics and bureaucracy.  It is not boasting when I say I was born for this, and I take a great deal of pride at what I do.”

            	“Well, you should.” Topaz gave him a grin.  “C’mon, Lofty.  Let’s get you cleared by the medic.”

            	It was, after Emberglow’s triage healing, a bit of a formality.  Most of his wounds were minor, though the medic was concerned about a possible concussion.  They were cleared to at least head to a hospital, however, though the guards apologetically insisted on putting shackles on Emberglow and Terminus.

            	Terminus agreed without argument, but Emberglow froze.  Lofty saw something in her eyes, the panicked sort of look of a small animal that had just been caught in a bright light.  As the guard approached her slowly, shackles in hoof, she began to shake and tremble, her wings twitching.

            	“Woah, woah, hang on a second,” Topaz said as she rushed over.  “Emberglow, calm down.  Please take a deep breath.”  She turned to the sergeant.  “Officer, my patient here is suffering from a traumatic stress disorder as a result of sustained and brutal torture, both mental and physical.  The last time she was put in shackles was probably at the hooves of the very stallion we chased out of here earlier.  Isn’t there any way we can transport her without re-victimizing her again?”

            	“Would it help,” Stone Writ began, “If you had the personal oath and assurance of a member of the Crystal Empire royal family vouching for her good behavior?”

            	The sergeant looked back and forth between them, and sighed, signalling for his zebra to stand down.

            	“I give you my word, sir, that Emberglow here will be on her best behavior.” Topaz moved up beside her, so their barrels were practically touching.  She looped a hoof around the taller mare, while murmuring soothing words into her ear.  “I swear it as a d-duchess of the Crystal Empire.”  It sounded awkward, but it seemed to be enough for the sergeant, who nodded. 

            	The procession to the hospital was tense.  Emberglow was quiet, as was Rarity, who would barely leave Emberglow’s side.  Terminus’ shackles clinked with every step, but he seemed to take it all with quiet dignity.  Seeing as how his old friend seemed to be in good hooves with Topaz, Lofty moved up beside Terminus for the trip.  Both ponies ignored the curious zebras and other creatures stopping their business to stare at the erstwhile prisoners and their escort.

            	“This is… not exactly how I thought we’d meet the first time,” he said, and Terminus huffed with amusement.  “It actually started more like this.  Hi.  I’m Lofty Tale.”

            	“Terminus Flash,” Terminus replied with a smile.  “I’d offer to shake your hoof, but I’m a little tied up at the moment.”

            	“Right,” Lofty laughed along, before lowering his voice.  “I don’t know everything that happened.  I’ve only heard part of it, with all the craziness that’s been going on, between Heartwing turning himself in to the Empire—”

            	“Heartwing did what?” Terminus hissed, his wings shaking and fighting against the restraints that bound them to his barrel.  “He couldn't.  That utter idiot!  The princess hates him, why would he even consider it?”

            	“Why do you think?” Lofty said gently.  The fire in Terminus’ eyes died down a little, and he gulped.  “He’s devoted to you.  I don’t even think he stopped to consider the consequences to himself.”

            	“I always wanted his full devotion,” Terminus muttered angrily.  “But not like this.”  It seemed like something he was saying more to himself than Lofty, so he chose to ignore it. 

            	“I don’t think you should worry.  He’s made some sort of arrangement with the ambassador.  Besides, Princess Flurry Heart seems reasonable.  I’m sure she knows by now that Heartwing is one of us; an Element of Harmony.”  Lofty patted Terminus on the back.  “I wouldn’t be concerned.  We’ll have you out of your shackles and into your s-stallionfriend’s hooves as soon as possible.”

            	He hesitated for only a second on the term.  He’d known about Emberglow’s homosexuality for years, and it still made him a little uncomfortable to think about.  But that was the past, and he was going to put it behind him.  However long it took.

            	“Y-yeah,” Terminus whispered, his worry clear.

            	“So, we didn’t get to it earlier, but what did happen when you two got arrested?”

            	“We were lured into a trap and betrayed,” Terminus growled.  He recounted the story of Yazid telling them about Chip, about finding the corpse of the Knight Discordant, and how Brightblade and the zebra soldiers had cornered them.

            	“Emberglow… became violent.” Terminus’ voice had dropped to a mere breath.  He tried to reach up, but his shackles rattled and held his hoof down.  Instead, he dipped his head, where Lofty could just see swelling and bruising around his right eye.  “This didn’t come from the fight, or one of the soldiers.  I tried to hold her back from attacking Brightblade.  We were trapped anyways, and I could tell he was looking for an excuse to hurt her.”  Terminus shot a glance to where Emberglow walked, between Topaz and Rarity, looking as if she could tumble over at any moment.  “She was enraged.  I don’t know what happened, but I think it was because he was the one who tortured her before.”  Terminus’ voice became a snarl.  “I’m going to remember the look of glee on his face when he assaulted her for the rest of my life, Lofty.”

            	“Makes me sad I didn’t get to hurt him more,” Lofty muttered, and Terminus nodded his agreement.  “We can’t give him another chance to touch her.”  They shared a look then, a moment of camaraderie that Lofty had missed dearly since he’d been expelled.  


*   *   *   *   *


            	The zebra hospital was both like and unlike the ones Lofty was familiar with back in New Canterlot City.  On the one hoof, there were the same assessments and tests he expected from any hospital.  But instead of the magical healing of runes and rune gauntlets, all of the exams came with potions.  Zebra magic, as he remembered from his time years ago at the Ivy Seminary, came mostly from alchemy.  Each of the wounded was given a salve or a small bottle of odd-smelling liquid, and the zebra doctors waited imperiously while the ponies in question drank their literal medicine.  Even Lofty was required to sip on a small bottle, slowly, one half-mouthful at a time, as a precaution against the concussion they suspected him of having.  It tasted a little like parsley and chives, and it made his tongue and forehead feel cool, but other than that there was no real discomfort.  He found that he actually preferred it to rune healing, though he’d never admit as much to Emberglow.

            	Emberglow was treated for a dozen or so bruises she’d received from Brightblade during her arrest (though she still was saying next to nothing, which worried him).  The wounded soldiers all had their cuts tended to, while Rarity had a salve smeared liberally onto her wound (to prevent scarring, the doctors promised) before they stitched it closed and bandaged her around the barrel.

            	“I do have to ask, has somepony gone back to Golden Willow’s home to collect our belongings?  I wouldn’t mind doing so myself, if only to check on poor Chip,” Rarity said. 

            	“Heartwing informed us of the need, yes,” Stone Writ said.  

Lofty flinched.  He’d heard from his grandfather, before the old stallion had been killed in the raid, about the horrible, slow, diminishing death that struck those poor unicorns who had their horns removed.  He was still getting used to talking to them.  It helped that Rarity seemed so real; not like her larger-than-life scripture self he’d read about since he was a foal.  He hoped to get more time to speak with her, but he also figured he should keep his distance until she approached.  He carried her old Element, after all, and she might be a little sensitive about that still.

            	After a tense hour in the hospital (where Lofty worried constantly about some sort of last-second legal maneuver from the Diarchy ponies), they finally were cleared to proceed to the port.  They made an odd sort of procession: two prisoners, but only one shackled.  Zebra guards there to keep the prisoners from causing mayhem, perhaps, but also there to protect them. 

            	“Even after all that’s happened, I’m rather sad to be leaving,” Rarity spoke up.  Several of their party, including Lofty himself, stared at her.  “What?  This town has so much potential, so much beauty and mystery.  It makes me sad that we experienced so much tragedy here, when I’m sure it has much more to offer us.”

            	“You will have to return, in more peaceful times,” one of the zebra guards said, and Rarity smiled at him.

            	“There is something romantic about it, isn’t there?” Topaz added.  Lofty couldn’t help himself; he looked out towards the harbor, where the sun was setting, shooting its rays across the city and coloring the eastern sides of the usually white stucco bright orange.  Their shadows stretched long behind them, and Lofty thought he could hear, far in the distance, sounds of music and laughter.  They were probably close to one of the markets he’d heard about.

            	“I would like to come back some day,” he said to Topaz, who turned back from her steadfast position at Emberglow’s side to smile at him.  “Seems like a good place for a date.”

            	“It is,” Terminus said, and now everypony stared at him.  He tried to ruffle his feathers proudly, but only managed to shift his restraints around.  “I… may have asked Heartwing out on our first date, when he came to the city to bring me home after my training here.  I’m amazed he said yes.  I was only nineteen… he was just a little out of my age range.”

            	Rarity snorted in amusement, and Lofty cocked his head to the side in confusion.  He’d heard some crazy things about Heartwing already, but just how old was he?

            	They reached the docks without incident.  Lofty was taken aback by the sounds and the smells; even at sundown, the place was bustling.  Smaller vessels were darting in and out of the harbor, piled high with fish.  He’d heard some zebras were pescatarians, but that there were enough to have an entire industry was surprising.  There were also merchant vessels, their dockhooves still hard at work moving about heavy crates of goods, piling them onto wide, flat carts hitched to teams of zebras.

            	Tied to one of the longer piers was a gorgeous three-masted ship with orange and yellow sails, though Lofty had to squint to try and see if they were naturally that color, or just tinted by the sunset.  When he got closer, he got his answer. The ship’s figurehead was an intricate carving of a unicorn rampant; she was freshly painted to look like Sunset Shimmer, the supposed ‘Second Great Heretic’ of the Diarchy, and a pony Lofty had been tasked with learning more about.

            	“Looks like the Crystal Empire has a very different view of Sunset Shimmer than we did,” he noted to Terminus, who nodded.

            	When they reached the ship, the guard sergeant passed Stone Writ a folder full of papers.  “We surrender the prisoners Emberglow and Terminus Flash to your custody.  You may keep the restraints if you wish, for the transport of the prisoner.”

            	“We will have no need,” Stone Writ replied.  “I’m sure the prisoners will behave themselves on board.  Please, remove them.”

            	The zebras unlocked Terminus’ restraints, and he immediately spread his wings.  Lofty could see the muscles in his legs tensing, as if ready to spring into the air immediately.  Terminus held himself back, though, merely stretching his wings as he rubbed his hooves.  “Thank you,” he said.

            	“Pearl Shimmer is a fast ship with very little room, but the quarters are comfortable.  You should be safe on board.  The captain wishes to leave first thing in the morning, so you will spend the night here.  The Diarchy would not be stupid enough to attack you.”

            	“The Diarchy, maybe not.  But that Brightblade?” Terminus muttered, shaking his head.  “That pony was mad.”

            	Lofty had faced him, and he had to agree.  Brightblade’s steely eyes had been a nightmare of obsession and zeal.  It had taken all his skill to hold him off, and in the first moment of distraction, Lofty had dropped his guard and gotten a mild concussion for his troubles.

            	“I don’t think he will have the opportunity,” Stone Writ said.  “I would be surprised if the Knight who attacked you still walks free.  Even if he does, it may be days before he realizes where you all went.  Still, it may be prudent to post guard.  Now—”  he pointed at the gangplank that reached from the ship to the dock.  “—let’s go meet the captain.”

            	Stone Writ knocked his hoof on the gangplank three times, loudly.  There were several sailors on board, and not all of them were ponies.  Though most of the crew glistened in the sun with the sparkly coats of the crystal ponies, there were a few other regular ponies as well, in addition to two bipedal canine creatures that Lofty recognized from his studies as Diamond Dogs.  The sailors all stopped what they were doing to glance over.  “I have brought your passengers.  Would somepony go fetch the captain, so that they may have his permission to board?”  One of the dogs waved a paw and rushed off towards a door in the quarter deck, knocking gently and whispering something to the door, before taking a step back.

            	A few moments later, the quarter deck door exploded open, and a mountain of fur and horns blasted out and clattered onto the deck.  It was a creature unlike any Lofty had ever seen, or read about, and it stomped over to the gangplank.  Its voluminous mane draped thickly over its eyes, and two curved horns shot from either side of the furry mass, wrapped with gold bands studded with tiny gems.  It wore a broad tricorn hat.

            	“Guests!” came the shout, in a distinctly masculine voice.  “Come aboard Pearl Shimmer, don’t be shy!  Captain Yancey welcomes you!  Your other friends are on board!”

            	The volume was enough to make Lofty jump a bit, but the broad smile on the creature’s muzzle was inviting.  He stepped up onto the gangplank, followed by Topaz and Rarity, then Emberglow, who oddly enough didn’t use her wings.  Terminus just flew up on deck.

            	“My son is on board?” Lofty asked, holding out a hoof for the captain to shake.  Instead of shaking it, the captain struck it with his own cloven hoof, hard enough to rattle Lofty’s bones.

            	“Your son is the small one with your colors, just reversed?  Yes!  Captain Yancey likes the little one already!  He was full of questions about Captain Yancey and what Captain Yancey is!”  The captain laughed.  “Captain Yancey is a yak, if you were wondering.  Your son had never seen one, either.”

            	“A yak?”  Lofty had never even heard of yaks, but now he wanted to.  There was something so cheerful and engaging about the (admittedly very loud) captain.  Lofty hoped he’d have a chance to learn more.

            	“I knew several yaks, years ago,” Rarity said from behind him, stepping forward to hoof-bump the captain herself.  “They were all lovely creatures, so full of brightness and energy.  It’s so nice to meet another, Captain.  I am Rarity.”

            	Each of the ponies took the time to introduce themselves, though Emberglow’s voice was barely above a whisper, and she shrank back as soon as the conversation was over.  Lofty noticed both Terminus and Topaz giving each other a knowing look.

            	The captain gave them a quick tour of Pearl Shimmer, including the galley and their quarters.   When they reached the small, cramped cabin Lofty would be sharing with Topaz and True, his son was already in place, bouncing about in the hammock he would be staying in.

            	“Daddy!” True squealed, tumbling out with a painful yelp onto the floor.  He rushed over.  “You got hurt?”

            	“Just a little.  Had to stop the bad guys from hurting Miss Emberglow and a new friend.” He introduced True to Terminus.  A bit of the life even sparked back into Emberglow’s eyes when she saw the colt.

            	They moved onto the next cabin, perhaps even a bit smaller than the first, which would be shared by Emberglow, Terminus, and Rarity.  Rarity cheered with delight when she saw that her luggage had all been moved on board, and immediately popped open the trunk and began digging around.

            	“Rarity,” Terminus began carefully.  “Is this really the time…”

            	“One moment, darling.  I had a bit of a magic moment in the Treaty Hall, there, and I’d like to see if Twilight has anything to say about it.”

            	Lofty saw the look of resignation on Terminus’ face, and even noticed, for a split second, the wince of pain Emberglow gave.  He was about to ask, but something held him back.

            	“Go on about your tour, don’t mind me.” Rarity waved a hoof, not looking up as she dug through her things.  “I’ll just be here, doing a little light research.”

            	“It was impressive, the way your horn kinda went into overdrive like that,” Terminus said.  “But perhaps we should—”

            	“Wouldn’t you like to check on Heartwing, Terminus darling?” Rarity asked, and Terminus sighed.  “Trust me, I’ll be fine on my own.”

            	“If you’re sure,” Terminus sighed, and the rest of them moved on, Emberglow giving one last mournful look at the trunk’s contents being haphazardly sprayed about the room.  True darted out, jumping up on Topaz’ back with a giggle.  Topaz even made sure to add a little bounce to her step, much to the laughing foal’s delight.  Lofty made to follow, but for a brief instant he felt the brush of a bony hoof against his shoulder.

            	“Rarity.  Lofty Tale.  I need help.  You said you would help.”

            	Rarity had just finished fishing whatever it was she was looking for out of her chest: a small statuette that looked like Saint Twilight, only with a horn.  She stared at Starlight, who had suddenly appeared in the room.

            	“Does she… do that often?” Rarity sounded unsettled.

            	“Very often. It’s surprising, but sometimes very convenient,” Lofty said.  “She’s never been able to tell me where she goes, or how.”

            	“Very well, darling,” Rarity gave the statuette a mournful glance, before setting it down on the cabin’s bunk.  “We’ll help you.  But remember, you promised you would not use the spell without asking me first.”

            	“I remember,” Starlight said.  There was a reverence to how she said those words, caressing them with her voice.  “I promised.”

            	“Very well.  Lofty, can you find Starlight’s journal?  I assume it’s with your things.”

            	Lofty found his own saddlebags stashed in a cupboard underneath one of the bunks.  He pulled the journal out.

            	“Can one of you tell me exactly what you’re going to be working on?”

            	“A spell, darling,” Rarity said.  “A dangerous bit of magic that Starlight once cast, then destroyed.  She’s trying to recreate it.”

            	“What does it do?”

            	“It takes the caster back in time.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	After an hour of intense magical discussion, most of which went totally beyond Lofty’s head, they were finally summoned by a confused Topaz to a late dinner in the galley.

            	“I thought you were right behind us,” Topaz said.  Lofty shrugged.

            	“They asked for my help working on something for Starlight,” he said.  “Though I don’t know how much help I was.  I mostly just answered a bunch of questions about how the batteries in rune gauntlets worked.  I wish Emberglow could have been there.”

            	“Emberglow’s not exactly in a good place right now.  Thank you for filling in.” Topaz gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

            	“Do you know what happened?”

            	“Guilt, mostly.  She thinks she’s failed, because she came close to breaking a vow she made.  An oath to do no harm.  When Brightblade cornered her, she attacked him first.  It’s weighing her down.”

            	It was a feeling Lofty knew well.  Guilt was a paralytic; it hadn’t been so long ago that Lofty had been able to do little more than work in his garden and care for True.  “Will she be okay?”

            	“I’m sure of it,” Topaz said.  “It may take some time, though.  Oh, and it looks like Escher and Mahogany made it on board, as well as some other intelligence service ‘ponies’.  We’re in good hooves.” 

She looked behind Lofty into the room where Rarity and Starlight, with the help of an enchanted talking statuette, were deep in concentration over some small experiment they were working on, involving a circle of greenish energy spinning in the air.  Inside the circle were what appeared to be clock hands.  Rarity looked fatigued, but she didn’t seem ready to stop any time soon.

“Rarity?  Starlight?  Dinner?” she ventured.  Rarity didn’t even look up.

“You go on, both of you.  Bring me something later, if you can, though.  I think I’m just about to make a…” the green circle suddenly collapsed with a pop and a puff of sulfurous air, blasting smoke into Rarity and Starlight’s face.  She coughed daintily.  “Well.  I was about to make a breakthrough.  Twilight, do you know what went wrong?”

“That information is not stored in this construct,” the talking statue replied. 

“Oh well.  Never you mind, Lofty.  We’ll continue without you.  Though it would be nice if you could drop something by.”

“Rarity,” Topaz said, with some asperity in her voice.  “We’re going to be discussing the next stage of our journey.  We need your input.”

Rarity clicked her tongue with annoyance.  “Very well.  But this spell could be very important!  If we could somehow—”

            	“It's a time travel spell, Rarity.  It’s not going anywhere.  It will be here when you get back.”

            	Rarity huffed, but nodded.  “If you insist.  Starlight, will you be joining us?”

            	“May I stay?” Starlight asked, her voice tiny, almost like a foal’s begging for permission.  “I would like to speak with Twilight.”

            	Rarity’s face softened.  “Of course you may, darling.  Stay as long as you need to.”

            	Just down the hall from their room was the galley.  It consisted mostly of a row of benches and short tables bolted to the floor, and a small kitchen area in the corner.  When Lofty entered, with Rarity in tow, everypony else was there, except Heartwing.

            	There were two ponies Lofty didn’t recognize, however.  One was an earth pony mare, dressed in the yellow armor of the Discordant.  She had her hoof draped protectively around the second pony, a young stallion wrapped in a blanket and shivering.  He looked sick, as if a stiff sea breeze might come along and knock him over.  On the other side of the colt sat Emberglow.  She was carefully watching the colt.

            	With a jerk of surprise, Lofty noticed the severed stub of a horn on the colt’s head.  Topaz must have noticed at the same time, because she hissed in fury.  The colt looked up at their entrance, his sunken green eyes tight with pain.

            	“Lofty, Topaz,” Terminus began.  “I’d like you to meet Chocolate Chip and Golden Willow.”

            	“I-I thought…” Lofty began, then snapped his mouth shut, breathing heavily through his nose to calm himself.

            	“Thought what, Lofty?” Rarity asked.

            	“I-it’s okay,” the colt stammered, his eyes on the floor.  “I know w-what you’re going to ask.  It’s t-t-true.  I’m dying.”  Oddly enough he didn’t stammer on the last word.

“Chip is a very brave pony, and he wanted to come share something with us.”  Terminus motioned with one hoof to the colt, who glanced about the room nervously.

            	“O-okay,” he said.  “S-so before I got caught and…” he gulped.  “Caught and attacked, we were trying to figure out what the Diarchy wanted with Makucha ya Paka.  I don’t know m-much about zebra languages, but th-that one means ‘C-cat’s Claw’.”

            	“Like the song!” Rarity said.  Chip nodded.

            	“Y-you’re not the first to make that c-connection.  It’s been s-searched.  A thousand t-times, probably.  But then why would the D-diarchy be building an outpost there?”  He paused, and Lofty realized with horror that he was catching his breath.  Willow stroked his back gently, tears brimming in her eyes.

            	“We can take a break if we—”

            	“N-no.” Chip made a slashing motion with one hoof.  “I h-have to explain it all.  I h-have to tell them.  It’s the only way I win.”

            	“I’ll get you a drink, at least,” Emberglow said, standing from her spot next to him and walking over to the small kitchen area.

            	“Th-thanks.  So Lady Justice and I were supposed to lose our pursuit and then head b-back to Willow’s house.  We were, but then we saw one of the Diarchy Knights in the marketplace.  H-hiring labor.”

            	“Labor?” Rarity asked.

            	“There’s a place you can go to contract day laborers.  There’s also a few different work guilds, construction companies.  It’s on the south end of the market,” Willow said helpfully.

            	“Y-yeah.  And Lady Justice and I were able t-to get close enough to hear what they were negotiating for.  A c-construction company, to do some excavating.  Stone work, though, n-not earth moving.  And they were going to need to be travelling by boat.  The contractor asked where they’d be sailing to.  The Knight didn’t s-say exactly, but h-he did describe the island wh-where they’re b-building their outpost.”

            	“So the Diarchy is digging for something on an island that’s already been searched a thousand times before?” Lofty said.  “What are they up to?  And what do they know that we don’t?”

            	“We need to get to that island,” Rarity said.

            	“Why?” Terminus said.  “It’s obviously a trap.  Besides, we’re not in charge of the ship.  I doubt the captain would let us make a detour, especially when three of us are technically prisoners.”

            	“Is Heartwing okay?” Emberglow’s voice came as a bit of a shock; she’d been alarmingly quiet since they’d released her from prison.  She had found a bottle somewhere, and passed it to Chip.  He took a sip, his eyes widening suddenly.  He looked at her in shock, but she just gave him a sad little smile. 

            	“He is.  He’s in the hold, in the bottom of the ship.  There’s a brig there.  It’s small, but he’s fine.”  Terminus made a pained look.  “He’s making jokes.  I wish he’d take this seriously.”

            	“We all cope with adversity in our own way,” Topaz murmured, and Terminus gave a patient sigh. 

            	“Regardless of Heartwing, who’s not available right now,” Rarity began,  “we need to convince the captain to take us on a detour.  We thought we’d lost our chance to get the Element of Magic, but the Diarchy may be leading us right to it.  The name of the island fits the song, after all.”

            	“It's too easy,” Terminus said.  “We need to know more, before we ask the Captain to sail into a trap.”

            	“Well, the ambassador did say she’d have intelligence agents look into the situation.  Maybe they’ll be able to share more.”  Rarity said.  Lofty knew who that probably meant.  He wondered if Mahogany had taken Escher along with him.  He hadn’t seen the two since they’d left the embassy.  “So here’s what we’ll do.”  Lofty found it interesting that nopony challenged Rarity’s taking charge.  “I’d like to see what the ambassador’s agents come up with, but we should move forward on asking the captain to take us to this… ‘Cat’s Claw’ island.  At least to have a look.  It would be a shame to have come all this way for nothing.  Topaz, can I trust you to influence things on our behalf?”

            	“If it looks like it’ll be safe, I will,” Topaz said.  “I won’t order these innocent sailors into danger needlessly.”

            	“Some risk might be necessary,” Rarity said.  For a second, Lofty thought he smelled something odd, something that reminded him of his father’s old library.  Book glue and parchment?  But it was gone before he could smell it again.  “But we won’t make our decision ignorantly.  Shall we reconvene after we hear from the intelligence ponies?”

            	“I’ll let you know when they get back,” Topaz said.

            	“I will be in my cabin, after our meeting.  Is there anything else?” Rarity looked about authoritatively.

            	“I might have something,” Terminus said.  “But it’s for the Knights present.  And Chip, if you’re feeling up to it.”

            	“Some sort of secret?” Rarity’s eyes narrowed.

            	“No,” Terminus said gently.  “A ceremony.”

            	Willow’s eyes widened, and she gave a sob and crushed Chip against her in a tight embrace.  Chip looked confused.  Topaz glanced at Lofty, quizzically.

            	“I don’t know,  but I have an idea.  It’ll be fine.  Go watch for Escher and Mahogany, please?  And make sure True is settling into his cabin.”

            	“Okay,” she said, leaning up to kiss him, which he returned with vigor.  She then guided a confused looking Rarity out of the room.

            	“Come, let’s go see Heartwing,” Terminus said as soon as the Knights, and Chip, were alone in the galley.  “Not the most ideal of circumstances for this, but…” he trailed off into silence, and the only sound was Willow’s quiet weeping.  With a sigh, he turned around and walked over next to the small galley, where a trapdoor led into the hold.

            	One after another, the Knights stepped down the narrow ladder that led to the ship’s hold.  Chip was trembling with exhaustion, so the others had to carefully help him down, with Terminus standing sentinel at the bottom to make sure he didn’t fall.  Lofty came down last, after Emberglow.  When he got to the bottom, he saw that Chip was still carrying the bottle.

            	“Th-this is ale, isn’t it?” he asked Emberglow softly.  “I d-don’t know if I’m old enough.”

            	“Does it matter now?” Emberglow whispered, and Chip’s eyes glazed a little, before he took a long drink from the bottle.

            	In the hold was a forest of crates and barrels.  A narrow pathway between them all led to a small brig in the back, lit by a single lantern.  There was a bunk inside, and Heartwing’s chained form was splayed out on it.  The gentle sounds of snores came from the cell.

            	Terminus stopped just outside the cell, reaching with one hoof.  He was just a little too far away to touch Heartwing, and Lofty saw a look of pain cross his eyes.  But he called out gently.

            	“Heartwing?  Wake up, please.  We’ve got somepony that needs to see you.”

            	The chains rattled as Heartwing stirred.  “Dear heart, what…” He turned around and blinked a few times, before noticing everypony gathering around.  “Chip!”  He jerked out of his cot, stumbling a bit at his restraints, and moved as close to the bars as he could.  Terminus caressed Heartwing’s face with one hoof, while Heartwing stared at the young colt in horror.  “Sweet Celestia, Chip, what did they do to you?”

            	“Sir Heartwing.”  Terminus’ words were formal, but his voice was thick with emotion.  “Squire Chocolate Chip has shown a dedication to duty and courage beyond his young years.  I submit to you that his training is complete, and he should be honored with Knighthood.  Who here present will second him?”

            	“I will,” Willow said, without hesitation.

            	“Me, too,” Emberglow said.

            	“I will also second,” Lofty said.  He hadn’t known Chip for long, but he knew the colt was dying.  Most other ponies would have given up.  Chip was still trying to find a way to fight.  He had nothing but respect for the young stallion.

            	“B-but… my training isn’t complete,” Chip stammered.  “Lady Justice died.  And I… I…” his body shook as he was wracked with coughing.

            	“As the Grand Master of the Discordant, I have the right to determine when a pony is ready for Knighthood.  I also have the right to accept the word of those who know you, to judge if you are ready or not.”

            	“I’m dying, Sir Heartwing,” Chip said calmly.  “I don’t know how much use to you I’ll be as a Knight.”

            	“It’s not about whether or not I can use you.  It’s about whether or not you’ve earned it.  These other Knights say you have.  Do you believe it?”

            	Chip looked from Emberglow, to Willow, to Terminus, and finally to Lofty.  He shakily stepped towards the bars.  “I d-do, sir.”

            	“Kneel, Squire Chip,” Heartwing said.  “Um, Willow?  I may need you to be my hooves, here.  I can’t exactly…” he wiggled his manacled hoof, sending the chain clinking about again.  Chip knelt before the bars, and he let the blanket slip from his shoulders.  Lofty could see he was trembling.

            	“Squire Chip.  The world is broken.  The Princesses are gone.  The Council of Friendship is worshipped on an altar of falsehood and hatred.  You have chosen the path of Discord.  You will be the blade of chaos, the spear of rebellion.  You will sow dissension and death to those who sit on thrones of lies, and you stand as guardian to the hurt, the outcast, and the innocent.  Your oath is to be upheld for life.  Do you swear to do these things?”

            	“I do.”  Tears streamed down Chip’s face.

            	“You swear with your blood, Squire.  Thousands before you have spilled their blood for the truth, and thousands may after you.  You spill your blood to join with theirs.”

            	Willow unsheathed a blade, a long dagger buckled to her side.  “Hold out your hoof, squire,” Willow said.  When Chip did so, she gently pricked the frog of his hoof, just enough to draw a trickle of blood.  Lofty noticed that Chip never flinched.

            	“You’ve shed your blood for Equestria once.  You must always be ready to do it again.  By this oath, you are bound to us, bound to duty and love and truth.  Now, let your blood drip on the ground.”

            	Chip turned his hoof over, letting the drips fall on the ship’s deck.

            	“I name you Sir Chocolate Chip, Knight of the Discordant.  May all the alicorns watch over your vigil, and may the Elements be your guide.”  While Heartwing spoke, Willow gently touched him on one shoulder with her blood-dripped blade, then the other.  Finally she touched him once on the forehead, just beneath the stump of his horn.

            	“Thank you,” Chip said into the silence that followed.  Willow reached down and wrapped him in a hug.  “Do you… d-do you think Lady Justice was watching?”

            	“I’m sure she’s proud of you,” Willow said.  “I am.”

            	“I’m honored to have you as one of mine,” Heartwing said.  “I’d have done the Knighting more properly myself, but I’m a bit tied up at the moment.”  As a joke went, it was weak, and nopony laughed.

            	“So, S-sir Heartwing, what are my d-duties?” Chip asked.  He managed a wan smile.  “I don’t know h-how much use I’ll be, or for how long.  M-maybe three or four w-weeks.”

            	“I suspect things will be messy with the Diarchy forces in Jubilation.  Your body is weak, but your eyesight and your hearing are fine.  I’ll need you to help Willow be my eyes and ears in Jubilation, and see if anything interesting happens.  Meanwhile, Sir Chip… spend time with your family.”  Heartwing paused, and flinched.  “I never even asked if you had family here.”

            	“My m-mother, sir.  She… she doesn’t know yet.”

            	A look of agony crossed Heartwing’s face, and Terminus once again reached out to comfort his coltfriend through the bars.

            	“Willow, I’ll have to leave that duty to you.  Give her my condolences.  And my apologies.”

            	“Yes, sir.”

            	“Light duty for you, too.  Lay low.  Don’t take any risks.  Understand?”

            	“Yes, sir!”


*   *   *   *   *


            	After the ceremony, everypony seemed to be in no mood for talking.  Lofty understood.  Terminus elected to stay behind with Heartwing, while Emberglow saw Willow and Chip off the ship.  They were going to Chip’s home, to somehow explain to his mother that he was going to die.  Lofty didn’t envy Willow her duty in the slightest.

            	For his part, he wandered over to Rarity’s cabin.  He was sure she was working with Starlight on the spell again, and he could at least see if helping them would take his mind off what he’d seen.

            	Rarity and Starlight were deep in conversation by the time Lofty got there.

            	“…main problem is still there.  You may not remember how your spell worked, but it didn’t actually change anything!  The present wasn’t altered, because nothing you did was permanent, and everything was fixed by Twilight.”  There was a pause.  “Ugh.  I wonder if you and Twilight ever got headaches like this when discussing time travel.”

            	“I don’t remember.”

            	“Perhaps we’re looking at this wrong.  Your spell, while more powerful, didn’t change a thing.  When Twilight used the other time travel spell, she did have an effect; only we didn’t realize until later that it had already…”

            	Lofty opened the door, finding Rarity and Starlight both crowded around the cabin’s tiny writing desk.  Starlight’s journal was open on the desk, as well as one of Rarity’s notebooks.  The Twilight construct perched silently on the desk as well, waiting for orders.

            	“Sorry to interrupt,” Lofty said.  “Please, don’t let me stop your conversation.”

            	“It’s no problem at all, Lofty.  Did you need something?”

            	“Just came to help.” He needed something to distract himself.

            	“We’re at a bit of a deadlock at the moment.  Starlight’s old spell might be powerful enough to send a pony back in time, but I’m not sure it will work.  The spell was tied to the map in the Castle of Friendship, and as you may have noticed, there’s no Friendship Map to serve as a focus.  I suggested another spell, one that Starlight has also written notes on, but that has problems as well.”

            	“How many time travel spells are there?” Lofty gaped at her.

            	“Two that we know of.  Starswirl may have written more, but his spells were all locked away in the Canterlot Library, last I heard. And they’re probably long gone by now.”

            	“Well…” Lofty mused.  “Honestly, I don’t know how much help I can be, but there was a technique we used, during my time in the Vigilant.  We called it ‘rubber ducking’.”

            	“You called it what now?”

            	Lofty laughed and waved a hoof.  “Rubber ducking.  It’s kind of a mental technique.  You talk about the case you’re working on to an inanimate object.  Like a rubber duck.  And as you talk about the mystery, or the problem out loud, sometimes you figure things out.  You have insights you might not have had before.  So let me be your rubber duck.”

            	“Very well, darling,” Rarity had a bemused look.  “I shall try.  So the spell Starlight has spent most of her time trying to recreate was tied to an enchanted map in Twilight’s castle…”

            	Rarity told a tale so incredible Lofty almost couldn’t believe it.  He’d been told by his grandfather, by Lady Quiet Sleep, and even by Emberglow during her brief time at his manor that the Book of the Saints was far from the truth, but the real story just sounded so amazing.  Multiple alternate futures, an epic battle in the past, and a redemption agonizingly worked out on a barren dust-swept wasteland. 

            	“So you see our first problem, darling,” Rarity said when her story was finished.  Lofty stared at her blankly, and she sighed a little.  “The spell was tied to the Map.  The map was tied to our own cutie marks.  Our destiny.  And the single momentous event that led to all of us getting our cutie marks was the first Rainboom.  The spell was tied to that event.  But we don’t have some large magical nexus to tie another spell to.”

            	“But there was a second spell?” Lofty asked.

            	“Oh yes.  Much smaller and weaker.  It allowed Princess Twilight…” Rarity hesitated.  “Well, she wasn’t a princess yet, just a regular unicorn.  Um.  That doesn’t matter.  She used the spell to send herself back in time.  Only by a week, and only for a few seconds.”

            	“Tell me about that one,” Lofty suggested.

            	“There’s not much to tell.  It seems more useful for our purposes.  Unlike the one Starlight cast, Twilight’s spell seems to actually have had an effect on the future.  Starlight was unable to make changes to the present, but Twilight…” Rarity shook her head in frustration.  “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

            	“Why wouldn’t this spell work?”

            	“Because it only goes back a few months at the most.  In order to send a pony back a few centuries, we’d need… twelve Twilight Sparkles!  And then there’s the other issue.  The spell only lasts a few seconds, then the caster simply returns to their own time.  What could we say, or do, to change the course of history in a matter of heartbeats?  How do we save Sunset Shimmer in the blink of an eye?”

            	“You said…” Lofty felt like he was on the tip of something important.  “You said that the caster is sent back in time, and the caster is returned when the spell ends.”

            	“Yes…” Rarity said.

            	“So the spell is tied to the unicorn who casts it.  But what if it were cast from a rune gauntlet?  Would the spell be tied to the caster?  Or to the gauntlet?”

            	“That’s an interesting question, Lofty, but I don’t quite understand why you’re…”

            	“Let me tell you a story, Rarity.  When a pony swears the oath to join the Knights Vigilant, one of the Order’s secrets we learn is about one of our earliest ponies, a Knight by the name of Jabbernote.”

            	This time it was his turn to tell the story.  Rarity reacted predictably, with excitement at the implication that Sunset Shimmer had already been saved by a changeling, and with horror and disgust at Jabbernote’s admittedly cowardly and cruel behavior.

            	“So was it a changeling from the past?” Rarity mused, when he was complete.  “Or do we, at some point in the future, manage to cast the spell successfully, sending a changeling back to take Sunset’s place?”

            	Lofty didn’t have time to answer.  There was a knock on the door.

            	“Come in!” Rarity called out.

            	“Was somepony talking about changelings?” Escher was standing there, wearing his insectoid shape, complete with red and black carapace.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to overhear the last bits.  Topaz said that Rarity would like to be informed when my uncle and I returned.  We have news.”

            	“Good news, I hope, darling?”

            	“I think so,” Escher said with a smile.  “But Mahogany will want to go over it only once.”

            	“So back to the galley?” Rarity asked.

            	“No, Topaz is already waiting with Mahogany and Captain Yancey in his cabin.  I think we’re going to want to convince him to check out the island.”

            	“Lead the way,” Rarity said.

            	The captain’s cabin was just down the hall.  Escher knocked politely, waiting for the muted invitation from inside before pushing the door open.  Inside was a well-apportioned chamber, with woven wool tapestries covering the wall, and a miniature canopy bed in the corner. Captain Yancey stood behind a small, square map table, covered in documents.  Standing around the table were Topaz and Mahogany.  Topaz looked worried, but Mahogany appeared businesslike.  He barely spared Lofty a nod, before turning to Rarity.

            	“You are the one they call Rarity, correct?  The one they say lived with Twilight Sparkle and the other Elements?”

            	“I am, darling.”

            	“Mahogany, Imperial Intelligence Service.”  He held out a hoof for her to shake.  “We found something that might be interesting to you.  I managed to retrieve this document from the Diarchy Embassy in Jubilation.  It was in the possession of a Sir Brightblade, before he was banished from Jubilation by decree of the council.  Have a look.”

            	He slid a piece of paper over to Rarity, who picked it up with a blue glow.  “Brightblade.  You are authorized to begin excavation of ‘the Cat’s Claw’.  We must find the Element room again. Send word when you’ve breached it.”  She looked up, surprised.  “It’s signed by ‘Sir Steadfast’.  This seems at least to be confirmation of what we’ve been suspecting.”  She placed the note back on the table.  “Captain Yancey, we have a request for you.  We need to make a bit of a detour towards this ‘Cat’s Claw’ island.  What did the locals call it?”

            	“Makucha Ya Paka,” Lofty supplied.

            	“Yes, that.  It shouldn’t be too far out of our path, should it?” Rarity asked.

            	“It wouldn’t be far out of our course,” Captain Yancey said.  “But Captain Yancey’s orders did not include side trips.  Captain Yancey is supposed to deliver the prisoners to Shining’s Bay, not go on adventures.”

            	“Captain, I don’t know if this overextends my authority, but would it help if I gave permission?  In my role as a d-duchess?” Topaz seemed to struggle to push the word out.

            	“Captain Yancey would need to know why we’re going to this island, first.  And what sort of opposition we’re likely to face.”  The captain stomped a firm hoof on the ground for emphasis.  “Captain Yancey and Pearl Shimmer’s crew are brave and capable, but we are not a warship.”

            	“I may be able to help assuage your worries,” Mahogany said.  “While I was infiltrating the Diarchy Embassy, I was a fly on the wall of one of their meetings.  It seems they’re pulling off of the island.  They cancelled their excavation orders in the wake of Brightblade and Mercy Song’s banishment, and are recalling their personnel back to the Diarchy.  Jubilation demanded it, and they’re doing their best to smooth out the waves they made with Brightblade’s little tantrum in the Treaty Hall.”

            	“Or it’s all still some sort of elaborate trap,” Topaz said darkly.  Mahogany’s face turned thoughtful, and he idly tapped a hoof on the table.

            	“Possibly.  However, my gut tells me that there’s more at play here.  The impression that I got was that the Knights assigned to the embassy long-term are at odds with those that came in to look for you ponies and the Elements.  Brightblade and his party have disrupted years of work opening the Jubilation council to a closer connection with Diarchy diplomacy and trade.  From what I saw, they were barely objecting to Mercy and Brightblade’s ejection from Jubilation.”

            	“What does that mean for us?” Rarity asked. 

            	“It might not be a trap, but we still could see some action,” Mahogany said.  “I doubt we’ll get some sort of organized resistance to our exploring the island, but we should be on our guard.”

            	“Please, Topaz.  Please, Captain Yancey.  We need what Captain Celeano hid on that island,” Rarity begged.  “We promise this isn’t some sort of silly escape attempt for our prisoners.  We just need to at least try.”

            	“Captain Yancey is inclined to try,” the yak captain said slowly.  “Pearl Shimmer is a fast ship, but she is a cargo ship.  Not for fighting.  We only have four guns.”

            	“If we are attacked, I expect us to retreat,” Rarity agreed.  “No heroics, no danger.”

            	“Very well, Rarity.  Pearl Shimmer will join you on your treasure hunt.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	Dawn the next morning broke with a flurry of noise and activity.  Lofty awoke to True buzzing about the cabin, impatiently waiting to go up on deck and see all the activity.

            	“Wuz goinon?” Topaz moaned from her bunk, groggy and in a fog as True’s antics roused her from her own bunk.  She blinked bleary eyes, then smiled at Lofty when she finally did manage to focus.  “It’s too early, isn’t it?”

            	“No such luck,” Lofty mock-lamented.  “I was about to take True up on deck, as long as he promises to stay out of the sailors’ way.”

            	“I promise, I promise!”

            	“So you’re taking the noise with you?  Fine by me.” Topaz rolled over, curling the blanket about her as she turned her back to Lofty.

            	Lofty laughed.  “C’mon, True.  Let’s let Topaz sleep in a bit.”

            	The foal was practically bouncing off the walls as they walked down the narrow hallway towards the stairs that led up to the deck.  Lofty watched his son with more than a little wonder; to him this was all some grand, exciting adventure. True had no real grasp of the danger they were all constantly in.  Lofty was fine with that.  It was better that True didn’t have to live with the worry he felt every day, the second-guessing, the endless replay of ‘what-if’s that made him wonder if Grace hadn’t been right all along.

            	On deck, most of the other Knights were up and about.  Emberglow, strangely enough, was helping the sailors with their work.  Terminus was airborne, moving about the higher rigging as he kept watch on the docks.  Lofty moved up to Emberglow, keeping a hoof on True so he didn’t run and get underhoof.

            	“Good morning.  I didn’t know you were a sailor.”  Emberglow was helping to coil a rope, using a careful figure eight pattern.

            	“I hunted pirates for several weeks, remember?  I tried to be helpful when I could, but mostly I’m just good for menial stuff.”  Her voice dropped.  “Work helps me not think about things.”

            	“Anything you want to talk about?”

            	“No,” Emberglow said.  “But True, would you like to learn how to tie some sailor knots?”

            	She was avoiding whatever was bothering her, obviously, but True cheered with glee, so Lofty didn’t see the point in trying to press her further.  If he had to guess, it probably had something to do with what Terminus had told him back in Jubilation, about how she’d gone berserk before their capture.

            	“Yeah, yeah!” True bounced up and down.

            	“Well, let’s find a spare bit of line, then.”

            	There were enough nearby sailors that it was easy enough to find a bit of rope not in use.  Some of them even looked on in amusement, glancing from their flurry of tasks to watch the tiny sailor-in-training tie his first knots.  Emberglow was a good teacher, too; True was engaged and enjoying himself, asking curious questions and cackling with delight as each knot took shape.

            	“You really learned more than you implied while you were off chasing pirates,” Lofty noted, as Emberglow demonstrated a bowline knot for True.

            	She snorted with laughter.  “If you think that, watch one of the sailors tie knots.  They do everything I do, just tighter, better, one-hoofed and in a quarter of the time.  Watch.”  Lofty glanced around him, and indeed, was able to spot a sailor tying the very same knot to a post of some sort in a fraction of the time Emberglow had.  “They’re mostly just letting me help to humor me.”

            	Lofty didn’t think the sailors minded that much.  Though they didn’t have the same sort of worshipful deference he was used to in the Diarchy, they were still getting curious glances and polite interest.  It was nice, actually, to just be treated like an interesting pony, rather than a figure of devotion, a living symbol of the Saints.

            	“Listen up, sailors!”  The booming voice of the captain broke him from his contemplation.  Captain Yancey stood on deck, just behind the ship’s wheel.  “We’re just about ready to leave port!  We’re on a schedule, and there could be danger ahead.  Captain Yancey needs all eyes sharp and all hooves quick.  This could be the most important voyage we’ve ever taken together, so Captain Yancey asks for the best you’ve got.  Not that you’ve ever given me less than that.”

            	The sailors never paused in their tasks, but they let out a cheer.  One of the sailors, a tall, muscular crystal pony mare, pulled out a drum and began pounding out a rhythmic beat.  Her voice cut over the din and chaos of the sailors' work as she started to sing a sea shanty.

It didn’t take long for Lofty to realize what the sailors were singing about.  If the lyrics had not been couched in such colorful metaphor, he would have considered covering True’s ears.  The foal was laughing and clapping along with the innuendo-ridden sea shanty.  Lofty and Emberglow shared a look.  Emberglow’s face was much pinker than usual.

            	“Weigh anchors, sailors! Hoist the sails!  We’re on our way home!”  Captain Yancey’s order to depart was met by a chorus of cheers, again.  The ship slowly pulled away from the dock, and Lofty guided his son over to the railing at the side of the ship.  He kept a protective hoof on the foal as he helped him lean up against the railing, to watch the dock retreating into the distance.

            	“I’m not sad to see it go,” Emberglow whispered next to him.  Lofty nodded.  He hadn’t suffered here like she had, but his brief time in Jubilation had been rife with chaos and fear.  He hoped the Empire would be safer, especially for True.  Topaz had assured him it would be.  “I hope we find the Element.  I’d rather not come back.  Ever.”

            	“You know what, though?” Lofty had to look on the bright side.  It was odd to hear her disparage the town, when only a day ago Rarity had been talking about how romantic it could have been.  “At least it brought us all together.  So there’s that.”

            	“Sure,” Emberglow gave a humorless laugh.  “Thanks, Jubilation.  Out of all the awful things you piled on us, at least you did one thing right.”

            	Even so, they stood at the railing as the ship pulled out of the dock, and until it was a dwindling speck on the horizon.  True had long since grown bored of watching the city retreat behind them, and instead was now following Topaz around the ship, asking sailors if they needed any help tying knots.  The pace of activity on deck had slowed enough that he wasn’t in the way, and nearly all the crusty sea creatures lit up with delight, happy to let the foal ‘help’.  He did, however, see them fixing any knots True tied as soon as the foal was out of sight.

            	“So,” Lofty began, eyeing his old friend sideways.  “I never got to ask about the eye.”

            	Emberglow flinched.  “Battle wound.  I got slashed, trying to defend Rarity, Terminus, and another Knight from an Adamant.”

            	“You okay?”

            	“It's fine.  I was never much of a fighter anyways.”

            	Lofty regretted bringing the subject up.  Sometimes Knights would brag about their scars and their war-wounds, telling thrilling tales of their adventures.  “Sorry I asked, Emberglow.”

            	“What?” Emberglow jerked.  “Oh, no, don’t feel bad.  It’s fine, I don’t mind that you asked.  It was a difficult day, though.  Rarity had just rescued me from…” a haunted look crossed her good eye, and she shuddered.  “From Brightblade.  I was being t-tortured.  We escaped but were being chased.  I thought that when I went back to stop our pursuit, I’d die.  I did, actually.  For a few seconds.  My heart stopped.”

            	“You… what?”

            	She laughed at his expression.  “Lightning.  I messed with the clouds.  It was the only way to win.  The others saved my life.”

            	“You know you get a really cute look on your face when you talk about Rarity?” Lofty felt the need to change the subject.  Emberglow was already morose, and it was time to cheer her up.  The question worked; Emberglow’s eyes shot wide, and her face turned even pinker.

            	“I… I do?”

            	“Oh yeah,” Lofty smirked.  “Tell me about you and her.”

            	“It’s nothing, yet.”  Emberglow looked away.

            	“But it could be?”

            	“I think so.”  Her voice was tiny and hopeful.

            	“Good for you.”  Lofty grinned.  “I haven’t known her long, but she seems like a good pony.”  He felt the need to tease, though.  “Kinda makes you rejecting me feel a little bit better, you know?  If the only pony good enough for you is a literal Saint.”

            	“Shut up, you,” Emberglow scowled, but she wasn’t angry.  “Go swab a deck or something.”

            	“Aye aye, captain,” he laughed, and she shoved him gently with one hoof.  “I was actually about to go check on Rarity.  She’s probably working with Starlight.  Want to come with?”

            	Emberglow grimaced and looked away.  “I… no.  I can’t.  Not while she’s using the construct.  It’s… shameful to be jealous of a magical toy, isn’t it?”

            	“I…”

            	“Nevermind, Lofty.  Don’t worry about it.”  She smiled back at him as she spread her wings.  “I’m going to go talk to the captain a bit.  I want to see if there’s anything more I can do to help.  Thanks for the talk.”

            	“Sure,” Lofty said, and Emberglow fluttered her wings enough to fly over to the captain, who was still behind the ship’s wheel.  “Have fun.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	It was the sound of cannon fire that roused Lofty from his light doze.  He’d been doing his best to help Rarity and Starlight with their work.  Even Escher had joined in, though he was mostly just listening, like Lofty.

            	“Was that…” Rarity’s ears perked at the sound, but Lofty and Escher both were already rushing out of the cabin, sprinting towards the deck, with Escher just slightly behind his friend.

            	The deck was a mass of shouting.  Captain Yancey was at the wheel, with Emberglow right next to him.  He was about to run up, to ask what was going on, when Terminus landed right in front of him, his hooves slamming against the deck with a bang.

            	“Lofty!  Great, you’re here.  Escher, too.  Your uncle was looking for you.  I think he’s up in the crow’s nest.”

            	“What’s the situation?” Lofty asked, as Escher’s carapace split to reveal his wings.  He buzzed up to the crow’s nest, where Lofty could see the two changelings enter into an animated discussion.

            	“Diarchy ship.  Hiding behind one of the barrier islands.  They’re fast, too, and from the looks of things, better armed.  I need—” he cut off as a whistling sound filled the air, followed by a massive splash to the port side of the ship.  “Damn, they’re getting closer.  I need you to get your gauntlet and secure the civilians.  Probably in one of the cabins.  Strongest shield spells you know.”

            	“Yes, sir!  Civilians?”

            	“Topaz, Rarity, and your son,” Terminus clarified.

            	“You know where True and Topaz are?”

            	“No, I don’t,” Terminus shot back, and Lofty felt an icicle of fear stab his chest.

            	“If you see them, send them to our cabin!” Lofty called.  He was already turning and sprinting downstairs, to search for them.  Last he knew, Topaz and True had been on deck, talking to sailors.  They were nowhere in sight, now.

            	He didn’t bother with the stairs, instead simply leaping down them in one bound, bending his knees at the bottom to cushion the sharp impact.  He stopped at Rarity and Emberglow’s cabin first, throwing the door open.

            	Starlight was gone, but Rarity was hastily tossing all of their notes and the construct into her bags.

            	“Rarity, have you seen my son?  And Topaz?”

            	“I heard some commotion from your cabin next door.  I was about to go check on them.”

            	“Come with me.  I’m supposed to shield you all in our cabin,” Lofty said.  Rarity moved to follow, then hesitated.  “Please.”

            	“I’m going up on deck,” she said.  “I can do more from up there.  What’s the use of all this knowledge, all this power Twilight has given me, if not to defend?”

            	“Rarity, I…”

            	“Hurry, darling.  Find your family.  I’ll try to keep us all safe from up top.”

            	From the set of her jaw and the stern look in her eyes, Lofty was sure he wouldn’t win the argument.  So he simply nodded, rushing to the next door while Rarity dashed up the stairs and out into the battle above.  He wrenched the door open, heart pounding and hoping.

            	Topaz was there, and he nearly cheered in relief.  She was in the corner, close to the door, and had curled her entire body around a wriggling toddler.  True was safe, too.

            	“Thank the Saints,” he gasped.

            	“Lofty!” Topaz cried out.  “You’re safe!  I… sorry.  I wanted to find you, but I had True with me and—”

            	“You did exactly the right thing.”  He rushed to the cabin’s chest, where his armor was stored, and pulled out his gauntlet.  Slipping it on as quickly as possible, he began casting runes.  He cast two spells: a shield that would form a bubble of protective force around the three of them, and a second, more subtle spell to reinforce the walls and ceiling from collapse.  Only when the second spell snapped into place, filling the room with a silvery glow of magic, did Lofty take a moment to breathe.

            	“Can you help me with the rest of my armor?” he asked, in the false calm that followed.  “I don’t think we’re out of the fire yet, so to speak.”

 
> Chapter 48
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 48


Letter, unsent.  Sealed in the Imperial Crystal Library.  Date unknown but assumed to be prior to the death of Twilight Sparkle.

 

Dear Princess Twilight,

Your last letter was like a breath of life to these old bones.  I can’t express how much your continued friendship has meant to me in my sunset years.  My lungs are finally failing, and the doctors have said there is nothing more they can do.  This may very well be my last letter to you.

If it is so, I wish to unburden myself before I pass.  You see, I have hidden something from you for decades.  The last time you visited, you asked if I had seen Starlight Glimmer since you and she fought over her use of dark magic to prolong her life.  I told you I had not.  This was a prevarication.

I saw her once, nearly fifteen years ago.  I went with Trixie to search for her, following a tip I received from another old friend of yours, a pegasus mare named Yearling.  We did not tell you at the time, because I know you and Trixie had not been getting along.  (I don’t know if she ever managed to reconcile with you before she died, Twilight, but you should know that Trixie regretted the wedge that had grown between the two of you, even asking me to secure your forgiveness.  To my shame I left it undone until now.  Please forgive me as well.)

We located Starlight in the Badlands.  She had found a repository of old Changeling lore, histories and records written down by Chrysalis’ predecessor.  She was doing magical research, still trying to follow some lead or other into Rarity’s disappearance.  I have no idea what she sought, exactly, only that we caught her just as she was about to leave.

She was in a sorry state, Your Highness.  She barely remembered Trixie, and she’d forgotten most of our childhood, remembering only parts of our shared history as adults.  I must admit it broke my heart.  We had not been romantically involved for decades, but it still hurt to know she didn’t remember any of our first kiss, the first time we’d made love, or even what we’d planned to name the foal before Starlight miscarried.

We begged her to return with us, to come back to you, to Ponyville, that all would be forgiven.  We even promised to help in her fruitless search for Rarity.  She told us our promises were empty, and that we wasted our time.  Before I could stop her she’d teleported away.

The whole experience filled me with a renewed sense of purpose.  For the last several years, even after Trixie’s passing, I’ve been working on a way to help her.  I have long since realized I will never be able to see my plan put into motion myself, but I am proud to tell you that I have come up with something that might help.

Do you remember Somnambula’s theory on the recurrence of souls?  The unproven idea that a pony’s soul, when deceased, may sometimes find its way into a newborn body, with no memories of its past life?  I have long wondered why she always seemed so sure that she was correct, or why august ponies such as her fellow Pillar, Starswirl, or even Princess Cadance, seemed so ready to agree with the possibility.  I have decided, however, to trust in their faith and put my plan into motion.

I am anchoring a combination of four spells to my soul.  If indeed Somnambula is correct, and I will be reborn as a new pony some time after I die, then the spells should still be attached to me.  If I am correct, we shall not only prove her theory true, we shall also have a way to help Starlight in her pain.  For her condition will only worsen, until she is nothing more than a pile of bones with a mission and no memories.

The spells are Paladin Pride’s Holy Shroud (which, as you well know, makes a shield from dark magic) Starswirl’s Persistent Permanence (a binding enchantment used usually to make magical artifacts.  I have modified it to effect something a little more ephemeral than an amulet or a silly sword), Clover the Clever’s own Memory Lock, and a heavily modified version of the very spell you and Starswirl collaborated on, the one that led to your ascension.

If my calculations are correct, these four spells will bind to my soul.  When I am reborn, my new self will be destined to encounter Starlight.  By my very presence, she may be shielded from her own folly and begin to regain what she, in her grief and loss, chose to give up.  

You and I both know this won’t fix Starlight, or give her back what she sacrificed.  But if I’m right, we can provide her with enough lucidity and clarity to find some measure of peace and rest.

After I am gone, Princess Twilight, I beg you; look for my reincarnation.  Find the pony that bears my soul.  Help them to help Starlight.

As always, you have been a true friend to me.  If this is truly to be my last words to you, please know that I have always held you in the highest regard.  If the opinion of an old, dried up imposter wizard means anything, you have been truly the greatest leader we could ever hope for.

Signed,

Sunburst

The High Seas, 1113 AF

“They’re right behind us!” Captain Yancey bellowed.  Even with his powerful voice, it was still nearly impossible to hear over the sounds of the splashing waves and the wind rushing in Emberglow’s ears.  “Are there no tricks you Knights can do?”

“Sorry!” Emberglow shouted back.  “I don’t know any maritime spells.  It wasn’t my focus!  Heartwing might know!”

“You mean the prisoner?  But Captain Yancey can’t just—"

A loud explosion came from the pursuing ship, and a cannonball sent up a huge splash of water, just behind them.  Sailors gasped in fright as they rushed about with their tasks, trying desperately to keep Pearl Shimmer going just as fast as the wind would allow.  Rarity stood at the stern of the ship, her horn glowing.  Emberglow’s heart pounded with worry for her, but there was nothing she could do without upsetting her.

“Captain Yancey, he’s the oldest, wiliest, most experienced Knight alive.  If anypony knows something that will get us out of this chase, it will be him.”

“But Captain Yancey is responsible!  If I let the prisoner out, he could break loose and escape!”

“And if we all go down?  If the ship sinks?”

The captain only needed a moment to ponder.  “Captain Yancey has your word that he will return to custody when we are out of danger?”

“I promise, captain.  I’ll make sure of it myself.”

“Very well.  Captain Yancey trusts you, pink pegasus.”  He took a hoof off the wheel long enough to fish a ring of brass keys out of his pocket.  “Please don’t let Captain Yancey down.”

“No, sir, I won’t.”  Emberglow reached out for the keys.

Just then, another air-shattering boom made the timbers of the ship tremble, and there was a flash of blue light.  For an instant, Emberglow saw Rarity’s horn blaze like an inferno, as a blue sphere appeared around the ship.  A cannonball struck the shield hard, exploding in the air as bits of it rained down into the ocean behind them.

At the same time the ship lurched, and everypony stumbled to the right.  Captain Yancey had to steady Emberglow with a hoof, before she could spread her wings herself, just giving herself enough lift to keep her balance on the wildly rolling deck.  She grabbed the keys he offered in one hoof, clutching them tightly.

“Your unicorn friend looks tired.  Captain Yancey doesn’t know how much longer she can keep things going.  Hurry, please, pink pegasus.”

Emberglow rushed to the stairs that descended below the quarter deck, wrenching the door open as quickly as she could.  Her eyes drifted to the Diarchy vessel in close pursuit, and the figure of a purple armored Knight on deck.  Emberglow didn’t need to look more closely to know who it was; the terrified drumbeat of her heart was all she needed.

She spared one last glance back at the stern, to Rarity’s back.  Good luck, she mouthed.  Stay safe.  She knew Rarity couldn’t see, but it felt better.  Like a prayer.

Emberglow raced down the stairs and into the hallway that led to the galley, and from there to the hold, where Heartwing was still being kept in the ship’s makeshift brig.  She ran past the room where Lofty, Topaz, and True stayed, gratified to see the gentle glow of a shield spell surrounding the room.  Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check.

“Lofty?  Everything still okay in there?” she called, tapping on the door.

“We’re fine, Emberglow.  What’s the situation up top?”

“They’re closing on us.  Rarity is fending off the cannon fire, but we need Heartwing.  Captain Yancey gave me permission to free him.”

“Are they close enough to see who’s on board?” Lofty sounded worried.  “Did you see Lady Mercy?”

Of course he’d be worried about facing off against his old mentor.  “No.  I didn’t see her on board.  Just Brightblade.”  She was proud of herself for not stumbling over his name.

“Good luck, then.”

She knocked on the door again in farewell, then ran down the hallway, through the empty galley, and tossed open the hatch leading into the belly of the ship.  She dove inside, spreading her wings as soon as she was through the tiny portal in order to bypass the awkward ladder going down.

Inside the cargo hold, it was nearly pitch black.  Emberglow could still hear the battle above, but it was faint, muted by several layers of wood and muffled by sloshing from the ship’s bilge water.

“Is somepony there?” Heartwing called from the other end.  “The last lurch tossed my lantern to the floor.  I’d just use my horn, but…”

“I’ll be there in a second, Heartwing,” Emberglow called.  She landed, trying to move with the lurching and swaying of the ship, and raised her gauntlet to cast.   A second later an orb of white light floated in the air above her, spilling illumination throughout the piles of crates and various supplies.  In the far end, she could see Heartwing in his brig, still wearing his hoof shackles and horn ring.  “I convinced the captain we need your help.  I did swear an oath that you’d go back to prison as soon as we were safe, though.”

“I can live with that,” Heartwing said eagerly.  “You have the keys?”

“Yes, right—”

A deafening crash shook through Pearl Sunset’s hull, causing the ship to jerk.  Emberglow fluttered her wings, managing to not be dashed to the floor like Heartwing’s lantern, but the keys weren’t so lucky.  They slipped out of her hoof and splashed into the brackish water at her hooves.

“Oh for the love of…” Heartwing moaned.

“It’s okay, I’ll find them!” Emberglow looked about, her orb of summoned light staying just behind her head as she desperately cast about for the keys.  The water was just deep enough, and the darting, spinning shadows just dark enough, that she couldn’t quite see where they had landed.  “Do you see them?”

“I can barely see anything with your light moving about like that!” Heartwing cried.  “Can’t you hold it still?”

“Not if I want to keep looking, I can’t!” She ran her hooves through the water, feeling rather than looking.  “Just see if you can spot the light glinting off the metal!”

Emberglow felt around in the water, running her hooves over the floor, splashing through the water.  Her heart pounded; every second wasted because of her stupid fumble was another second Rarity and the others were in danger.  But there was nothing but water and wood under her hooves. 

“Where could it have—”

“Is that it?” Heartwing called out.  She glanced over; he was pointing with a hoof behind a crate.  It was possible; it could have slid with the rolling of the ship.  She ran over to check.  As soon as her light rounded the corner of the crate, she could see the glint of the metal.  She reached down to snatch it up.

There was a terrifying crunch, and suddenly the hull just above her head indented inwards, wood cracking and splintering.  Emberglow gave a little shriek and jerked away, but besides the three or four streams of water now squirting through at high pressure, nothing else happened.  She took a few deep breaths and grabbed the keys.

“That was close,” Heartwing said.  “You okay?”

“Yes.  But now water’s coming in!” Emberglow backed away from the hissing streams.  Heartwing shrugged.

“Relax, it’s not much.  I’m sure—” there was another horrifying crunching noise, and the section cracking inwardly lurched another few inches.  The streams multiplied.  “Um.  Might want to get me out quick, please.  I’m not really a fan of drowning.”

Emberglow darted over to the cage, her hooves shaking as she tried to shove the key into the padlock.  She was gripping the jingling ring tightly, so that it wouldn’t fall again and start this whole thing over, but it also meant that the tip of the key wouldn’t go into the lock like it was supposed to.

“Just put the long skinny bit into the hole, c’mon, this is basic birds-and-bees—”

“Can you not be lewd right now?” Emberglow screamed, and Heartwing gave a little laugh.

“Just trying to lighten the mood.”  She glared at his stupidly relaxed face, but he just grinned at her.  He seemed so confident, so trusting, that it managed to calm her hooves and her nerves just a little.  She gave a nervous little laugh of her own, and somehow managed to shove the key into the lock.  She turned it, and for a second thought maybe she’d gotten the wrong key.  But then the key twisted with a hard click, and the padlock burst open.  She ripped it out of its place and swung the door wide.

“Horn ring next,” Heartwing said, still calmly.  Emberglow spared a glance down at her hooves.  Was the water getting higher?  “No, don’t look at that.  Focus.  Once I can cast, everything gets better.”

“That’s e-easy for you to say,” Emberglow fumbled for the next key.  There were four on the ring, and the padlock for the cage had been the largest.  She had three other guesses.  She picked the smallest looking one, and held it up to the lock on his horn.  Heartwing lowered his head obligingly, and she slipped the key inside.  Far too small.

“If you don’t guess right next time, I’m going to make more innuendos,” Heartwing teased, and this time Emberglow laughed.  She got the next-largest key on the ring, and managed to slip it into the hole.  This one was right, and it turned with a mechanical click of its own.

The very second the mystical restraint opened on its hinge, Heartwing’s horn lit the room in a blaze of yellow.  Emberglow was sure he’d be taking the keys from her to unlock his shackles, but instead she saw a glowing yellow aura smother the broken, leaking hull, spreading over the entire area like a blanket.  The splintered, broken bits were forced back into place, though Emberglow was close enough to hear his grunt of effort.

“Lots of water p-pressure,” he managed, through gritted teeth.  “And… done!  Great!  Now a little repair spell…”

His eyes nearly crossed with the effort, the glow of his horn growing even larger, and Emberglow was reminded of watching Rarity rip the door of her cell out of place, just yesterday.

“Oh!” She realized she’d been staring, while Heartwing still had his hoof-shackles.  She fiddled with the keys, finding the third small key and undoing the shackles on his forehooves while he did his spell work.  She was going for his hindhooves when the golden aura surrounded the keys, taking them from her gently.

“Thank you, Emberglow,” he said, unlocking himself.  “Now, let’s go see how Rarity’s faring.”

“If a cannonball got through to hit the side of the ship…” Emberglow didn’t want to finish that thought.

“Rarity is fine, Emberglow,” he said, as they splashed through the water out of his cell.  Emberglow couldn’t help but glance at the place where he’d repaired the hull; it wasn’t a perfect fix; she could still see the cracks, and a trickle of water seeping through.  “She’s a powerful unicorn now.  She’s just not perfect, or as practiced, just yet.  She probably just missed one.”

“Right.”  Emberglow didn’t even bother to hide her skepticism.

They rushed to the hatch, making their way up the ladder and into the galley.  It was no longer empty; there were two crystal pony sailors and one of the diamond dogs, laying on hastily set-up triage beds on the ground.  All of them were wounded.  Topaz and one of the other sailors were already seeing to them.

“I…” Emberglow moved to help, but Topaz was already holding up a hoof.

“Nothing life threatening,” Topaz breathed.  She was panting, resting for a moment.  Emberglow guessed she’d helped move the wounded.  “Just some shrapnel from where a cannonball wrecked one of the side railings.  We’ll do first aid, you just head up on deck.  They need your help.”

“Lofty?  True?” Emberglow asked.  Topaz laughed, and pointed at one of the tables.  Emberglow could see True poking his little head out, watching all of this with wide eyes.  Starlight was there as well, wrapping a bony leg around him to keep him steady.

“True is in good hooves,” Topaz said.  “Lofty is on deck, helping with the shield work.”

“Emberglow,” Heartwing said.  “Come.  They’ll be fine here.  Let’s end this chase.”

She wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but she followed him on deck.

Above decks was loud.  Sailors shouted to each other, not in chaos, but in the call-and-response cadence of a sailing ship at work, despite the desperate circumstances.  Captain Yancey’s voice boomed over everything, calling orders while keeping a firm hoof on the wheel.  It was all like a very noisy machine.

Emberglow stepped out onto the deck, and the wind from the quickly moving ship caught her, and she had to extend her wings to help keep from swaying and stumbling.  Quickly she looked to the stern, where Rarity had been standing before.

Terminus and Lofty stood on either side of Rarity’s slumped form, gauntlets moving almost in tandem as they cast shield spells together.  They were doing their best to conserve their battery power, Emberglow realized, by holding their spells until the last second right before the cannonball got too close.  It was a risky tactic, but one that would hopefully pay out for them in the long run.

Emberglow, however, was more worried about the figure between them.  She rushed over, weaving through the busy sailors as best as she could, with Heartwing trailing close behind. She could see Rarity’s mane and tail, sodden with seawater and weighted down.  Rarity’s back was to them, and Emberglow couldn’t even tell if Rarity was awake.  She thundered up the short steps to the raised stern, and nearly cried out with joy when Rarity raised her head.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, darling.  Just taking a little breather.”  Emberglow had to stop herself from raising a hoof to confirm with a diagnosis spell.  They had other things to worry about, regardless of what Emberglow’s personal priorities might be.

"Lofty, Terminus, good work on that shielding,” Heartwing said, and Emberglow could hear the change in his voice from friend to military commander.  “Lofty, I’m going to need you to keep it up on your own for a bit.  I need to borrow Terminus for a plan.”

“Is this the sort of plan we need the Captain’s permission for, sir? Or that maybe we should warn him about?” Terminus managed to sound both amused and wary.

“Easier to ask forgiveness than permission, love.” Heartwing’s grin was from ear to ear, before he turned to Emberglow with a more serious expression.  “Now Emberglow.  Did they teach you combat weather magic in the Ivy Seminary?”

“Combat weather magic…” Emberglow blinked.  “Sir, weather classes were optional.  An elective.  I focused on…”

“On Radiant stuff, yeah, yeah,” Heartwing waved a hoof dismissively.  “You’ll have to pick it up on the fly, so to speak.”  He waggled an eyebrow and laughed at his own pun.  “Now Rarity, have you accomplished fine control over the shape and size of your shields, yet?  Can you make, say, a cone?  And can you make it permeable to ponies, but not to water or cannonballs?”

“I can try, darling, but I don’t know how long I can hold it.”

“Only for a few minutes,” Heartwing said.  “Our pegasi friends are going to get rid of our pursuit.  Do you remember when Cloudsdale would hold tornado day?”

“You mean that huge to-do where they’d round up all the pegasi in a region to…” Rarity’s eyes shot wide.  “Oh!”

“It won’t be huge, because there’s only two of them.  I just need a shield in place so it doesn’t get out of hand and come after us.”

“I’m sure between the two of us, we can keep it in check.”

“I’ll be trying to steer the thing, Rarity.  You’ll need to manage the shield on your own.”

“I suppose I can do my best, but—”

“Wait!” Emberglow shouted.  “I have no idea what the plan is!”

In the short silence that followed, Lofty swore loudly, barely finishing his spell in time to block the latest volley.  “Figure it out fast!”

“Emberglow!” Terminus called.  “We’re making a cyclone.  Follow me and fly hard!  Stay in my draft until we get far enough away from the ship.  Rarity will keep it contained, and Heartwing will steer it into the ship chasing us!”

 Oh.  Well, that made sense.  But she’d never—

“Go!” Terminus shouted, and Emberglow was startled into flight.  She followed right behind him, wings beating hard.  A cyclone.  They were going to make a cyclone.

“Crazy ponies!” she could hear Captain Yancey shouting behind them.  “What are crazy ponies planning?”

“Don’t worry!” Terminus shouted, his voice carried back by the wind as they pushed in front of the ship.  It took Emberglow a moment to realize he was talking to her, not to Captain Yancey.  “Your part will be easy!”

The easy part.  Of starting a cyclone.  A giddy little panic-laugh bubbled out of her, which of course Terminus didn’t hear.

Suddenly he pulled up, looking back towards the ship.  “Far enough to be safe.  Now quickly.  We need to fly in a circle, looping around each other.  Stay low to the ocean at first, then watch for my signal to begin rising in elevation.  Our pegasus magic will start to raise the water in a cyclone, and Rarity’s magic will keep it contained.  Keep the cycle tight, and keep your balance.  If you spin out, don’t try to rejoin without picking up some speed first.”

Emberglow’s mind was spinning.  She’d never really done weather work before, so she wasn’t sure what he was talking about.  Her pegasus magic would start to raise the cyclone? What was—

“Sorry, we don’t have more time to practice.  Now, fly!”

He started out slow, giving her a few seconds to see what he meant.  But the ships were fast approaching, and soon enough both she and Terminus were flying as quickly as they could. 

As her wings burned with the effort of their sprint, Emberglow suddenly felt something.  It was a strange sort of sensation, similar to the buildup of pressure that happened right before releasing a rune spell.  Only instead of building, it flowed out of her, reaching towards the air, the clouds above, even the sea below them.

“That’s it!  Now push yourself!  Pick up the pace!”

Emberglow was already going pretty fast, but she grit her teeth and pushed harder.  She could feel the magic pulling at the water as they spun in the air.

There was magic in the air around them, a blue glow that Emberglow recognized as Rarity’s aura.  She couldn’t look over, though.  Or even look at the approaching ships.  Suddenly the centrifugal force was pulling her sideways, tugging her out, wanting to toss her aside like a rag doll.  Now, it wasn’t about flying fast; now she was hanging on for dear life.

“Hold on, Emberglow, it’s rising!”  She could barely hear him over the sound of the wind and the rush of the water shooting up between them.  “We’ve got it, just a little longer!”

Emberglow’s wings ached.  She could feel her feathers tingling.  Ocean spray was getting into her eyes, but she couldn’t close them or blink away the sting; one misstep meant a spinout, or worse, a collision with Terminus.  One more loop, she told herself.  One more loop.  And after that, just one more loop.  She hurt all over.

“As soon as Pearl Shimmer passes us, we’re releasing the cyclone.  You’re gonna be dizzy, but you need to gain altitude to get out of the way!”

Emberglow barely registered his words.  Her head pounded, her breath came in ragged, desperate gasps, and her every muscle ached.  Her wings felt like they were about to fall off.  She couldn’t even look to see how close the ship was.

“Okay, break off!”

Emberglow let the force of her momentum toss her away from the roaring cyclone.  She spun through the air, and for one nauseous moment, she couldn’t tell which way was up and which was down.  The blue of the sky and the blue of the sea became the same grey blur as she spun.  Swirls and spirals of unconsciousness danced at the edges of her vision, and she felt herself slipping into…

“Emberglow, even out!  Recover, recover!”

Hearing Terminus’ voice was just what Emberglow needed to orient herself, and with one last surge of her wings, she managed to pull out of her spin and right herself.  Terminus hovered in the air just above her.  She joined him, wings aching, her vision still spinning, though at least the sea and the air were in the right spots.

“Now watch this.  Heartwing’s gonna put his master’s touch on this little plan.”

Emberglow followed Terminus’ pointing hoof, to see the cylinder of cerulean light containing a raging cyclone of spinning water.  She could see Pearl Shimmer, just below them.  And closing fast was the Diarchy ship.  The cerulean light blinked out, and the entire cyclone glowed yellow.  Emberglow could see Heartwing by his glowing horn, still standing on Pearl Shimmer’s stern.

The cyclone was already moving of its own accord, twisting and spinning about chaotically.  But then it stretched and squirmed and split, one cyclone becoming two.  Then it split again, becoming four.  Golden veins of magic pulsed through all four cyclones as they jerked and spasmed towards the enemy ship. 

“C’mon.  Fly slow and carefully.  You did good.”

“I… are they going to be okay?” Emberglow eyed the Diarchy ship.

“We had to defend ourselves, Emberglow,” Terminus said, and Emberglow flinched.  “If it helps, I think the cyclones might toss them around a bit and convince them not to come after us.  I can’t promise you nopony will be hurt, though.”

“It’s fine,” Emberglow breathed.  “Really, it is.  I don’t want to hurt anypony, but I will defend them.” She looked back to Pearl Shimmer, to where Rarity, Lofty, and Heartwing all stood.  She didn’t have to like it, but she’d do it.

The cyclones were approaching the enemy ship.   Emberglow could see the Knights on board scrambling to put up shields, and the sailors trying to turn their ship, but it was too late: the cyclones struck with the force of a cannonball.

The first one lifted out of the water, slowly dissipating its force into the air and sending water everywhere, but not before slicing through sails and rigging, leaving tattered threads and rags in its wake.  The next two unleashed their chaos on the deck of the ship, tossing about ponies and planks and lines like a pair of foals rampaging through a toy room.  The last nearly missed, seeming to bounce off the front of the boat, taking with it only the ship’s figurehead; a painted carving of Rainbow Dash.

“He probably did that on purpose, didn’t he?” Emberglow gasped, still trying to catch her breath. 

Terminus laughed, shrugging.  “Probably.  Let’s fly back.  We’ll have to fly a little hard to catch up.”

Emberglow wasn’t sure she could, but then Rarity waved from the deck of the ship, and she felt like maybe, just maybe, she’d have a second wind.


*   *   *   *   *


“Crazy ponies are crazy!” Captain Yancey was shouting as soon as Emberglow and Terminus landed on deck.  “A cyclone?  It could have gone anywhere!  The wind should have—”

“It doesn’t matter what direction the wind was blowing,” Heartwing interrupted him, slashing the air with a hoof.  “I was in control the whole time!”  His voice calmed.  “Besides, I had limited options.  Your ship doesn’t have rear-facing canons.  You barely have any armaments at all!  The only other option would have been to pull to one side for a broadside, and you saw how well armed the other ship was.  We would have been ripped to shreds.”

“Pearl Shimmer is built for speed, not for defense.  We’ve always been able to outrun pirates before.”

“That was a warship.  Maybe you could have outrun her in time, but not before my Knights ran out of motes for their shield spells.  How many holes did you want in Pearl Shimmer before you got away?  Including the hole in the bottom I patched up as soon as Emberglow got my magic suppressor off?”

Captain Yancey stared at Heartwing, hard.  Or at least Emberglow thought he was staring; it was hard to tell with his eyes mostly hidden by his bangs.  Then he began to laugh; a boisterous belly laugh that Emberglow could have sworn was shaking the deck of the ship.

“Very well, pony wizard.  Besides, for uncontrollable cyclones, they worked very well.  Impressive.  Fantastic!”  He closed the distance between them, so they were muzzle to muzzle.  “Don’t do it again.”

“Noted,” Heartwing smirked.  “So, are you going to put me back down in the cage again?”

“Pony wizard saved us all, and pony wizard hasn’t tried to escape or take control of Pearl Shimmer.  Does pony wizard promise not to try these things?  And to obey Captain Yancey’s orders?”

“I promise,” Heartwing said.  “You have nothing to fear from me, Captain Yancey.  I’ve always liked yaks.  They’ve got such a style to them.”

“Because YAKS are BEST!” The captain roared loudly, prompting both eye-rolls and cheers from the surrounding sailors, most of whom were still busy putting more distance between them and the disabled Diarchy ship.  “But, uh… you said a hole in the bottom of Captain Yancey’s ship?”

“I did an emergency patch job with my magic, and it will probably hold until we reach the Empire, but you’ll want to have a repair crew check it, to be sure,” Heartwing said.

“Captain Yancey will see to repairs when we reach the bay at Makucha ya Paka.  Captain Yancey assumes pony wizard would like to go on shore with the rest of his party?”

Heartwing hesitated.  “I thought your orders were—”

“Captain Yancey is captain. Captain Yancey will make decisions.  Pony wizard saved Captain Yancey’s ship.  However… unconventionally.  And pony wizard has given his word.  Pony wizard can go on shore.”

“We have to get there first,” Heartwing said.  “We know they were building an outpost on the island, even though the zebras didn’t like it.  What do you think the odds are that they don’t know we’re coming?”

Nopony said anything in the wake of that comment.

The next few hours were the calm after the storm.  Her friends were able to rest, and Emberglow had a chance to check on the wounded while the sailors did some minor repairs.  Emberglow was rather impressed with Topaz and the way she’d overseen the first aid of the wounded soldiers.

“Land ho!” came the sudden cry from up on the crow’s nest.  “Two nautical miles, forty degrees to starboard!”

“Is it our island?” Captain Yancey shouted up at the sailor.  There was a pause.

“Aye, Captain!  Makucha ya Paka!”

“Good stallion!  Keep a weather eye for more ships!”

“Nothing yet, Captain!”

Emberglow found herself lined up on deck with the other Knights, as well as Topaz and Rarity, watching in the distance as a crescent shaped island came into view over the waves.  It was low to the ocean, but slowly they could make out the central point: a raised ridge of jagged, tooth-like rock that broke out of the surf.

“Are we even sure this is where the song is pointing?” Lofty said, as they all stood at the railing and watched the island approach.

“It's the only lead we have,” Rarity replied.  “I have to have faith.  Otherwise Chip’s sacrifice…”

“If we find nothing, then we just continue on to the Empire,” Heartwing said.  “Princess Flurry will help us find the Element of Magic if we don’t find it here.”

“Oh, she will?” Terminus sounded a little bitter.  “Are you sure she won’t just throw you in a dungeon?”

“She’s too smart for that,” Topaz insisted.  “She wouldn’t.  You’re an Element of Harmony.  You’ll be needed to fix the world.”

“It sounds so wonderfully simple when you put it that way,” Heartwing smirked.  “But really, we’re borrowing trouble with this conversation.  Let’s just see what the Cat’s Claw holds, and then worry about what Princess Flurry may or may not do when she gets her hooves on me, hm?”

The Captain called the ship to a halt near the southern tip of the island; from this vantage point, they could see the beginnings of a structure on the opposite end.  Abandoned scaffolding and wood framework lay strewn about, discarded remains of the Diarchy outpost.  There were no ships around, though,, nor were there any ponies to be seen.  Heartwing and Terminus had both checked, using long range vision enchantments.  Captain Yancey had even retrieved a spyglass from the pocket of his coat.  The area was still.

The sailors prepared a rowboat for the land-bound ponies.  Heartwing even asked the Captain if he wanted to send any of his own sailors with them, to make sure he didn’t try to escape.

“Pony wizard will keep his word,” Captain Yancey said.  “Captain Yancey believes it.  And Captain Yancey is an excellent judge of character.”

With that, the sailors lowered them via pulleys to the ocean, and Heartwing and Lofty took turns rowing them to shore.

“We could help,” Topaz muttered as Emberglow and Terminus followed, flying overhead.

“Oh, let the boys row,” Rarity stage-whispered.  “It helps them feel all muscly and studly.”

Lofty blushed, but Heartwing gave a hearty laugh.

Honestly, Emberglow wished she was in the small rowboat, resting while others did all the work.  A few hours of rest weren’t enough after her desperate sprint.  But at least they weren’t flying for their lives.

The island loomed in front of them like a natural fortress; all grey stone and no greenery.  It was imposing and craggy, with sharp jutting rocks hiding all kinds of crannies.  There wasn’t much of a beach, only a few feet of rough, pebbly sand.  Emberglow wondered how the Diarchy marines had even found enough flat ground to build on.  They’d probably had to use stilts, or something.

Emberglow and Terminus landed ahead of the others, by unspoken agreement.  Terminus had left his long rifle on board the ship, bringing a spear instead.  Emberglow held only the shield she’d been gifted from Mlinzi.  Both of them did a quick reconnoiter of the small beach as the rowboat made the last few feet towards the shore. 

“Shore appears clear of the enemy, sir,” Emberglow said, as soon as the prow drove into the shore.  Heartwing stepped out and steadied the boat while the others disembarked.  “We can do a flyover, if you want.  See if there’s anything to see.”

“Stay within sight, and stay close to each other,” Heartwing said.  “Just get airborne enough to see if there’s any sort of cave or ruin.”

Terminus took off first, and Emberglow followed.  They did as Heartwing asked, flying just high enough to see over the jagged ridge of the island’s spine.  There was no cave that they could see, or ruins, but something caught her eye, something that made Emberglow’s breath freeze in her throat.

On the north end of the island, just south of the paused construction of the Diarchy outpost, stood Mercy Song.  She wore robes rather than armor, and carried a broken spear shaft in one hoof, topped with a white flag of truce.

“That can’t be good,” Terminus muttered.  Emberglow met eyes with the Diarchy Knight, her old friend, and Mercy Song nodded her way, then sat on the ground.  Emberglow shuddered.

“No, it can’t.  Terminus… I don’t want to talk to her.”

“I know, Emberglow.  Let’s go tell Heartwing.”

They flew back down to where the others waited on the shore.

“Bad news, sir,” Terminus said.  “Diarchy Knight, flying a flag of truce.  Just south of their construction.  She appears alone, but there could be more hidden somewhere.”

“It was Mercy Song,” Emberglow said, and she saw Lofty stiffen.  Topaz leaned over and wrapped a hoof around him.

“She’s alone,” Starlight said, and everypony jumped.  She hadn’t been in the boat.

“Starlight?  Where’s True?” Lofty asked nervously.

“Captain Yancey is watching him.  True is now the honorary cabin boy,” Starlight said.  Her glowing eyes flickered a bit.  “The Knight is alone.  There’s nopony else here.  But ponies shouldn’t kill ponies.”

“Don’t worry, Starlight.  She’s flying a flag of truce.  We’ll honor it, as long as she keeps her end,” Heartwing said.  “Let’s see what she wants.  Lead the way, Terminus.”

They followed the inside curve of the tiny island, only a mile long, towards the half finished buildings.  Mercy Song had stepped out from the craggy rock face and onto the beach and was waiting for them as they approached.  She called out as soon as they were close enough to hear.

“I am unarmed.  I didn’t even bring my gauntlet.  I just want to talk to Emberglow and Lofty.  Alone, please.”

The six ponies exchanged glances, and something unspoken passed between them all. Everypony seemed to be waiting for something else to happen, though Heartwing’s expression was somehow knowing.  Emberglow felt a sort of pressure in the air, a weight of sorts.  And then Rarity spoke.

“I think not, whoever you are.”  Everypony’s eyes were drawn to Rarity.  An ocean breeze flowed past them, rustling Rarity’s mane like a pegasus’ feathers and bringing with it the scent of ocean air, and perhaps something more; a ghost of a scent, candle wax and old parchment.  “I told you the same thing back in Jubilation.  Whatever you have to say to one of us, you can say to all of us.  And I won’t let you hurt Emberglow anymore.  I think you should remember that conversation, too.”

Mercy flinched, clutching at one of her hooves.  “Very well, if you insist.”  She sighed, and her eyes found Lofty.  Emberglow stepped a little closer to her old friend.  “Lofty… I just wish I understood.”

“Do you even want to know?” Lofty shot back, sounding bitter.  Emberglow had to agree with the sentiment.  “The Knighthood is corrupt to the core.  The connected and wealthy are promoted over the skilled and dedicated.  The oaths are hardly followed, and then only when convenient.  And when I was forced to choose between what was right and honest, and what was expected, I was punished for making the correct choice.  Where are the Saints in all of this?”  Lofty spat.  “They’re dead.  All except Saint Rarity, here.  And it turns out the whole thing is just as fake as every fairy tale and fable that the Diarchy ever wrote about her.”

“Lofty, I…” Mercy looked awkwardly around at each of their silent faces.  “I heard about you and your son.  I’m sorry.  For what it’s worth, I think you made the right choice.”

“Your approval means nothing,” Lofty muttered, but Emberglow could tell it wasn’t entirely true.  “But is that really what you came here for?”

“No.  N-not really.”  Mercy’s eyes were wet.  “I… I had to try again.  Emberglow.  We need you.  Steadfast needs you.  Your parents, your friends, your Sisters all need you.”

“We had this conversation already,” Emberglow said, turning away.  “Did you forget how it ended?”

“Brightblade isn’t here this time!” Mercy Song said urgently.  Rarity’s horn lit up at the mention of Brightblade’s name, and Mercy backpedaled a few feet, eyes widening in fear.  “Really!  He has no idea I came.  We’re both heading back to New Canterlot City.  We’ve… been banished from Jubilation.”  She shivered and shook her head.  “That’s not important.  I’m not here to talk about Brightblade.”  She set her flag down on the ground, and lowered herself into a grovel.  “I’m here to beg, Emberglow.  We need you.”

“Why?” Emberglow breathed.

“Because…” her eyes darted between the assembled ponies in a spasm of fear and anger.  “Because of things I’ve sworn not to talk about in front of the uninitiated.  Things only you would understand.  Sister.”

“I… what?”

“I believe,” Heartwing drawled, “that she’s referring to some sort of secret the two of you share as Radiants.  Perhaps an oracle, hidden away in the basement of the Shrine of the Generous?”  Mercy Song made an outraged noise, but Heartwing laughed.  “Please.  The Discordant have known about that for centuries.  You know Emberglow isn’t the first of your Order to uncover the lies.  You know that horn doesn’t belong to Sweetie Belle, but to…” he glanced around.  “Huh.  She was here a second ago.”

“Sweetie Belle?” Rarity breathed.  “You’re telling me that these awful imposters have been claiming to have my sister’s horn?”

“They don’t know any better,” Heartwing said.  “They know she was a unicorn.  It’s their ‘big, dark secret’.  They use the horn as an oracle.  Only it’s not hers, it’s Starlight Glimmer’s.”

“Whose?” Mercy’s face twisted in confusion.

“You use a unicorn’s severed horn as an oracle?” Rarity’s voice shook with rage.  “You disfigure and maim, and then defile a corpse?  When do your atrocities end?”

“I…” Mercy looked on the verge of panic.  It was almost enough to make Emberglow feel sorry for her.

“Whatever you came for, Mercy, whatever you think you need me for, you can forget about it.  My place is here, with my friends.  You can tell Steadfast the same.  I tried to go to him for help, when I was in crisis.  You know how that ended.”

“Emberglow, you have to come back!” Mercy shrieked.  “It was… I can’t talk about it.  It’s sacred.  But… my vision.  The one I got, when I joined the Radiant.”  She shifted her hooves nervously.  Even knowing that everypony here already knew her secret, it seemed impossible for her to say it.  “My vision, Emberglow.  Things are happening exactly…” she breathed.  “Exactly as the oracle predicted in my vision.  I know it!  And you have to come back!”

“What about my vision, Mercy?”  Emberglow had recorded it in her journal, but she’d never spoken about it to anypony.  “What if I’m fulfilling my own prophecy?  Do you want to hear about it?”  Mercy was shaking her head, but Emberglow pressed forward.  “There was the first part, the one everypony hears.  The Sleeper will awaken at the hooves of her children.”

“Emberglow, not in front of…”

“I deny your oaths, Mercy Song,” Emberglow interrupted.  “But do you want to know the truth?  That one has come true already.”  She pointed her hoof.  “Rarity was the sleeper.  And one of her ‘children’ woke her up.

“But what about the next bit?  About the gems?  One of them came to me in my vision, Mercy Song.  But you already know about that, don’t you?  The Element of Honesty.”  Her voice was raising, and she was nearly shouting.  “The Element of Honesty, that came to me after I denied Steadfast and his lies!”

“But Steadfast says…”

“I don’t want to hear what Steadfast says!” Emberglow shrieked loud enough that her friends flinched, and Rarity reached out to lay a comforting hoof on her shoulder.  “I don’t want to hear about your vision!  I don’t want to hear you beg!  I want you, and Steadfast, and Brightblade out of my life forever!”

For a moment, her shriek was followed by dead silence, except for the waves lapping against the shore.  Then Heartwing started to clap.

“Ow!” he complained, as both Terminus and Rarity tweaked one of his ears each.  “What?  I wasn’t being rude, it was a good speech!”

“Thanks,” Emberglow whispered, though she wouldn’t take her eyes off Mercy.

“Is that everything?” Rarity asked Mercy dismissively.  “Because if all you’re here to do is waste our time with this pointless begging, I suggest you leave.”

“This isn’t over, Emberglow.  Your destiny as an Element is back in the Diarchy.  I know it.  Steadfast knows it.”  She stood up and brushed the dirt off her robes.  “You won’t find what you came here for.”  She left the broken spear shaft on the ground as she turned to walk away.

“Care to explain that remark?” Rarity called after her.  But Mercy Song would not turn around.

They watched her leave, uncomfortable in the silence that followed.

“Do we… go after her?” Lofty asked.

Rarity shook her head.  “I think not.  As much as I would love to rip my cutie mark off of her offensive robes, she did keep her truce.  There’s no ambush here.”

“Yet,” Heartwing said darkly.  “We should hurry and search the island.”

“I found something.”

Starlight’s voice once again made them all jump.

“Starlight, darling?  One might think you’d started to take notes on dramatic entrances from Maud Pie.”  Rarity gave a nervous laugh.  “What did you find?”

“Rocks, not where they should be,” Starlight replied.  “Come.  I’ll show you.”

“Now she really is sounding like Maud,” Heartwing murmured.

Emberglow had no idea who they were talking about.  She was more worried about Mercy Song’s last cryptic remark.

You won’t find what you came here for.

“Are we going to talk about that last thing she said?” Emberglow asked as they followed after Starlight, moving carefully over the jagged stone towards the island’s spine.  Emberglow and Terminus finally took wing, hovering a few hoof-lengths off the ground to avoid stumbling and struggling over the broken ground.  “What did she mean?”

“My guess is she was just playing mind games.” Terminus waved a hoof in the direction Mercy went.

“That’s not Mercy’s style,” Lofty said.  “She doesn’t do mind games.  She’s… direct.”

“How did she get to the island?  And how is she getting off?” Emberglow asked.  “If there’s another ship in the area, the Captain and his crew might be in danger.”

“We’ll just have to hurry, then.  And be on our guard.  Starlight, where are these rocks that are out of place?”

It turned out that the rocks were not out of place, so much as oddly arranged.  There was a wide, flat face of grey stone, striped through with red strata.  Emberglow didn’t know much about geology, though the odd diagonal cracks that ran perpendicular to the red strata looked out of place.  They were just a little too straight to be natural, though small enough to have been overlooked.

“One moment,” Heartwing said, before raising his gauntlet to cast a spell.

“I’m curious, darling,” Rarity asked.  “You’re a unicorn, but you still use a Knight’s rune magic on occasion.  Why is that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with having lots of options,” Heartwing shrugged as he finished his spell.  Emberglow recognized it as a simple motic detection spell; something that would alert him to nearby sources of energy.  “Besides, horn magic and rune magic can both do similar things, though not entirely.  This detection spell, for example, can—” he cut off with a gasp.  “Woah.”

“What is it?” Emberglow landed next to him, carefully feeling her hoof along the grey stone.  It felt warm from the sun, but other than that, completely normal.

“There’s a huge energy source trapped underneath these stones.  Massive.”

“Anything like the spell that was keeping Rarity alive under Manehatten?”

“Very similar, in fact,” Heartwing said.  He began casting another spell, this time with his horn.  “Rarity?  See if you can help me shift this rock.  I think it slides…”

At the touch of their magic, the stone trembled, then slid, receding into the ground itself in a grind of stone and dust.  Heartwing and Emberglow both jerked backwards, staring into the gaping hole it revealed.

“Was the song… a prophecy, then?” Emberglow breathed.  “’The wizard’s skull will guide the path’?”  She glanced meaningfully at Starlight.

“I suppose so,” Heartwing said.  His horn glowed yellow, and he angled the tip to cast light into the cave before them.  There was a rough cut stone staircase descending into the darkness; it seemed almost impervious to the light of Heartwing’s horn.  “Shall we go look, and see what surprises Captain Celeano hid here for us to find?”

Emberglow couldn’t help but feel excited.  The last time they’d sensed a similar magical signature, it had been Rarity.  What sort of truth from the past could be down here?

Maybe another pony?

There was a buzzing of wings behind them, and each pony looked up to see Escher, in his odd, bug-like form with a red and black carapace, descending towards them urgently.

“Hey!  You’re going to need to hurry!” he called out before his hooves even touched the ground.  “The other ship’s back.  They’re keeping their distance for now, but who knows how long that will last.  If this is going to be a fight, we’re going to need your help.”

“I guess…” Rarity peered into the darkness.  “I guess we’d best hurry, then.  Into the maw of the beast, as it were.”
> Chapter 49
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 49


Untitled scrap of ancient parchment, filed away in the basement archives beneath the Starshine Memorial Building, New Canterlot City

…uman philosophers were full of such cruel brilliance.  Take this one, for example.  “He who seeks to deceive will always find someone who will allow himself to be deceived.”

Or here’s another.  Same guy.  I wish I’d met him when I had the chance, but I had no idea just how brilliant he’d become. 

“If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.”  In this cont… [section torn and unreadable] …ike you or I would say ‘stallion’.  But the quote’s relevant, right?  If the Sparkle Bitch had shut any of us down to begin with, for good, maybe her own country wouldn’t be…

[The rest of the fragment is unreadable]

Makucha ya Paka, 1113 AF

The six ponies and one changeling stared down into the inky darkness that gaped open at their hooves.  There was no sound from inside, no musty smell, no indication of what might lie beyond.  Rarity allowed her horn to blaze brighter, but even then could barely see more than a few steps down into the darkness.

“Well, nothing ventured…” she said.  Rarity tried to be fearless as she planted her hoof on the first step.  Nothing happened.  She moved to the second.

“Rarity!” Emberglow’s voice was worried.  “Maybe one of us Knights should go first!”

What a dear.  Emberglow was always so protective of her.  She landed on the steps right in front of Rarity, holding her shield out in front with one hoof.  Lofty quickly pulled up alongside her, and the two old friends shared a smile.

“Kinda weird to be going into battle with you, Emberglow,” Lofty whispered, his voice bouncing off the cave walls and down into the depths below.

“I never thought it would happen,” Emberglow replied.  “I always thought our duties would keep us far apart.”

The six quickly fell into a marching order of sorts, with Topaz and Rarity safely in the middle, surrounded by Knights.  Heartwing and Terminus brought up the rear, while Emberglow and Lofty led the way.  Escher offered to stand guard outside the door, which Heartwing quickly agreed to.

Lofty quickly cast the floating light orb spell, giving off a small smirk as he did so.  “You remember our first practical magic lesson?” he said.  “I think we were the first of Sir Sablebeard’s class to not send more than half a dozen to the infirmary.”

Even the light spell failed to penetrate to the bottom of the stairs, so the six of them moved slowly, one step at a time.  Rarity kept an ear out for any sounds, but the only thing she could hear was their hooves clopping against the solid stone.

“I’ve always disliked caves,” Rarity muttered to nopony in particular.  “There’s no way of telling just how far do—”

“Here’s the bottom,” Lofty interrupted, and Rarity felt her face flush.  She turned back; she could still see the light of day filtering in through the open door.

“If it is so shallow, why couldn’t our light illuminate all the way to the bottom?” Rarity asked, grumpy at having been embarrassed.

“I imagine it’s some sort of dramatic flair,” Heartwing suggested.  “The kinds of creatures who build these sorts of places are always so opaque.  The need for mystery and misdirection is sometimes a compulsion.”  Rarity snorted with amusement.

“There’s a door.  It’s made of stone, just like the one up above,” Lofty reported from below them.  Rarity hurried the last few steps to see.

Indeed, much like the hidden door at the entrance, there was a series of somewhat natural looking cracks in the stone, cracks that looked at odds with the nearby strata.  Emberglow and Lofty were carefully running their hooves over it.

“Perhaps it opens like the one above?  When one of us touches our magic to it?” Heartwing suggested.  His horn glowed, and surrounded the large, flat stone.  It didn’t budge.

“Forgive me, darling,” Rarity tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice.  “But are you sure it’s your magic the door responded to?  I can’t say a secure magical cave constructed to hide the Element of Magic might respond favorably to the pony who…”

“You try, then,” Heartwing said, stepping aside.  Rarity’s horn glowed brightly, and the door slid open just like the first one.

Only that wasn’t all; as the door in front of them slid open, the light from the sunny day outside suddenly cut out as the door behind them slammed shut.

Everypony gasped, and Rarity rushed up the stairs, followed closely by everypony else.  Rarity could hear pounding on the other side, and muffled shouts coming from Escher.

“Is everypony okay?” he shouted.

“We’re fine!” Rarity called back.  She lit her horn to try and open the door again, but there was nothing.  “I can’t seem to open it from this side.”

Heartwing tried as well, but there was no response.

“One moment!” they heard Escher call from the other side.  Then he went silent.  Rarity stared at the door, wondering what Escher had in mind, when suddenly she saw in the light of her horn the tiny form of a little red and black spider crawling through the crack between the cave and the wall.

The spider was consumed by a burst of green fire and Rarity fell back.  Escher was now standing right in front of them.

“Heh, sorry about that.” He rubbed at the back of his head.  “At least I can get in and out.”

“Yes, well, that doesn’t seem to help us much, does it?” Rarity said testily, but then immediately regretted it.  “Sorry, darling.”

“It’s fine.”  Escher waved a hoof.  “So… should I sneak out again and go get help?”

They stood in the darkness for a moment, considering.  Finally Rarity shook her head.

“It’s nice to know that’s an option, Escher.  But let’s see what’s in the room at the bottom first, before we look into escaping.”

“It could be like the cave where we found you,” Heartwing said.  “There was another way out, there.”

“Let’s go see.”  The fear of being trapped here was nothing compared to the curiosity she felt.  Once again they descended into the darkness, this time with Escher as well.

The door had opened into a small, circular room, perhaps only about five pony lengths across.  The air was stale, but Rarity could feel the tiniest of breezes, so it wasn’t completely still.  There was an odd sort of dusty smell.

In the center of the room was a stone plinth, empty except for an odd collection of runes carved into the top.  The runes were carved in concentric circles around a small blank spot in the center.

The air felt charged, practically humming with magical energy.  It reminded her of the times she stood in the presence of the Tree of Harmony, or even that time she and her friends had gone to Ponehenge to find the Pillars.  It was like the magic in the air was waiting for something, a predator poised to pounce.  Rarity carefully began to move over to the plinth.

“Is this… who I think it is?” Heartwing said, and Rarity glanced where he was looking.  Against the northern wall sat a pile of dusty bones, covered in scraps of cloth.  The bones were impossible to identify, but there was no mistaking the crystalline peg leg that rested among them.

“Captain Celeano,” Rarity breathed, trotting over.  She picked up the peg leg, turning it this way and that.  It was indeed the parrot captain’s prosthetic.  “Did you manage to do it?  Did you manage to bring the Element here?”  She felt tears stinging her eyes.  “You shouldn’t have had to die in a place like this.  But thank you.”

“Ponies, spread out and search.” Heartwing’s voice was businesslike.  “But be careful.  Eyes only.  We have no idea what could be hiding here.”

“I found more remains,” Emberglow called out.  “There’s barely anything left.  But if this cave’s over a thousand years old, there shouldn’t even be this much.”

“Can you tell anything about the remains?” Heartwing asked, trotting over to her.  Rarity also left the bones of Celeano to come see.

“Without touching?  Probably not.  But there’s more than one.  I see at least three pelvises.  Probably ponies, most likely mares.  There’s… some kind of bag, there.  I can’t tell for sure.”  She pointed at a bag, made of what looked like some sort of synthetic weave Rarity wasn’t familiar with.

“Surely there can be no harm in looking?” Rarity mused, reaching out with her magic to lift the bag from among the bones.  It was a simple, sewn bag, only the size of her hoof, with a drawstring design.  The string itself had probably rotted centuries ago.  She pulled the bag open, and glanced inside, before carefully spilling the contents out onto the floor.  It was a dozen shards of tiny red shattered glass.

“Does that mean anything to any of you?” Rarity asked, staring at the shards of glass.  She looked around the room, meeting blank stares and shaking heads.  “Hmm.  I wonder who they were, then.”

“Emberglow?” Heartwing was standing by the rune-carved plinth.  “Come tell me what you see.  Rarity, you too.”

Rarity left the mystery of the red crystal shards and stepped over to the plinth.  She stared at the runes for a few moments, before shaking her head.

“I can’t make sense of them,” she admitted.  “But then again, isn’t rune notation an invention after my time?  Twilight doesn’t use it to write her spells.”

“It’s complex,” Emberglow said.  “Really complex.  There’s an illusion spell, a really complicated one.  It’s designed to create an image of a pony?  Like a recording played over a radio, but with a visual.”

“It may have been left by Celeano!” Rarity cheered.  “How do we turn it on?”

“Rarity, I would—”

But Rarity didn’t want to wait to hear what Heartwing would do.  She lit her horn, touching the surface of the plinth with the hint of her magic.  The runes in the stone glowed with a pale green light, filling the room with a sickly pallor.  Emberglow and Rarity both jerked away from the plinth, in time for a flickering, translucent image to appear in the room before them.

“I-is it working?  Is this working?  I hope so.  This might be the last chance I get.”  It was a pony Rarity didn’t recognize, an ancient pony with more wrinkles than Rarity thought possible.  She had yellow fur, and a mass of orange hair that hung limp and greasy around her shriveled face.  “This will have to do.  I’m not setting all this up again.  So hey, Sparkle Bitch.  I hope you’re grateful.  This is all for you, after all.”  The pony laughed, a cruel, cackling sound.  Her voice was harsh and grating, like sandpaper dragging over Rarity’s ears.

“Wait, you’re probably dead, aren’t you?  I went to your funeral, you know.”  She laughed again.  “But if anypony has the ability to cheat death, it’s probably you, isn’t it, Sparkle Bitch?”

“Who is it?” Emberglow whispered, from right next to Rarity’s ear.  Rarity shook her head.  She had no idea.  But she could see the bag, the same one she’d spilled the red shards out of, hanging from a small cord around the pony’s neck.

“I know it’s an awful literary cliché,” the pony continued, “but I can’t help myself.  I’ve got a captive audience, and I’m the villain.  So it’s time for my dramatic monologue!”  The pony struck a melodramatic pose, with one hoof to her chest, the other in the air.  She held it for a moment, then stumbled with a cry of pain, her limbs trembling.  “Damn, I’m so old.  Okay.  First things first.”

The illusory image reached for something Rarity couldn’t see, her hoof reaching invisibly before returning with something that looked horrifically like a bone saw.  Rarity gasped when the image raised the saw to her own horn.

“Watch, Sparkle.  Watch, so you know I’m serious.”  She began to drag the saw across her horn, whimpering and moaning in pain with each pass.

“How is she even…” Rarity watched, horrified.  Her stomach churned and twisted, and she felt like she could lose her lunch any second.  It shouldn’t be possible.  The pain would be so intense.

Everypony in the room watched the wretched creature amputate her own horn.  With one last gasp of pain, her horn snapped off and fell to the ground with a dull thud.

“T-there.  I’m dead.  And nothing’s going to change that.  Now.  Time for the monologue.  You should have killed me, Sparkle.  Or banished me, like that coward Starswirl.”  She gave another witchlike cackle.  “Who cares what damage we might do to another reality, if you and your family aren’t there to see it?

“I know you’re dead, Sparkle.  So maybe you found a way to cheat.  Or maybe one of your limp-brained friends has caught up to me.  Like Sunset.”  She spat against the floor angrily.  “I don’t know how you did it, Sparkle.  But I have to admire your cruelty.  Even I didn’t expect you to throw away one of your pet bugs like that.  They must really love you.

“Doesn’t matter, though.  Because I won.  We won.  And all it took was stealing a page out of your own book.  Friendship is Magic.  And you left a lot of ponies in your wake who were willing to bond over their shared hatred of the mare who humiliated us, imprisoned us, and crippled us.

“Like Cozy Glow, a genius for manipulation.  Or Tirek.  Or maybe the bug bitch.  Though she had to be put down.  She had her own ideas, and they didn’t really fit the symphony I was trying to conduct.  But there were minor orchestra members, too; ponies willing to sell their souls for a pittance.  It was so easy, Sparkle.

“It’s kinda fun, being friends with a bunch of ponies who hate you.  It’s like an after-school club, only we get to murder ponies you care about!  But, I suppose, you’d like answers to some of your questions.”

The pony made another flourish with her decrepit hooves, bowing low.  “So here begins the final performance of Adagio Dazzle, once the greatest of Sirens, now a mere unicorn pony, downgraded and disrespected and crippled by the Bitch Princess.  Bet you didn’t know when you and Sunset stripped me and my sisters of our magic, that we’d become ponies on this side, did you?

“Anyways.  To answer the first question I’m sure you have, it was the portal.  The portal, complete with the alliance I forged with Tirek, Sombra, Cozy, Chrysalis, and a dozen others.  All it took was a couple of spells to make sure the portal didn’t sync up the way it should, you know?  I’d share the formula, but you’re Twilight Sparkle.” The figure bowed low in mock respect.  “You probably could figure out complex spell formulae like that in your sleep.  So the portals connected, but out of sync, so time is now passing faster on this side than on that filthy cesspool of a world that Starswirl banished us to.  Then all I had to do was assemble my own team of friends, equip them with all sorts of resources from the human world, and let your own world destroy itself.”

The phantom sighed with pleasure.  “Your world wasn’t prepared for what I brought, Twilight.  It was so easy to make them hate.  Cozy was especially good at manipulating things behind the scenes.  Did you know she died happy?  At least that’s what I hear.  Happy and satisfied to have ruined everything you built.

“So you know what, Princess?  Or whatever lackeys came in your place, because you’re dead?  I won.  I continue to win.  Because you might find the Elements again.  You might fix the world.  You might ‘bring back Harmony’.”  Her voice twisted in a sickeningly sweet parody.  “But you never bring back the dead.  You never bring back those who suffered.  You never change the past.

“That’s my legacy, Twilight Sparkle.  That’s my revenge.  You took from me what I held most dear and sacred.  So I took the same from you.  Harmony.  Friendship.  Love.  Peace.  So I win, Twilight.  And so does Cozy, and Tirek.”  She coughed, and wavered on her hooves.  “I don’t know if you can hear that, Twilight, but Tirek’s pet Knights are coming.  Did you know they’ve started to split apart into ‘Orders’, following some sort of twisted version of you and your friends?  Wasn’t even mine or Cozy’s idea.  Just like humans, ponies can be truly creative when motivated by hatred.

“When they get here, I’m going to give them the Element of Magic.  Clever of you to send your pet dragon to hide them with all these obscure background characters.  I’m also giving them my horn.  Tirek will use my horn as the final component to the machine he’s built.  There should be enough power in it to be very useful.  And I’ll be gone, forever dead, forever free of your own justice.”

“Does she even realize Twilight is gone?” Heartwing whispered. 

“She has to, right?” Emberglow said.  “I mean, she said so…”

“Hush!” Rarity cut through them.

“I guess that’s all I really wanted to gloat about.  One last thing, though.  My idiot sisters.  They tried to stop me, you know?  Said ‘it’s too much’.  You probably noticed their corpses.  But after all I’ve done, what’s a little sororicide and blood magic, right?

“But what’s a good villain monologue without some kind of absurd death trap at the end?  So Sonata and Aria gave their lives,” she paused to giggle, “quite unwillingly, mind you, but gave them they did.  All to power one last petty little bit of spite.

“So as soon as this message is done, I’ll have to take my…” she coughed, and even in the hazy illusion Rarity could see blood, “… my final curtain call.  Farewell, Twilight Sparkle.  If you managed to cheat death, let’s see you do it again.

“I’ve taken a little device Tirek made for me.  Cute variation on his ‘magic stealing’ routine, only this one steals a pony’s life, and converts it into magical energy.  Thank goodness he’s not putting it into mass production.  Even we’re not that terrible.”  She cackled.  “So, after binding my traitorous sisters with my magic and spilling their blood all over Tirek’s ingenious device, I managed to fill a specialized battery with enough magic to make a crater here the size of six of these islands.  And then set it on standby, ready to power the spell you’re watching right now.  And when the spell runs out…” she tapped her chin with one hoof, thoughtfully.  “Well, Twiggles.  What do you think will happen to that much stable energy, contained, bottled, and imprisoned for years, suddenly given a glimpse of a way out?  I estimate you have minutes before the island explodes in a hellfire of corrupted wild magic.  Ta!”

The recording bowed, giggling and cackling with her voice that sounded like so much gravel tumbling down a rocky slope.  Then the image glanced up suddenly, and spoke, not to them, but to somepony they couldn’t see.  “This way, good Knights.  The Element is here, ready for you to take.  As is my horn.  Deliver it to your pontiff, with this le…”

The light filling the room flickered off, and the illusion was gone.  The silence lasted barely a second, but it felt like an age.  Rarity could see the stunned, frightened looks on everypony’s faces.

“Okay, ponies.  No time to panic, I need calm, rational minds here,” Heartwing’s voice cut through the emotion thick in the room.  “I’m going to need you to set aside what you just heard, and we can all focus on getting out of here alive.  Once we’re safely on the ship and away, then we can talk about what just happened.”

The three Knights, long conditioned to military obedience, snapped off salutes to Heartwing while Rarity and Topaz shared a look.

“First off, Emberglow, you’re the most studied about magical theory.  You and Rarity both, now, I guess.  What she said… is it possible she was deceiving us?  That the danger is misrepresented?”

“No,” Emberglow said instantly.  “At least, if I can trust my own training.  Motes improperly stored in a battery can be a danger.  Motic leak can happen if a pony is killed after writing the runes of a spell, but not allowed to release the magic.  It can also happen if the battery is pierced by something incredibly strong.  It could mean the motes just leak out over time.  It could also be an explosion, like she said.”

“Can we hope for the first?  The slow leak?”

“We could,” Emberglow mused.  “But it would be like Manehatten.  Or Klugetown.  Only much worse, and more concentrated.  Motic irradiation.  We’d be facing madness, mutation, disease.”

“So the explosion is actually a best case scenario,” Heartwing muttered darkly.  “Okay.  First things first.  Find the battery.  Detection spells, ponies.  Throughout the room.  Triangulate and locate the source.”

The four Knights spread as far as they could.  There was a sort of calm urgency to their actions, something Rarity admired.  She was shaking, terrified, helpless, and useless.  Nothing she did could…

“Shh.” Topaz was beside her, hugging her tight.  “There’s no reason to worry.  They’ll get us out of this.  Just be ready to help however they need.”

“But…”

“Don’t waste your time thinking of what could go wrong.  Look for ways to help.”

“There is nothing I can do to help,” Rarity snarled.  Nothing she’d read in Twilight’s books, nothing she’d practiced or spoken about with Twilight herself, had prepared her for this new magic.  Twilight, or rather Twilight’s construct, had included a few notes about the beginnings of rune magic, but it was merely a theory.  Nothing that would even be a little helpful.

“You can be calm.  You can be strong.  You can inspire.”  Topaz shrugged.  “Emberglow takes strength from you, you know.  I’ve seen the way she looks at you.  You inspire her.  Among other things.”

“How can you be so calm?”

“I’m not,” Topaz admitted.  “I’m shaking as much as you are, see?” She held up a trembling hoof.  “That’s why I’m hugging you so tightly.  But I know Lofty and the others will do fine.  They’re all wonderful improvisors.”

Rarity had let the conversation take her out of the moment, but when Topaz finished talking, she could now feel the floor of their prison trembling and heating up.  The Knights were all casting complex spells, ignoring the growing threat of the cave floor.

“There,” Emberglow pointed.  The other three, as well, their hooves angling down below the floor.

“That would place the battery somewhere below the plinth?” Heartwing surmised.  “Probably about twenty feet down.  Buried?”

“Or in another chamber,” Emberglow suggested.

“I could teleport, if I knew there was a space,” Heartwing said.

“On it,” Escher said as he ran towards the plinth, his body engulfed in green fire.  Once again he was tiny, this time a centipede.  He skittered between the tiny cracks in the floor.

“Might take him a while.  Other solutions?”

“Clover’s Fifth Law of Magical Conservation,” came a voice.  It was Starlight.  She was standing just beside Rarity.

“Oh!  I think I read something about that!” Rarity’s excitement surged.  “Emberglow, you said this sort of thing can happen on a small scale when a Knight finishes writing the runes, but is unable to actually complete the casting?  That’s why the magic is becoming unstable!  Because it has force, but no direction!”

“So all we need to do is burrow through twenty feet of stone, retrieve the battery, hook one of our gauntlets to it, and cast a spell to siphon away the power?”  Lofty sounded sarcastic.  “Sounds easy.”

“Won’t work,” Emberglow shook her head.  “I…”

The room was rocked with an explosion, the floor lurching up in vast cracks.  Stones tumbled down from the ceiling, falling all over their heads.  Ponies grunted and cried out in pain as they were tossed about and rained on from above.

“Escher!” Topaz shrieked, jerking to her hooves from where she had fallen.  Rarity could see blood dripping down her face, from where a rock had struck her forehead.  Rarity pulled herself up as well, following after Topaz and tossing a shield over the two of them.  Rocks and pebbles rained down.  Topaz began clawing at the ground below the plinth, now broken and cracked.

“Topaz, I’m sure…”

“He’s down there!  He’s down there and it’s breaking, and blowing up!  Help me!” Topaz screamed desperately.

“I can’t!  If I use my horn, it could break things up more!  I’d crush him!”

“But...” Topaz whimpered, her eyes darting back and forth between Rarity and the broken stone.

“Trust him.  He’s tiny, he’ll be fine,” Rarity lied.  She didn’t even believe what she was saying, but she saw  her words had an effect.  Topaz began to breathe heavily, deliberately trying to slow her own panic.

The rest of the room’s occupants were coming to their hooves as well.  Starlight was nowhere in sight.  Emberglow stood over Terminus, casting a spell.  Terminus was limp, but his eyes were open.  Lofty struggled to move a pile of stones that had fallen on top of Heartwing’s hind hooves, who was swearing and panting with pain.

“Emberglow!  Triage, then shield spells!” Heartwing grunted through his pain.  “We can’t worry about minor stuff.”

Terminus and Lofty both heard the command.  Terminus, eyes clenched in pain, still lifted his hoof and began a shaky cast.  Lofty did the same.  Soon glowing walls of force began to spread out over the splintering walls and ceiling.  There was a noticeable decrease in the amount of pebbles and dust raining down on them from above.

“It’s…” Heartwing grunted.  “It’s only temporary.  We need to find the source and contain it!”

There was another rumble at Rarity’s hooves, and she jerked away in surprise.  The ground underneath her was moving!  The stones shifted to the sides, and suddenly a small mole was peeking his head out from underneath a slab of rock Rarity had been standing on.

“Escher!?” Topaz rushed over as the mole crawled out of the hole.  He transformed, panting and out of breath.

“There’s a chamber.  Still intact, for now.  It’s wide enough for maybe two ponies.  The battery is down there, connected by some cords to the plinth up above.  Though they’ve been cut, by now.”

“I can teleport down there!” Rarity said, hope surging in her heart.  Heartwing shook his head.  “What?  I’ve been studying.  I think I’m ready…”

“You’re ready to begin teleportation practice, in safe, controlled conditions,” Heartwing said.  “I’m not risking your life on a gamble like that, no matter how confident and strong you are.”  For a second, Rarity thought she could see the glow of the Element of Loyalty from beneath his yellow armor.  “I’ll go.  How far down did you say, Escher?”

“About twenty feet, just like you thought,” Escher said.  “Small chamber, round, with the battery in the center.  Plenty of those cave spikes that look like icicles coming from the floor and ceiling.”

“Wish me luck,” Heartwing flinched as he lifted the last few stones off his hind legs.  His horn glowed brightly.

“But sir, your legs are injured, you shouldn’t be…” Emberglow tried to sprint over the broken floor towards him, but Heartwing disappeared with a pop and the smell of ozone.

Rarity could hear the sound of ringing, and then a bright, blinding flash of magic filled the room.  Heartwing reappeared, flung through the air hard enough to strike the ceiling before collapsing to the floor with a grunt.  Emberglow rushed over even as he was trying to stand.

“Teleportation wards.  That insane bitch.  She put up teleportation wards,”  he muttered, before slumping to the ground.

“He’s out cold,” Emberglow muttered, sounding terrified.  Rarity could see her trembling, but her next words were clear.  “What do we do next?”

“Emberglow, see if you can get him on his hooves,” Rarity said.  Emberglow saluted, an instinct that Rarity found somewhat amusing, before beginning a complex set of runes.  “How are your batteries on motes, Knights?”

“Full,” Lofty said in surprise, his voice rising with wonder.  Terminus nodded weakly as well.  “It’s like… the leak is filling our gauntlets.”

“So power is not the issue.  Just solutions.  Keep up your shielding spells.”  The same could not be said for Rarity’s magic; she was beginning to feel the strain of holding the shield over herself, Topaz, and Escher.

The two stallions also gave their own salutes, casting furiously.  The room’s walls were soon filled with glowing light, covering every surface.

“We can keep reinforcing the ceiling, Rarity, but no amount of magical shields will do a thing if these rocks decide to squish us,” Lofty said.

“I know, darling, I’m thinking.  Emberglow, before the explosion, you were saying why we couldn’t simply cast a spell to siphon off the extra energy?”

“There’s no spell large enough to siphon off enough,” Emberglow said.  “Nothing I know of could possibly be enough!”

“I know a spell.”

The room seemed to grow still.  The rumbling, the earsplitting cracks, the falling dust and stone all seemed to fade into the background at Starlight’s words.

No, Rarity thought.  It’s still unfinished.  It’s still going to take one of us.  I couldn’t possibly…

“I know a spell,” Starlight repeated, from right next to her.  She was holding her book.  “It's not finished.  It’s not perfect.  But it will be enough.”

“No, darling.  No, you can’t…”

“You’re right, Rarity.  I can’t cast it.  Your rune gauntlets require a living body.  But somepony else could.”

“We still haven’t figured out how to bring two people back with us!” Rarity yelled.  “It’s incomplete!  Whoever we send back is doomed to fail!”

“What if…” Escher whispered, shaking beside her.  “What if they didn’t?  What if they already succeeded?”

“Escher!” Lofty’s face went pale.  “Escher, what do you mean?”

“I overheard,” Escher said, looking away with shame.  “I was curious.  I listened in, when you and Starlight were working on the spell.  I thought… I thought it sounded like a story Lofty told us once.  About one of my kind, somehow saving Sunset Shimmer.  Taking her place, dying in her cell so she could be free.”

“I absolutely forbid it!” Rarity screamed, desperate terror filling her voice.  “I won’t allow somepony to give their life, just so we can—”

“Live?” Escher interrupted, and Topaz gave a sob.  “I’m sworn to protect the royal family.  To protect my friends.  I-I’m trained to take a spear before they do.  My life before theirs.  My breath before theirs.”

“Escher, there has to be another way!” Topaz reached out, taking him tightly in a hug. “I won’t let you!”

“Starlight?” he whispered, barely holding back sobs.  “If I make it down into the chamber again, the one with the battery, can you follow me?  Can you bring a gauntlet, and show me how to connect it?”

Starlight nodded.

“Do it, please.”

“Escher, no!  Don’t you dare leave me!” Topaz was weeping, her hoof beating on his chest.  “Escher, you can’t!”

“You c-can’t stop me,” he whimpered, as the walls cracked.  The ceiling contracted, jerking down a few inches, barely held up by the shields in place.  “I have to save you.  Goodbye, Topaz.”

“Escher!” Topaz squeezed him tighter, but there was an explosion of green fire.  Once again, Rarity saw for a second a tiny insect scurrying across the floor. “No.  No!”  Her hooves scrambled furiously across the stone, digging and tossing rubble aside, trying to find the changeling.  But he was gone.  “Starlight.  Starlight!  You have to…”

But Starlight was gone, as well.  Instead, she was standing over Heartwing’s still, unconscious form, unbuckling the gauntlet on his armor.

Topaz’ face twisted with rage.  “Starlight, don’t you dare!  You can’t do this to me!”  Tears poured out of the corners of her eyes, leaving muddy streaks down Topaz’ yellow fur.  “There has to be another way!”

“It’s my fault she’s dead,” Starlight whispered.  “It’s my fault they’re all dead.  All those ponies Adagio was talking about.  It’s my fault.  What’s one more corpse?”  She managed to free the gauntlet right as Topaz lunged at her, hooves outstretched, reaching, grasping…

… at nothing.

“No!  No, Starlight!  Escher!” Topaz’s wails echoed off the walls and the shield, filling the room and drowning out the violent rumbling of the cave.  “Please!”

Lofty moved over, catching Topaz just as she collapsed.  There was nothing to say.  The ponies all stared at each other while Topaz shook and sobbed.  Emberglow had even paused in her own work, between spell casts.

“We knew,” Topaz’ whisper suddenly cut through the stillness.  “We knew it was going to happen.  From the story you told us, Lofty.” Rarity was confused.  What were they referring to?  “In your story.  In that thing you read.  Did it ever describe what the changeling looked like?”

“Red and black carapace,” Lofty whispered, and Topaz let out another wail.  “Hey, hey.  It’s okay.  Maybe he got out.  He could have escaped, after.  We don’t know.  It’s possible.”

“Did he, though?  Is that what your predecessor wrote?”

“Topaz…”

“I’d rather deal with the truth than live a comforting lie, Lofty,” she sniffled, lifting her head enough to look him in the eyes.

“We can’t be sure,” Lofty said, his voice low.  “But Sir Jabbernote wrote that he killed the changeling.  So I don’t…”

“Okay.  Okay, thanks, Lofty.”

“Um, did anypony notice?” Emberglow was looking around her.  The walls weren’t shaking and cracking any longer, the floor was cooling off.  Everypony looked around them in awe, staring at the walls that only moments ago were threatening to crush them all.  “Are we… safe?  Did it work?”

“It must have,” Terminus groaned.  “Escher succeeded.  He won.  He beat her, whoever she was.”

“Starlight?  Did it work?” Emberglow called out.  But there was only silence.

“Maybe… she got killed too?” Rarity sighed.  “Maybe she gets to rest, finally?”

“No…” the whisper filled the room, and suddenly they all fell back with a yelp as the chamber was filled with a blinding golden light.  Everypony clenched their eyes shut, stumbling to block out the searing radiance.

“What…” Rarity managed.  She tried to light up her horn, to cast some sort of shield, but the magic filling the room was like a presence, a pressure wave shoving her back and keeping her down.  She managed to open her eyes, just the slightest crack, and saw, silhouetted by the blinding light, a skeletal pony.  The magic was charring her, tearing her apart into dust.

“Not yet.  There’s one more piece of me.”  It was the most lucid Starlight had ever sounded.  Her words pounded into Rarity’s skull.  Rarity wanted to cower, to hide underneath the blast of brightest sunlight, but she couldn’t shut her eyes.  “You know what I created.  What I built.  Tantabus.  Part of me lives in it.  Emberglow knows where I am.  Where they took my horn.  Where the Tantabus lives, still.  Please.  Let all of me rest, Rarity.”

There was nothing left but a disintegrating skull, floating in the air, but it turned to where Lofty and Topaz still trembled and cowered.  “Tell Sunburst… I mean, tell your son goodbye for me, Lofty Tale.  And thank you.  You let me find myself, again.  You let me help.  Thank you.  Thaaaannnkk….”

The last bit of Starlight Glimmer faded away, seared into dust by the blinding light.  Slowly, achingly, it began to dim.  Rarity still couldn’t see anything, but she could tell it was dying down, fading, growing quiet.  The light began to pulse, throbbing like a heartbeat.

No, not like a heartbeat.  It was a heartbeat.  Tha-thump.  Tha-thump.  Calm.  Steady.  Grounding.  She managed to pull herself to her hooves.  Whatever was causing it was surely dangerous, but Rarity felt compelled, drawn forward, as if helpless to her own curiosity.  Everypony else was still blinking, struggling to their hooves.  She managed to grow close enough to see what was glowing and pulsing.

It was a pony.  A mare, in fact.  Her eyes were open, glowing pure, featureless bright white.  A thick, wavy mane of red and gold spilled down her back, matching a glorious tail of the same colors.  Her cutie mark was a stylized sunburst.  Her horn stood out from her mane, and magnificent feathered wings were curled up on either side of her.

“Is that…” Emberglow breathed from behind Rarity.  “Is that an … alicorn?”  She stumbled a bit over the unfamiliar word.

“It is, darling.  And If I’m correct, it’s Sunset Shimmer.  Not only did Escher save all of our lives, he saved this one, too.”  Rarity reached up to the glowing, floating mare, and gently took her in a cerulean glow.  Sunset’s eyes slipped closed, and the light in the room was suddenly so much dimmer.  Rarity gently caught the sleeping mare in her hooves and lowered her to the floor.  “Emberglow, darling?  Your assistance, please?  We need to see if she’s all right.”

 

 
> Epilogue for Part Two: Smothering Dreams
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Epilogue to Part Two:



Smothering Dreams


            	The cell was tiny.  Barely even ten paces across.  Sunset Shimmer was sure; she’d checked at least a hundred times now.  Pacing out the width of her cell was certainly better than trying to sleep again.

            	It was better than the nightmares.  It was better than thinking about what was coming.  She’d seen the headspony’s block, perched on the raised platform in the square below.  The brutes that served as her guards had made sure she saw it on her way to the prison.

            	It was already stained with blood by the time she’d gotten there.

            	The last few months blended together in a blur of horror.  Discovering a slew of messages from Twilight, spanning decades.  Driving frantically to Canterlot High, sprinting to the portal.  The panic of finding it closed.  A flurry of text messages to her friends, begging them to come and help.

            	She’d promised them all she’d be back, when they finally managed to summon the magic to re-ignite the portal.  Just a quick trip to the other side, to check on what had happened.  Barely poking her head through.

            	By the time she realized the portal wasn’t going to work that way any longer (or at all) it was too late.  If Starlight hadn’t been there to help her she would have been taken by the Diarchy right then and there.

            	Thinking of Starlight made her want to start weeping.  The poor mare’s haggard appearance was forever burned into Sunset’s memory; a far cry from the cheerful, friendly girl who had helped save Sunset and her friends from Juniper Montage.  Instead, Starlight was a shell of her old self: a sunken, withered thing, twisted by dark magic and slowly losing her grip on reality.  She’d had barely enough of herself left to remember Sunset and beg her for help.

            	The next few weeks had been a whirlwind.  Meeting the Manehatten Resistance.  Somehow agreeing to lead them in their fight against the Diarchy.  And then the siege.   Fighting.  Running.  Hiding.

            	When Sunset had been in the human world, she’d spent lots of time in school wondering why she was even bothering to learn things like human history and human literature.  They were a cruel, brutal, and hateful race, at times, and their history was full of violence.  But the world she found herself in now was so much more nightmarish than the one she’d left behind.

            	There was one bit from High School that stuck in her head.  A poem, something about some human war she’d never bothered to remember.  But the words of the poem were repeating in her head, now paired with the twisted, broken corpses of the unicorns who had dared to flock to the banner of freedom she had raised.

            	The first to die was Melody Flow, a middle-aged unicorn mother.  Sunset had found her face up, her mouth slack, lolling open and her eyes frozen wide.

Like a devil’s sick of sin.

            	Next were the brothers, a pair of retired Manehatten lawyers named Legal Writ and Subpoena.  They hadn’t cast their shield spell quickly enough before the poison gas overtook them.  Legal Writ was draped over top of his brother, almost as if he was trying to protect him.

…guttering, choking, drowing…

            	There was Feather Dart, a pegasus mare who everypony knew lied about her age to join the fight.  She couldn’t leave her older brother behind, even though he was a unicorn and she wasn’t.  Her corpse was almost unrecognizable, riddled with arrows and shattered after being shot out of the sky.

…Obscene as cancer…

            	Feather Dart’s brother hadn’t made it.  Sunset had seen him on the way out, writhing on the ground in horror and pain, his horn forcibly severed, blood from the beating he’d gotten oozing from his lips.

…gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs…

            	Pacing wasn’t doing much better than sleeping at driving the images from her head.  Finally her legs gave out, and Sunset whimpered, sobbing out loud.  She didn’t care who outside her cell heard her.  It was a mercy that they’d be chopping off her head tomorrow; it would all be over.  She wished they’d killed her back in Manehatten, instead of dragging her back to their blasphemous city for some sort of public display. 

Mostly, though, she just wished she could see her friends again.  

            	Her stomach twisted and clenched, and she heaved.  Her stomach was empty, but that didn’t stop the dry, painful convulsions.  In her mouth, she could only taste her own bile and whatever foul potion they’d forced down her throat that had made her magic inaccessible.  She curled up around her aching stomach, clenching her eyes shut and just praying for tomorrow to come, so she could die.


*   *   *   *   *


            	Sunset Shimmer didn’t know how long she’d stayed, curled up on the empty stone floor.  Long enough that her muscles were stiff and her throat was sticky and sore.  There was a damp stain on the floor from her tears, and from what little vomit had managed to fire out of her raw stomach.

            	She tensed her sore legs to stand, then thought better of it.  What was the point?  There was nothing left.  Her magic was gone, locked away by the poison that even now filled her mouth with a foul, metallic flavor.  Her old friends were gone, trapped across dimensions on the other side of a portal that would never work.  Her new friends were dead, probably buried in an unmarked, common grave.  The only…

            	A familiar warm tingle grew in her horn; the sensation of powerful magic being cast nearby.  Every skilled wizard knew what it felt like, and it was surprising enough to pull Sunset out of her hopelessness and to her hooves.  There was a smell in the air, like ozone, and she backed against the wall as she felt the pressure building in the room.

            	The flash was sudden and intense, and Sunset had to shield her eyes from the bright light.  In an instant, she wasn’t alone in the cell.  It was a changeling; he looked young, with a red and black carapace.  On one hoof he wore a strange looking apparatus; it looked like the cylinders attached to the armor of the soldiers who had besieged Manehattan. 

            	“Sunset Shimmer?” the changeling spoke.  Sunset opened her mouth and tried to speak, but all that came out was a dull croak.  “Sunset Shimmer, I have no time.  Put this on.”  He began shedding the apparatus from his hoof.

            	“What…”

            	“I have no time for questions!”  He’d managed to shed the strange piece of hoof armor, and thrust it towards her.  Instinctively she backed away.  “Please, Sunset!  Put it on!”

            	“But…”

            	“It’s the only way!  Put on the gauntlet and you’ll live.  Leave it off and you’ll die.  Last chance to save the world, Sunset Shimmer.”

            	Sunset didn’t want to die, trembling with fear in front of a crowd howling for her blood.  Besides, she’d always been one to act quickly and decisively.

            	Somewhat unsteady, she lifted her hoof, and as quickly as he could the changeling shoved the gauntlet onto her.  His curved horn glowed as he tightened and attached the straps around her hoof, before shoving the attached battery into her grasp.

            	“Can you tell me…”

            	“No time.  Please.  When you meet Topaz, could you tell her…”  he trailed off, and his eyes filled with tears.  “Tell her I’m sorry.”

            	“Who?  I don’t…”

            	“I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “I’m sorry.  Just let them know…”

            	Whatever else he was going to say was lost in the sudden rush of air in her ears.  She’d expected to feel the building pressure of a teleportation spell, but this was something else.  Something so much bigger.  She was about to cry out, when everything went white.


*   *   *   *   *


            	The pain was more intense than anything Sunset had ever felt.  Screaming bolts of agony drove into her skull.  She tried to reach up, to grasp her horn.  Maybe to wrench it off.  She couldn’t move.  Instead, she catapulted through an expanse of flashing green light.

            	Even in her distress, as she flailed about through the arcane nothingness, she realized what had happened.  It wasn’t teleportation; it was time travel.  Whoever that changeling was, they had somehow managed to recreate one of Star Swirl’s time travel spells and cast it using the gauntlet.  When the spell had worn off, it had dragged the source back to its own ‘present’.  Only in this case, the caster was the gauntlet that had summoned the spell itself.

            	Still, she’d been dragged from one doom to another.  Wherever she was heading towards, she was sure it was taking longer than it should.  The spell was falling apart, not quite strong enough to bring her back to when it had been cast.  There was nothing for her to breathe, and she hadn’t gotten enough warning to take a breath before she’d been brought here.  Sunset’s lungs were empty, but there was nothing to inhale; just flashing arcane light and the sounds of thousands of ticking clocks.  She’d float as a corpse in this timeless void for eternity.

            	No.

            	A few moments ago she’d been willing to give up.  To curl up and wait for death to come.

            	No.

            	Death would have been a release.  An escape from her memories.

            	You’re Sunset Shimmer.  You don’t give up.

            	Did she have a choice?  The sound of ticking clocks became irregular, as if they were falling apart and falling silent.  The aether-construct was coming undone; the motic structure of the spell was never going to hold up to such misuse.

            	Since when have rules and boundaries ever stopped Sunset Shimmer?

            	What else was she supposed to do?  Her horn hurt, her head hurt, her hooves hurt, her spine hurt.  Her lungs burned with need, her stomach still clenched from her earlier dry heaves.  Her eyes tried to close, to bury her away in darkness and sleep.

            	No.  Not you.  Not like this.

            	Her eyes flashed with the tiniest hint of her customary fire.  She was Sunset Shimmer, damnit.  Somewhere out there, ponies were counting on her.  Starlight, who she’d agreed to help.  Twilight, who had reached out to her through the journal, hoping and praying.  Her friends, who she would never see again.  Hundreds of thousands of ponies she’d never met.

            	Atta girl.  You got this, Sunset Shimmer!

            	Through the haze of pain and oxygen debt, she forced her mind to concentrate.  Here, within the crushing expanse of the time spell’s arcane passage, the potion didn’t seem to be affecting her.  Her horn lit with a blaze of crimson fire, and she wrapped herself in the strongest shield she could summon.

            	Suddenly the pain lessened, if only slightly.  The sound of the clocks was still fading and jerking about irregularly, however, and the green light was beginning to dim.  Or maybe that was her brain asphyxiating.  Sunset wasn’t sure.

            	Her next spell was one she’d only cast once; something she’d learned on a bored whim years ago, before abandoning her studies under Celestia and fleeing to the human world.  A blood-oxygenation spell, something for use in medical emergencies.  Or scuba diving emergencies.  It was a stop-gap; she still needed to breathe, but it would keep her awake and aware for a few moments longer.  Suddenly everything brightened, and she was able to focus enough to think about what had happened.

            	Somepony (or perhaps someling?) had recreated one of Star Swirl’s time spells.  They had cast it using the arcane gauntlet she now wore.  She glanced down at the device; the metal was cracking and warping, and the crystals embedded in the sides were dull and dim.  She could feel nothing from the device.

            	Whoever had cast the spell knew how it worked in a general sense, but hadn’t known its limitations.  The spell was simply trying to perform as it was created to perform, but was obviously malfunctioning due to the switch in targets.  If she couldn’t figure out how to stabilize the spell, she’d be torn apart.  Carefully, she raised her gauntleted hoof to her horn and touched it with her magic.  The gauntlet felt… empty.  Maybe even a little hungry.  She poured a little more in, and saw the red gem on the side of the gauntlet sparkling slightly.  She flared her horn, filling the battery with magic, and watched as first the red gem, then the yellow and three green, began glowing with a steady light.

            	In the green glow around her, white circular symbols appeared, like clocks, spinning within each other.  The sounds of ticking stabilized, increasing in volume until it pounded in her ears.

            	But now Sunset had a new problem.  Her eyes drooped with fatigue; filling the gauntlet had taken more out of her than she’d thought.  Her horn sparked and flickered, and it was a struggle to keep it lit.  She cast her blood oxygenation spell again, but she could feel the feeble spell struggling to form.  She had maybe minutes before she started to asphyxiate again.  Possibly even less.

            	The problem was, the spell took far more energy to return to the present than it had to slip into the past.  Sunset knew this because that was how Starswirl designed time spells; she’d studied the theory back when she’d been Celestia’s student.  It was a failsafe, made to preclude steps that went too far back into the past.  Starswirl hadn’t wanted to chance too much tampering, and if a pony could only go back for a short period, to the recent past, there was a lessened chance of catastrophic consequences.  Whoever had cast the spell with the gauntlet probably hadn’t known this.

            	The good news was that the gauntlet was still powering the spell.  She could see the glowing lights flickering on the side, and guessed that they worked much like the battery indicator on a human cell phone.  She’d filled it full, but two of the green lights were already dim and the third one was flickering.  Perhaps all she needed to do was pour more magic into the battery, and it would finish its work and drag her back to whoever had sent the rescue changeling.

            	But magic was never that simple.  She touched her flickering horn to the gauntlet, to feel the flow of motes through the device.  They were dispersing at a rapid rate, dissolving into the spell construct she was trapped in.

            	“Okay, Sunset, you’re smart enough to figure this out,” she muttered into the aether.  “The spell is draining motes faster than you can replenish.  With your luck, there won’t be enough to finish powering the spell.  Even if there is, you might be out of air before then.”  Her voice echoed into the green nothingness, which was odd because there was no air.  Sound shouldn’t even be traveling here.  Then again, she could hear the ticking of the clocks.  They were once again starting to slow.

            	Oddly enough, the idea amused her.  Starswirl was brilliant, but he had always imbued his spells with idiosyncratic aesthetics, like the clock motif within the arcane construct of a time-travel spell.  All around her were circular clock symbols, each one spinning at a different…

            	Wait.

            	She reached out to one of them with her magic.  She was barely strong enough to touch the symbol, but it lit with a cerulean glow.  The round interior suddenly flickered to life with an image; a windswept island and a crashed airship.  Distant figures were crawling out of the wreckage.  Sunset tried to peer closer, to see what was happening, but her magic faltered and the image disappeared.

            	Taking a deep breath, she reached out to another.  This one showed a familiar face; Twilight Sparkle, though a tiny foal, straining and grunting with effort, trying to squeeze a spark of magic out of her horn as she stood in front of a large, inert egg.  Sunset lit a third, and this time saw an exhausted unicorn with a silvery grey beard facing off against three hauntingly familiar serpentine monsters.

            	These clocks weren’t simply decorations, Sunset realized.  They were windows.  Glimpses into important events in history.  Turning points, if her guess was correct.  Her discovery gave her a second wind, and she repeated the process.  She saw Luna and Celestia’s bitter fight.  She watched her own desperate flight through the Crystal Castle, Twilight in hot pursuit to retrieve a stolen crown.  She even saw Twilight arguing with an angry-looking Starlight Glimmer, finally yelling at her to leave.

            	There had to be something she could use, here.  Something she could take hold of, to propel herself to safety.  Maybe she could find the window that represented the original time spell being cast.  Maybe…

            	She found something.  A clock, like the others, but this one silent.  It wasn’t ticking; indeed, unlike all the others, this one had no hands.  She reached out with her horn, but this time it didn’t respond.

            	“Stupid horn, come on!” Sunset moaned with frustration.  Black swirls were beginning to spark at the edge of her vision.  Her oxygen spell had worn off.  She flailed with her hooves, trying to run in the gravity-free nothingness, somehow hoping to propel herself towards the clock.  “Please!”  She pushed again, desperately.  Her chest hurt.  Her horn hurt.  She closed her eyes, pushing her magic harder than she ever had before.  Glancing down, she watched as the last gem on the gauntlet, the red light, blinked.

            	Blinked.

            	Then went dark.

            	That was it.  She was going to die.  The spell construct would fall apart, the aether would disperse, and Sunset Shimmer would cease to exist.  Nopony would be left to remember Feather Dart.  Legal Writ and Subpeona.  Melody Flow.  Nopony would ever remember her friends, either.  She was the only connection.  Time would flow on, and…

            	…forget.

            	“No!” Sunset shrieked, the injustice of it all, the utter, uncaring indifference filling her with a cold burn of determined fury.  “I… Won’t… LOSE!”

            	One more time, her horn lit for just an instant, and she reached out to the still clock.  Beyond, was a star-lit sky.

            	Sunset gaped, before feeling an irresistible pull.  She flew through the green expanse, catapulting through the round window and onto a path.

            	She took a deep breath.  And another.  She collapsed in an exhausted pile as she filled her lungs with sweet oxygen over and over. 

Sunset wanted nothing more than to stand up, to open her eyes and look around.  She knew where she was.  There was a time in her life where this was the only thing she’d wanted.  Needed.  She’d even confronted Celestia, demanded to be brought here, along with everything that entailed.

“Hello, Sunset.” 

            	  Sunset finally raised her head to see the pony before her.  Twilight Sparkle stood there, though this was a Twilight Sparkle very different from the one Sunset knew.  For one thing, she was a pony.  She was much taller than Sunset remembered, with a floating, ethereal mane that reminded Sunset of Princess Celestia.

            	“P-princess Twilight.”

            	“Please, Sunset.  We’ve been friends for how long?” The Princess smirked, and for a moment Sunset could see the old Twilight, the unsure, eager, nerdy girl, clutching at the hem of her skirt nervously.

            	“I don’t know if that question has an answer.  At least not here.  Time has no meaning on the Starlit Path.”

            	“Oh, so you know a bit about where we are?” Twilight smiled.  “That will make things quicker.”  She waved a hoof, and dozens of square images appeared in the air around them.  They were scenes from Sunset’s life.  Here, Twilight Sparkle reaching down with a hand to pull a sobbing Sunset from a crater.  There, Sunset embracing a trembling girl with green hair.  Sunset with an angel's wings at the Friendship Games.  Sunset leading her friends against the monstrous form of Gloriosa Daisy.  Sunset’s eyes darted over the images, both the shameful and the triumphant.

            	“I don’t deserve to be here,” she whispered, catching a glimpse of one of her most shameful moments: an argument held with Celestia, standing in front of a mirror.  “I don’t deserve this.”

            	“Maybe it isn’t about what you deserve,” Twilight said.  “Maybe it’s about what choices you made, what choices you didn’t make, and where they led you.  Here.”

            	But it wasn’t what Sunset wanted to hear.  She slumped onto the path, tears streaming down her cheeks.  “I wasn’t there.  I should have been there for you.  I don’t know what happened; if I hadn’t gone camping, maybe I would have seen your messages earlier.  I could have…”

            	A hoof gently touched her lips, and she stopped, looking up at the wise eyes of her first friend; the eyes of a mare who had seen far too much.

            	“I don’t know what that might have changed, Sunset.  What I do know is that you’re here now.  And you have an opportunity.”  Twilight pointed at one of the images: Sunset, with a withered Starlight Gliimmer standing next to her, addressing a ragged crowd of unicorns and unicorn allies, assembled with the determination to take back Manehatten, to make it their own.  A place of safety and love.  “Like you did then.  You can go away, if you wanted.  Disappear.  You unlocked the inner workings of Starswirl’s time spell, I think.  You could probably do something with that.  Use it to go back to your old life, in the human world.”

            	“I can’t do that!” Sunset demanded.  But oh, how she wanted to!  She’d been at peace; enjoying her life with her friends.  It was a life where the only concerns she had were about where she would be attending college, how she would keep in touch with her closest friends.  Even silly, frivolous things like her love life; who she would date, who she would grow to love.  Maybe even put down roots in the human world, and start a family.

            	But that wasn’t for her.  She’d known as soon as she’d seen the stricken look in Starlight’s eyes.

            	“I know, my little pony,” Twilight sounded proud, her voice choked with emotion.  “That’s why you’re here.  You saw this, didn’t you?  When Celestia first showed you the mirror?”

            	“Yeah, but I…” she burned with guilt, her ears drooping with shame.  “I thought it meant something else.  Not… not like this.”

            	“Ponies like you and me were not meant for a predictable life, Sunset Shimmer,” Twilight said.  “Our lives seldom take a path that could be called ‘normal’.”

            	Sunset scoffed.  “That’s the truth.”  She sighed, falling silent as she watched the highlight reel of her greatest and darkest moments.  It was rather bittersweet; to have her most shameful failures paraded before her in this fashion, she couldn’t quite feel proud.  And yet…

            	“You’ve come such a long way, Sunset,” Twilight said, as if echoing her thoughts.  For all Sunset knew, Twilight could; nopony but the alicorns knew much of anything about the Starlit Path.  “Everything you’ve done, everything you’ve chosen, has led you right here.  And I think you’re strong enough to do what comes next.”

            	“Starlight did mention that you would need a new pony to lead the Elements of Harmony,” Sunset said. 

Twilight looked at her, her smile mysterious.  “Did she?  And what do you think of that?”

“I would, if you needed me to,” Sunset admitted.  “But…”

“It doesn’t feel right, does it?” Twilight mused.  Sunset nodded.  “You’re right.  That role is not for you.  That destiny will fall to another, I think.”  The princess sighed.  “I’ll need you there, to help guide the new Elements through the process.  I’ve tried to help where I can, but I’ve been reaching out blindly.  I didn’t know what would happen, so most of my preparations had to be made before events played out.”

“Just tell me what I can do, Twilight.” 

“Simply be who you were always meant to be, Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset snorted.  “Just be myself, huh?  Somehow I think it’ll be more complicated than that.”

“Of course it will,” Twilight laughed.  “But you were always one to tackle a challenge, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sunset looked up at Twilight with her signature smirk.  “Okay, princess.  What comes next?”

“Next?  You ascend.  Then you wake up.  It may take some time, your body and mind has been through quite the ordeal.”  Twilight’s eyes glowed white, and her horn crackled with power.  “Thus begins the reign of Princess Sunset Shimmer.  May it be long, glorious, and full of friendship.”
> Chapter 50
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Part Three: The Phoenix Flame Takes Flight on Wings of Love and Loss



Chapter 50


Personal Journal of Empress Cadance, date unrecorded

I’m worried about Flurry.  She’s been an alicorn nearly as long as I have.  The difference in our ages is almost negligible, given how long we’ve lived together.  And yet she still will not seek communion with the Starlit Path.  I’ve told her about what it is, and what it means to us.  To our kind.

I’m not worried that she can’t find it; I guided her there, once, in a dream we shared.  I’m not the most skilled at dreamwalking, but I’ve always been able to find the thin connection between my dreams and the Path.  I know it’s there for Flurry Heart, too.  But she fears it.

I’ve brought it up many times.  She only gets angry.  The last time was well over a century ago, and it nearly drove a wedge between us.  She shouted at me, told me ‘she would never abandon me or her people like that.’

Is that how she sees what Celestia and Luna did?  Abandonment?  I need to talk to her, to correct her misapprehension, but I can’t.  She won’t even let me say a word about it before she leaves or changes the subject.

It may need to be another.  The time is getting close; there will be new alicorns.  Maybe one of the others will be able to speak some sense to her.  I can only hope.  My beloved daughter needs to know the peace and enlightenment that comes when we commune with our homeland.

Maybe she’ll even be able to speak with you, Twilight.  I know you’re there, if weakly.  Even in death you cannot lose your place on the Starlit Path.

Only why is it so hard for me to find your presence there, some days?

Northern Seas, 1113 AF

To say the mood on board Pearl Shimmer was a lousy one would be an understatement in the extreme.  The ponies' procession back to their rowboat was painfully silent.  Sunset Shimmer (or, more properly, Princess Sunset Shimmer, Emberglow supposed) was still asleep; as far as Emberglow’s diagnosis spells could confirm, she was in a coma with no medical cause.  All they could do was wait and wonder, and bring her back to the ship.

At least there was some good news when they made it back to Pearl Shimmer.  The Diarchy ship that had come to retrieve Mercy Song had left soon after it arrived.  As far as Captain Yancey could tell, the Knights were not going to try to chase them back to the Crystal Empire.  It was a small relief, at least. Captain Yancey was elated to receive his ship’s namesake on board.  The fact that she was comatose didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.

“Captain Yancey will give up Captain Yancey’s own quarters to house Princess Sunset!” he declared, to the cheers of all of his sailors.  Emberglow found it hard to join in.  She hadn’t known the changeling Escher for more than a day or so, but she could certainly see Lofty’s stricken look.  Topaz could barely stand from shaking, all the way back to the boat, and as soon as they made it back onboard Pearl Shimmer Topaz practically fled to their quarters.

A buzzing from above made Emberglow jerk her gaze up.  It was the other changeling, Mahogany. 

Mahogany took one look at their returning party and stiffened, his eyes filling with fury.  He buzzed his wings, landing next to them.  “Where is my nephew?”

“Escher… gave his life to save us.  To save…” Emberglow waved limply to where the sailors were now lovingly carrying Sunset down into the Captain’s quarters.  “To save her, too.”

The changeling pushed his stricken face close to Emberglow’s, and she had to recoil.  If she was being honest, ever since she’d met the two changelings a few days ago something about them had made her uncomfortable.  Especially this one; the older of the two always seemed to be staring at her, as if there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t. 

“I need to know the whole story,” he demanded, voice thick with grief. 

“Do you… would you like to go somewhere more private than a ship’s deck?”

The changeling shook his head.  “No.  I just need to hear what happened to my nephew.”

So she told him.  They moved over to the railing of the ship, watching out over the gently rolling waves as Emberglow spoke about the creature she’d barely had a chance to meet.  Mahogany said nothing, but every time Emberglow glanced over he had tears streaming down the sides of his face. 

It must have been a while later that Rarity interrupted, approaching them from behind.  “I’m sorry to interject, dears, but Emberglow is needed for a bit of a meeting.  Did you…” Emberglow turned to look at them, and Rarity’s eyes widened.  “Oh!  You haven’t even had a chance to clean up, yet.  Well, we can delay the meeting for a bit.”

“It’s okay, Rarity.  I can wait.”

“You’ll feel much better when you do, darling,” Rarity said.  “We’ve all needed to take a few moments to ourselves, after what happened.”

“Go,” Mahogany said, glancing away from both mares.  “And… thank you.”

“Did he have any other family?” Emberglow felt the need to ask.

“Just me,” Mahogany said.  “His mother died when he was too young to remember, and his father passed just a few years back.  I’ve been… out of touch, so he’s mostly been by himself.  Topaz was his family.”

“I see.” Emberglow gulped, her throat tight.  There had to be more she could say.  “Um, if there’s anything you need, anything I can help with…”

“You go clean up, and have your meeting,” Mahogany turned back to her.  There was kindness in his voice, even if Emberglow had a hard time reading his alien eyes.  “Thank you for offering.”

“Sure.”  Emberglow hesitated a moment, but Mahogany was once again lost, staring at the waves.  She trotted off.

Her cabin was right next door to the cabin Lofty, Topaz, and True were sharing, and as she passed she could hear the sounds of an argument.

“Where Esser?” True demanded, and Emberglow’s heart clenched.  “Where Star?”

“True, honey,” Topaz said softly, her voice raw.  “Starlight and Escher are not coming back.”

“No!  Coming back!”  The foal’s voice was snarled with anger and confusion.  Emberglow hurried on before she could hear more choked sobs from Topaz as she tried to explain things to True, while Lofty murmured comforting things to his despairing son.

Emberglow’s cabin was empty, but Rarity and Terminus had left out a small washbasin and several towels.  She closed the door and removed her armor, then her gambeson, soiled with specks of blood from the scrapes she’d gotten courtesy of the caving ceiling.  She took a moment to wet one of the towels, and carefully cleaned the mud, sweat, and blood from her fur.

You’re just not going to think about anything, are you?  Just going to hide from what just happened?  Like you always try to avoid the thought of death.  Coward.

The voice in her head usually sounded like Gadget.  Now it sounded like Escher.  She didn’t even pause in her cleaning to wonder what that meant.

Once again, Emberglow survives while others die.  What makes you so special?

That time it was Gadget.  Emberglow shuddered, reaching down into the water to splash as much as she could over her face. 

It wasn’t a perfect job, but at least she was presentable.  She dressed quickly in one of her spare sets of robes and tossed the soiled towels in an empty bucket laid next to the first.  Her friends needed her.  Everypony needed her to be strong.  She’d have time to break down and mourn later.

The Elements of Harmony had met in the galley.  Each of them sat on the benches around the room, but nopony was looking at each other.  Their eyes were on the floor, or on the walls.  Topaz was curled up in Lofty’s hooves, and Terminus had what looked like a rather tight grip on one of Heartwing’s.

“I’d really prefer us all to take some time to get a handle on what happened,” Rarity began, as soon as Emberglow entered.  “But life doesn’t seem to be giving us that chance.  It seems we’ve been rocketing from one disaster to the next.  At least we’re safe now, I suppose.  And we need to talk about the illusion we saw, while it’s still fresh in our minds.  Heartwing?  Do you know anything about this ‘Adagio Dazzle’ character?”

“A little,” Heartwing said.  “Not much.  We met, once.  During my wilder days, before Fluttershy.”  Emberglow noticed Terminus squeeze his hoof once, but he didn’t flinch.  She had a moment of pride for her friend.  “Before my first time in stone, actually.  She was one of the three Sirens, a family of sea serpents that used the power of their voices to corrupt ponies and spread disharmony.”  He gave a wan smile.  “I told her I admired her work, and we agreed to stay out of each other’s way.  She had two sisters, if I remember.  Both musical names, though it escapes me what they were.

“They didn’t last long after I met them.  Starswirl and his wonder team tracked them down and gave them a beating.  Last I heard, he’d tossed them into another dimension.”

“That’s where I’ve heard of them before!” Rarity’s eyes lit up.  “From the other dimension!  The one Twilight used to visit through the mirror portal!”

She was met by several blank stares.  “Well, don’t all look at me.  I don’t remember half of what she told us about it all, except that everypony there walked on two legs, and they had hands instead of forehooves.  It honestly sounded wretched, until Twilight explained that on the other side, there were mirror versions of each of us.  There was another Rarity, another Twilight, and so on.  It’s where Sunset used to live, even though she was from our side of the portal.”

Emberglow could barely follow as Rarity weaved a bizarre tale of an alternate reality, a singing competition, and somehow destroying the Sirens’ ability to sing.  “I’m sorry that I don’t know all the details.  In retrospect, I clearly should have paid more attention.  Sorry.”

“Well, whatever the reason, it seems this ‘Adagio Dazzle’ didn’t take too kindly to being thwarted.  We villains rarely do,” Heartwing shrugged.

“You’re not a villain any longer,” Terminus nudged him with a hoof.  

Rarity gave them both a skeptical look.  “Quite.  It makes me wonder, though.  Was that really all it was?  All this death and hatred and terror, just some bitter creature’s revenge plot?”

“Did it need to be more?” Heartwing said.  “You heard her voice.  She was mad.  She knew Twilight was dead, but kept talking to her.  She was rambling, maybe even a little incoherent.”

“I’m sorry if it’s a little hard for me to accept ponies killing each other so easily.  Some ponies simply are not as experienced in that regard as you.”

Heartwing recoiled.

“That was uncalled for, Rarity,” Topaz said softly.  Rarity flushed, but her frown held steady.

“N-no, it’s fine,” Heartwing glanced down.  “That’s why you’re here with us, Rarity.  You remind us of how the world was supposed to be before it all went bad.”

“I guess we all know why that happened now, right?” Emberglow said.  “I hate to think that all of this misery was caused by one creature.”

“A team of them, more accurately,” Rarity said.  “Cozy Glow was a master manipulator; she nearly destroyed Equestria as a foal.  Tirek was a magic-stealing centaur.  We… that is, Princess Twilight and the rest of our friends defeated them.  I can see why they may bear a grudge.”

“It must have taken a colossal effort to convince all these villains to work together,” Heartwing said.

“You would know a bit about villainous collaboration, wouldn’t you?”  Rarity’s voice was far too innocent, and Heartwing looked away.  But neither one seemed willing to explain.  

Everypony fell silent.  Emberglow couldn’t help but wonder who these names were, who they represented.  Who was Cozy Glow?  Who was Tirek?  Adagio Dazzle?  What had their lives been like?  What had they felt?  Seen?  What… what compelled them to do what they did?

“Be that as it may,” Rarity said, “It hardly matters, does it?  They’re all gone.  And we have a new problem.  The Element of Magic.  Though we may have at least found the Element’s bearer.”

“You mean… Sunset Shimmer?” Heartwing blinked at her, his face thoughtful.

“Why not?  It makes sense.  She was trained by Princess Celestia before Twilight, she even held the Element briefly herself.”

“If I remember the story as Twilight told it,” Heartwing said sardonically, “that wasn’t exactly with permission.  Nor did it go very well.”

“Be that as it may, I don’t see any other alicorns ready to take up the mantle, do you?” Rarity shot back.

“You forget, Twilight didn’t begin her time as Element with her wings, Rarity.  It could be somepony else.”

“Of course it’s possible,” Rarity said dismissively.  “But right now, she’s the best lead we have.”

“If she wakes up,” Emberglow interjected.  She felt oddly like an outsider in this whole conversation, and the looks on the eyes of her companions suggested she wasn’t alone.  Lofty also looked lost, and Terminus was blinking with confusion.  Topaz simply looked exhausted from her place curled up against Lofty.

“I think you should make that a priority, Emberglow,” Rarity said.  “I will as well.  I’ll ask Twilight for any advice she has.”

“And when you say Twilight, you mean…”

“Yes!” Rarity interjected with an exasperated sigh.  “Yes, I mean the construct, or doll, or talking Twilight facsimile.  I’m going to study what she has to say about the whole thing.  Maybe we can learn something useful.”

Meanwhile Emberglow’s heart was sinking.  Another few weeks of barely talking to Rarity, barely being in her company, while she spent all her time with a pony dead a thousand years?  It sounded awful.

“So I know nopony has mentioned it yet,” Terminus said.  “But that ‘Adagio’ thing, that creature, gave the Element of Magic to Diarchy Knights.  Guessing we have a pretty good idea of where it ended up.”

The room felt like it got a little colder.  Emberglow looked around at everypony’s crestfallen faces.  The Diarchy was the one place she wanted to forget, to leave behind forever.  But that wasn’t really going to be an option, was it?

“We’re going to have to go back.”

The words were out of Emberglow’s mouth before she realized she’d been the one to speak them.  She hated herself for being the one to say it.  But it was true.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Terminus ventured, sounding unsure.  “Steadfast Word left the capitol with the Element of Honesty.  Maybe he’ll do it again?”

“I don’t think we can count on Sir Steadfast making the same mistake twice,” Heartwing said.  “And besides, we have another stop to make before we can even think of trying to sneak into the Diarchy to look for the Element of Magic.”

“We could ask Princess Flurry for help,” Topaz said.  Her voice was rough; Emberglow knew she’d been crying quite a bit.  “She’s not your enemy.”

“I’m a prisoner on this ship, whatever permissions the Captain may have given me,” Heartwing said.  “No matter what we do with the Diarchy, we’ll have to deal with Princess Flurry first.”

“Princess Flurry will help us,” Topaz said firmly.  “I know it.”


*   *   *   *   *


There was nothing left to discuss, but nopony seemed eager to leave just yet.  Nopony wanted to talk about Escher, but his death loomed like a dark shroud over everypony there.  Finally Rarity stood.

“I’m going to go consult with Twilight.  Perhaps she has some answers that will help us wake Sunset.”

“C-can I come with?” Emberglow stood up quickly enough that she nearly tripped on the stool she’d been sitting on.  Everypony gave her an odd look, including Topaz, who had a small smile.  “I’d like to help!”

Rarity paused, looking at her for a few moments, then nodded.  It wasn’t the enthusiastic response Emberglow had been hoping for, but it was enough.  She followed Rarity out of the galley towards their cabin.

“You seemed rather eager, there,” Rarity noted.  Emberglow felt her face heating up.  It was time to be honest.

“I’ve been missing what we had before the dragon,” Emberglow admitted.  “I just feel like you’re moving further and further away from us.  Or me.”

Rarity’s expression softened, and she gave a little smile and a nod.  “I’m afraid I may not be very good company at the moment, but of course you’re free to join me.”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.  Emberglow and Rarity moved into the cabin, where Rarity retrieved the Twilight construct.  A touch of her magic woke it up.

“Good evening, Twilight,” Rarity said politely.  “Emberglow and I are hoping you could answer some questions for us.”  Her horn stayed glowing, and a journal floated over, along with a few quills.

“You’ve been taking notes?” Emberglow asked.

“I have.” Rarity sighed.  “I was never one to bury myself in books and study fastidiously like Twilight, but I’m finding that, the more I listen to her, the more it makes sense for me to keep a record of the things I’m learning.”  Rarity laughed.  “It’s a little silly.  Sometimes I joke with her that I’m becoming more and more like her every day.”

“Like her, how?”

“As my friend Rainbow Dash would have put it, perhaps I’m becoming a bit of an egghead.”  Emberglow cocked her head to the side in confusion.  “Don’t get me wrong, darling.  I don’t believe I’ll ever feel the true joy of learning for learning’s sake, of burying myself in research and study the way Twilight always did.  But I have to understand what Twilight gave me.  I have to make sense of it.  Otherwise, what good am I?”

“Rarity…”

“Sorry about that, darling.  We didn’t come so you could listen to me being all mopey and introspective.”

“Well, if you want to talk about it, we can put the session with the construct on hold.”

Rarity seemed to consider this for a moment, and Emberglow’s heart beat faster.  Maybe they’d actually get a chance to really talk!  But then Rarity shook her head, and Emberglow’s heart fell.  “No.  No, I think we need to understand what happened to Sunset Shimmer.  So we can wake her up.  Twilight darling, what can you tell me about the process of Alicorn ascension?”

“The process of a pony from the three tribes ascending to become an alicorn is difficult to explain and to understand,” the construct began.  “Before I share more, a query; this construct was designed to respond to either Starlight Glimmer, Sunset Shimmer, or Rarity.  Of those three, has one of them ascended?”

“Sunset Shimmer has, darling,” Rarity said, her eyes widening slightly.

“Then I will lock most information about ascension behind voice recognition for Sunset Shimmer.”

“Lock?  What do you mean, lock?” Rarity’s voice filled with panic.

“Access to most information about ascension will be accessible only to the voice and magical signature of Princess Sunset Shimmer,” the construct said.

“So… I could have lied, and said it was me?  And you would have locked it to my voice and signature?” Rarity pouted.

“That information is not stored in this construct.”

Rarity was seething, and Emberglow had to stop herself from reaching out to comfort her.

“Very well then, Twilight darling.  What can you tell me about alicorn ascension?”

“The processes and circumstances of ascension are a deeply sacred secret to alicorns.  In the past, ponies of nefarious intent have tried to pry the secrets from various Princesses throughout time.  As a result, I find it prudent to include safeguards around that sort of information.  However, since there may be no other alicorns nearby, it was necessary to include it in the construct anyways.”

“We have an alicorn who is unconscious.  In a coma.  We don’t know if it is from her ascension, or from something earlier,” Emberglow chimed in.  “Can you tell us anything about why an alicorn may be in a coma?”

“The process of becoming an alicorn is both physically and magically taxing.  When it occurred to me, Princess Celestia was there to guide me through the process.  I didn’t know at the time, but she was feeding me some of her own magic, her own energy, to allow me to move through the process more comfortably.  It may be that an alicorn, experiencing ascension under stressful circumstances, will be sleeping off the effects for days.”

“What can we do to help?  Does she require a feeding tube?  Or an IV?”

“While alicorn physiology is different than average ponies, an alicorn will still require food and water, though it would take much longer to starve one of us.  It is recommended for the health of the alicorn that you employ either medical or magical means to feed the comatose patient.  Some examples of unicorn spells to that effect are included in this construct, and will be produced on request.”

“Can you tell us about the process itself?  What caused Sunset Shimmer to ascend in the first place?” Rarity asked.

“That information is secure behind a voice analysis and magical signature of Princess Sunset Shimmer.”

“Oh good,” Rarity snarled.  “We’ve now managed to teach her another phrase to annoy me with.  Maybe I should have just lied.”

Emberglow, the Element of Honesty, gave her a look complete with thin pressed lips and raised eyebrows.

“Kidding!  I’m kidding, Emberglow.  Twilight, please teach us those spells.  We’d like to do our best to ensure that the new princess is as healthy as possible, and wakes up soon.  I believe her to be the new Element of Magic, after all.”

It turned out to be rather more complicated than Emberglow thought.  The construct was not a good teacher, and from Rarity’s own huffs of frustration, Emberglow was sure Rarity was feeling the same thing she was.  The construct was very technical in its explanations, and lacked the more personal interactions Emberglow was used to from a flesh-and-blood teacher.

It also didn’t help that the construct was describing a unicorn spell.  While, in theory, her teachers back at the Ivy Seminary had said that all unicorn spells, save telekinesis and teleportation, could be translated into rune spells, the practice of doing so was not something she’d ever had to consider.

“I’m sorry, Rarity.  I’ve never had to translate a unicorn spell to runes before.” Emberglow sighed with frustration after the construct had repeated her instructions for the fifth time.  “Maybe we need to ask Heartwing for help.”

A look of distaste oozed over Rarity’s muzzle, and Emberglow immediately regretted the suggestion.  “I’m sorry, Emberglow, the thought of spending any length of time closed in a room with him is…” she waved a hoof.  “…still too soon.  Even with your lovely company there to soften the blow, as it were.”

Emberglow tried not to blush at the compliment, even though the news that Rarity had still not yet come to terms with Heartwing’s presence was a bit of a blow.

“I promise to ask him if we become desperate.  But I think you’re going to be much more help than he is. I simply don’t have the medical training to understand exactly what Twilight is talking about,” Rarity groaned.  “It may take a while to work something out.”  A small smile graced her muzzle.  “Perhaps not the date you were hoping for, darling, but I think we’re going to need to spend a lot more time on this.”

Even though Emberglow was fairly certain Rarity was simply trying to change the subject from obtaining Heartwing’s help, she couldn’t help but laugh nervously.  “Um, okay.  I’ll do my best.”

The next few hours until bedtime weren’t anything like the date they’d had in the Nyumba ya Joka market, but it was certainly pleasant to sit and study alongside Rarity.  It made Emberglow think of all those times she’d tutored Lofty, teaching him rune magic, and the not-so-subtle crush he’d been harboring at the time.

At least this time, Emberglow was at least getting a few hints that her crush was not as one sided as his has been.

It was with no little annoyance, then, when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.  She and Rarity shared an exasperated look and a small smile, before Rarity’s sing-song voice called out, “Come in!”

Terminus poked his head in, his face flushed slightly.  “I thought I’d knock, in case…” he cleared his throat.  “Um.”  Emberglow glanced away quickly.  “Some of the sailors are pretty grateful for what we did, and what Heartwing did.  You know, with the cyclone?  So they offered to double up, so they could clear out an extra cabin for Heartwing and I.  Since he isn’t really going to be staying in that damp cage in the ship’s bottom any longer.”

“That’s kind of them,” Emberglow said, when she saw Rarity’s mouth harden a little at the mention of Heartwing’s name.

“Yeah,” Terminus said.  “So I’m just going to gather up some things, and then we’re going to bed.  Early, I know, but…” he trailed off, looking down and away with a tiny smile on his face.

“You need some ‘private time’,” Rarity guessed.  Terminus nodded, a little quickly.

“After what happened, I really feel like I need to do something life affirming, you know?” Terminus said, slipping into the room.  Rarity gave out a little giggle, and Emberglow didn’t even want to know just how red she was.  “There hasn’t been much opportunity lately, you know?”

“I don’t need to hear the details!” Rarity sounded just a little panicked, and Terminus laughed as he picked up his saddle bags from where they’d been stored underneath one of the cabin’s bunks.  He gave them all a little wave.

“You two have fun, okay?” he slipped out of the door.

“Does he think…” Emberglow could hear her own heart pounding, and barely held back the urge to hyperventilate. 

“I don’t know what he thinks,” Rarity said.  “But it doesn’t matter.  This was a lovely evening, darling.  Maybe we didn’t make much progress, maybe we did.  But I’m rather glad you spent it with me.”

“I want to do more,” Emberglow said before she could even consider stopping herself.  “Rarity… you…” her thoughts and words jumbled together, tripping over each other on their way to her tongue and out of her mouth.  “I mean, I enjoy spending time with you.  Really enjoy it.”  Rarity’s eyes were wide, and Emberglow just now realized how close their muzzles had grown.  She gulped, her mouth suddenly very dry.  “I don’t even know what comes next.  Or how.  But I want us to be more.  Am I even making sense?”

“You are, darling,” Rarity began, after a heartbeat of silence.  But then she sighed and glanced away.  “I…”

Something in Emberglow’s chest broke.  The hesitation, the way Rarity’s eyes wouldn’t meet hers.  “I… I see.  I’ll back off, I can…”

“N-no, that’s not what I meant!” Rarity’s gaze snapped back to hers, and she held out a hoof to stop Emberglow in the act of turning to leave.  “I want to have this conversation.  I do.  Just… not right now?  Not in the wake of what happened earlier?  Please.”

Emberglow stared at the other mare, studying her face, getting lost in her eyes for a few breaths.  There was no lie Emberglow could see.  She nodded.

“Okay.  I can be patient,” Emberglow said.  “It’s not like… I know what I’m doing anyways.  I’ll need you to guide me, every step of the way.”

“Because I’m such an expert at romance?” Rarity quipped sarcastically.  “With my many failures, and a reputation for virginity that has lasted a millennia?”

“Don’t take that to heart, it’s just—”

“Relax, darling.  I’m just being silly.”  Rarity leaned close, their lips almost touching.  “I never thought I’d be here.  Going on dates that involved studying, of all things.  Princess Twilight would be beside herself with glee.  Rainbow would never let me live it down.”

She was close enough that Emberglow could smell the shampoo she’d used to clean up after their misadventure on the island, and feel the gentle breeze of her breath.  Some deep, primal part of her begged to just lean that much further forward, to span the divide, bridge the gap and meet in the middle.

Rarity did it for her.

Their lips touched, gentle and soft and wonderful.  For a moment, Emberglow waited, listening, for the voice in her head, the nagging, hateful voice that sometimes sounded like Gadget, sometimes like the nameless Adamant she killed, and now sometimes sounded like the changeling Escher.  It never came.  Instead, all she could hear were the gentle splash of the waves lapping against the side of the ship and the hoofsteps of the sailors above them, on deck.

And of course, the needful little sounds both she and Rarity made as they pressed their lips against each other.  It was enough to drive all inkling of her own doubts from her head in a wave of heat, burning away the guilt, the regret, and the shame she’d lived with her entire adult life.

This was nothing like Emberglow’s first kiss.  This was no quick peck, followed by fear and regret.  This was a meeting, a melding of passion and fire.  Their lips moved together, and when something tiny and wet danced along Emberglow’s mouth, Rarity’s tongue, she parted her lips at the request.

Emberglow felt a hoof running through her mane, and she leaned in, pressing her front against Rarity, reaching out herself to embrace the other mare.  She closed her eyes, drowning out sight, ignoring sounds, and just let herself feel the silky texture of Rarity’s mane, smell the scent of her, of soap and clean and Rarity, and feel the touch of her lips, the dance of their tongues.

Far too soon the kiss was over, and Emberglow found herself panting for breath, opening her eye to see Rarity’s own half-lidded blue eyes gazing at her.  She could see the flush of Rarity’s cheeks, her own face hot as well.  She wanted to lose herself in those eyes forever.

Suddenly Rarity’s eyes widened, and she jerked back a few inches.

“I-I’m sorry, darling.  And right after I said I wanted to wait to have this conversation.  I just… couldn’t help myself.”

“To be fair, we weren’t doing much conversing,” Emberglow said, and Rarity gave a snort of laughter before blushing and covering her mouth with one hoof.  “You’re right, though.  I’m so—"

“Don’t you dare apologize for that,” Rarity whispered urgently.  “That was exactly what I needed right now.  And you were wonderful, in case you were wondering.”

“I was?” Emberglow stared at Rarity dumbly.

“Don’t you doubt it for a second.”  Rarity sighed, and released her embrace, stepping away from Emberglow with a look of longing.  “But I really am sorry, myself.  After suggesting we wait—”

“If I’m not allowed to apologize, you’re not either,” Emberglow said firmly, tapping one hoof on Rarity’s muzzle.  “You also have nothing to say sorry for.  That was…” she giggled when she realized she had no words.  “I really needed that.”

“Well, then, we shall have to have study dates more often!” Rarity declared.  Emberglow smiled along, but inside her a dark little jealous flame flared to life.  It had been fun spending time with Rarity.  Cathartic, even, after the tragedy earlier.  And what they were working on was important.  But every time Rarity called the construct by Twilight’s name, or spoke to it as if it were the real Twilight, Emberglow felt some dark, irrational worry deep inside her.

“I’ll look forward to them,” Emberglow said.  “For now, though, I think I should get some fresh air.  Go for a walk on the deck.”

“Is everything all right?” Rarity’s eyes narrowed a bit.  Could she have noticed?

“It’s fine,” Emberglow said, and with a hint of boldness that came from who-knows-where, she leaned forward, giving Rarity a quick peck on the lips.  “But you’re right when you suggested earlier we should be taking this slowly.  I need to head off before I’m much more tempted to take things too far.”

“Oh?” Rarity said coquettishly.  “I must say, a lady does like to hear when she is desired.” Emberglow’s heart fluttered again.  This time Rarity leaned forward to kiss Emberglow back.  “Have fun on your walk, Emberglow.  And remember, I’m thinking about you.”

It wasn’t fleeing when Emberglow made it out onto Pearl Shimmer’s deck.  A tactical retreat, maybe.  Disengagement.  But she knew her head wasn’t in the right space for what was happening, and she really wanted it to be.  But that didn’t stop her from wanting to burst off the deck in a flurry of flight, dancing through the cooling night air on giddy wings as she frolicked with the stars and the clouds above.

Glad you’re happy.  Is this the last betrayal?  The last bit of you left to murder, before you fully embrace your new life as a traitor to everything your parents raised you to believe?”

Ruthlessly Emberglow shoved the voices deep.  Not tonight.  Not right now.  She wanted just a few moments to savor what had happened, to remember the taste of Rarity on her lips before the inevitable happened, and the cacophony of guilt, shame, and regret once again pounded through her head.

The night shift on a sailing ship was not very exciting, but there were still sailors about, working by lamplight.  She greeted them with a cheerful wave, and received respectful bows in return.  That was odd; none of these creatures had the same respect and fearsome awe for the Knighthood that Emberglow had grown reluctantly used to back in the Diarchy, and even in Angel’s Rest.  But then she remembered.  Just a few hours earlier, she’d brought an alicorn princess, one that shared a likeness with their figurehead, back to rest in their captain’s cabin.

The sailors didn’t ask any questions as she made her way to the port side of the ship, looking out over the waves.  The moon above them was gibbous, hanging fat and pregnant in the sky and shining a silvery bit coin of light onto the gentle motion of the waves.  She watched it for a while, trying not to think too hard.

Rarity.  Rarity liked her.  Desired her, she’d implied.  But she was right; this was something they had to be patient about.  What Emberglow wanted with Rarity was not a casual fling, a dive between the sheets in a fleeting moment of comfort for grief.

And even then, anything between them wasn’t without baggage.  Rarity was still harboring a grudge against Heartwing.  However deserved that might be, Heartwing was Emberglow’s friend.  And of course there was the matter of the Twilight construct.  But even with all that, even though her rational mind was screaming at her to cool off, slow down, it had still been a heroic feat to drag herself out of that room and not beg for more, right then.  The feel of Rarity’s lips on hers, the electric sensation of their bodies pressed together in a warm embrace…

Emberglow’s shiver had nothing to do with the cool night breeze.

Emberglow’s time of solitude was short-lived, though.  Soon there were hoofsteps behind her.  She didn’t turn to look, expecting that perhaps Rarity had followed her out.  But then the pony stepped up beside her, and she realized it wasn’t Rarity, it was Lofty.  His face was troubled, but he also gazed out over the ocean waves.

Neither pony spoke.  Lofty seemed lost in his own thoughts, as was Emberglow.  But the sounds of the ship were soothing, and she found herself desiring the timbre of her old friend’s voice.  After a day like today, though, what was there to talk about?  She said the first thing that popped into her head.

“Mares are weird.”

Lofty’s whole body jerked, hard enough that Emberglow turned to look at him in shock.  He wasn’t hurt, though, he was shaking with silent laughter.  He was holding one hoof in front of his muzzle in an effort to hold back the tide, but it was slipping out.

“Hey…”

The dam burst, and Lofty was cackling with laughter, throwing his head back, his eyes closed.  Emberglow was sure she could see tiny trails of tears at each of his eyes.

“Lofty Tale, I swear…”

He held out a hoof to pat her on the withers, shaking his head while he still giggled.  “S-sorry.  Just didn’t think… ever hear that from you!”  He snorted again, letting out another gale of laughter.  She rolled her eyes and shoved him lightly.  “Congratulations, Emberglow; you’ve now had the very same epiphany as every single eight-year-old colt who’s ever lived.”

“Shut up, you,” Emberglow mock-scowled.  “I’ve got an excuse.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I know,” Lofty rubbed at his eyes with one hoof.  “Still, really funny to hear you say it.  Last time I had that thought, I got really drunk and made an idiot of myself.”

“Right…” Emberglow looked away.

“Don’t.”  Lofty moved his hoof, gently pulling on her face so that she wasn’t hiding from him.  “Don’t feel bad.  I was an idiot, and I almost ruined the best friendship I ever had because I was thinking with my fifth leg instead of my brain.”

Emberglow just had to snort out a laugh.  “Lofty!”

“Really!  I’m grateful, you know.  For how things turned out.  It led me to make certain choices.  Maybe bad ones, some of them, but they led me here today.  I might not have True.  I might not have Topaz in my life, if things hadn’t happened the way they did.”

“You're welcome, I guess?” Emberglow shook her head.  “I feel like now I should be saying stallions are weird.”

“No, we’re the normal ones,” Lofty scoffed.  “But I’m curious.  What led you to your conclusion regarding the odd behaviors and habits of the fairer sex?”

She eyed him, considering.  This was Lofty Tale.  Her oldest friend.  If she couldn’t confide in him, who could she?  Besides, Emberglow had always been a very serious teenager, and perhaps a little antisocial.  She’d never had a real chance to have a conversation like this, a gossipy little chat about crushes and first kisses with a best friend.

“Rarity kissed me tonight.  After we both agreed we should be moving slowly.  Because we should.  But then she kissed me.  And I kissed her back.”  She was touching her lips with her hoof.  “And it was good, Lofty.  I never knew it could be so good.  Why did nopony tell me?”

“Because it wasn’t printed in a medical textbook?” Lofty teased.  Emberglow scowled.  “Really, though, you don’t have to tell me just how wonderful it is to kiss a mare.  I’ve done it way more than I should.“

“I remember you said something about that in the letter you sent me, when you told me about True.  A little playcolt, were you?”

“And I was proud of it.  I had an idea that I’d be joining the Vigilant, so I thought… why not get it out of my system?”  He laughed ruefully.  “Sex doesn’t work that way.  But for the brief time I was a Knight, I did hold off.  Just flirting and kissing, for all the good it did me; True was conceived before my vows, and I didn’t even learn of him until much later.”  He smiled.  “Look at me now.  A one-mare stallion.  Who would have thought?”

“That sounds serious.”

Now it was Lofty’s turn to eye Emberglow consideringly.  “It is, yeah.  Really serious.  Emberglow…” he paused, glancing up at the stars.  “Emberglow, I think Topaz is ‘the one’.  Like, the forever mare.”

“You’re a real sap, you know that?” Emberglow teased, but her smile split her face wide.  “But really?  You think you’d like to be with her forever?  Even marry her?”

“Don’t say anything yet?” he pled.  “But yes.  I know it hasn’t been long, but I think so.  I love her, Emberglow, and True adores her, too.”

“You think you’re good enough for her?”  Emberglow had to tease, if only because he did it back.

“Oh, Saints, of course not.  But she hasn’t figured it out yet, so don’t you dare tell her.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Lofty Tale,” Emberglow said solemnly, then remembered something Heartwing had said once.  “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

“That’s cute,” Lofty raised an eyebrow.   “Where’s it from?”

“You’d have to ask Heartwing,” Emberglow shrugged.

They were silent for a few moments.  “I’m sorry, we got a little sidetracked.  You wanted to talk about Rarity, and I took us off subject.”

“No, it’s really okay,” Emberglow insisted.  “Hearing about you and Topaz makes me happy.  We need good news tonight.”

“So if you want to feel happy, why don’t you tell me about Rarity?  The real one, not the one in the Book of the Saints.”

“Rarity is…” Emberglow waved a hoof airily, her mind searching for the right words.  “Rarity is, well, Rarity.  One of a kind.  She’s nothing like she is in the Book, as I’m sure you’ve already seen.”

“I’m quite impressed with what I’ve seen,” Lofty said.  “She’s decisive, she’s determined and passionate.  Her heading to the Treaty Hall to rescue you was a sight to see.  She was like a thundercloud, ready to blow down any obstacles in her way to get you two free.”

The mental image of Rarity braving danger to rescue her made her stomach flutter in silly ways, but she didn’t mind.  Emberglow was sure Lofty could see her blushing, even in the moonlit night.

“But she’s more than that.  She’s… unstoppable.”  Emberglow remembered the day in her Angel’s Rest boutique, where Rarity and Klieo had browbeat her into accepting the gifts of dresses.  “She’s fiercely protective of her friends, and what she thinks is right.  If she wants to give you a gift, she won’t take no for an answer.”

“Rarity sounds perfect.”

Suddenly the image of the Twilight construct popped into Emberglow’s mind, and she shook her head.  “She’s not.  She’s got her issues too.  I think she’s still struggling to come to terms with how much things have changed, and I’m worried she’s using her construct to avoid facing it.  There’s nothing I can say about that, though.  She gets very defensive every time I’ve suggested she’s hiding away from things by talking to that construct of hers.  And she can hold a grudge.”

“Nopony is without flaws,” Lofty nodded with mock sageness.  “Topaz, for example, snores.”

“Rude!” Emberglow accused, laughing.

“But we love our ponies because of their flaws, I think,” Lofty said, his eyes distant and wistful.  “Besides, it’s a little nice to know that she’s not perfect.  Living up to the legacy of one of the Saints is…” he shivered.  “It’s some big horseshoes to fill.”  He paused.  “Do you think Rarity resents me?  For wielding her element?”

“I don’t know.  I haven’t talked to her about it.”  Emberglow wanted to say something comforting.  But she just wasn’t sure.  “I’m sorry.”

“She was a little awkward when we met.  I could tell it was bothering her.  Any advice?”

“Just have her spend more time with True,” Emberglow said.  “Anybody who spends half a minute with your adorable son seems to forget all your personal flaws.”

Lofty snorted with amusement.  “You know?  That’s not a bad idea.”

A cool wind blew across the deck of the ship, and both ponies shivered.  “We should probably head to bed.  It’s getting late.”

“Sure,” Lofty said.  “Um, one thing, though.  I have a favor to ask, if you’re up to it.”

“Okay?” Emberglow was curious.

“Esher’s uncle, Mahogany.  He’s…” Lofty looked tense, like he was choosing his words very carefully.  “He’s going to need a friend.  This is going to hit him really hard.”  Lofty sighed.  “It’s hitting all of us, of course, but Escher was his only family.”

“You’re asking me to befriend… him?” Emberglow tried not to shiver in nervous fear.  There was something so utterly alien about the changelings; with their almost pony forms, their smooth, unadorned chitin, their pupil-less eyes.  Every time she saw him, all the old voices of confessors and teachers from her past, words of fear, words of warning and hate and unkindness, flowed through her memories like an unwanted guest.

Non-ponies were not to be trusted.  Non-ponies were dangerous.  Non-ponies would lead you into temptation.  It was a litany of hate, and Emberglow hated herself for all of it still being stuck in her head.

“I am,” Lofty said.  “It would be good for both of you, I think.  He…” Lofty looked on the verge of saying something, then snapped his mouth shut.  “Not my secret to tell, I think.  But he should.  And you can tell him I said that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing I can say,” Lofty shook his head.  “But ask him to tell you his secret.  It will do both of you good.”  Lofty’s usual grin slid back onto his muzzle.  “And if he asks you why, tell him it’s revenge for chess.  He’ll understand.”  When Emberglow nodded, though reluctantly, Lofty stretched and yawned.  “Thanks, Emberglow.  I’m going to head to bed.  I’m sure True and Topaz are both snoring away by now.”

“Goodnight, Lofty.  I… I guess I can try, at least.”

Emberglow frowned as she watched him retreat back down into the ship’s cabins.  That was probably unnecessarily cryptic.  She wondered what Lofty meant by all that.  It didn’t seem to Emberglow like Mahogany wanted anything to do with her, the way he kept turning his stare on her over the few days she’d known him.

But, she’d said she’d try.  But maybe it should wait for the morning.  She’d go check on her alicorn patient, then head to bed herself.


*   *   *   *   *


There was no change in Princess Sunset Shimmer’s condition, and Rarity was already asleep when Emberglow went to bed.  She noticed that Rarity had left the Twilight construct out on the small desk they shared in their cabin, but her notes were all put away.  A small, jealous part of her wondered if Rarity liked having the figurine there to keep her company.  She barely resisted the urge to put it away.  Or perhaps something a bit more violent than that.

Her sleep that night was hollow and mostly dreamless, though towards the end she woke up panting and sweating.  It had been a short dream.  Like many of her nightmares, she’d been back in Manehatten, sitting in her tent, where Gadget had kissed her.  Only this time it wasn’t Gadget, it was Rarity.  Every time she leaned in to touch her lips to Rarity’s, she could hear the murmur of voices around her.  Disapproval.  Condemnation.  Judgement.  She kept jerking away, looking to see who the voices were.  But there was nopony there, only the sound of large, feathery wings swooping overhead.  Like a bird of prey.

Emberglow wondered how you could feel exhausted, frustrated, guilty, and aroused all at the same time.  It seemed like something she should have a chat with Topaz about.

But Topaz was still in mourning, and Emberglow wasn’t about to intrude on that for her own needs.  The nightmares would just have to continue.  She was sure she could handle things on her own.

So Emberglow made it her task to keep her promise to Lofty over the rest of their trip.  It wasn’t easy; the dour changeling seemed to want to be left alone entirely.  It was impossible to corner him on the ship, and after several days of trying, Emberglow was convinced he was avoiding her.

Study time with Rarity wasn’t going much better, either.  The glow of excitement wore off as they continued to search the construct for information.  Emberglow felt like she was learning magical theory from the ground up; and lacking a horn to actually practice the theory Twilight was teaching, it felt like a waste of time.

“I honestly feel like we’re going about this the wrong way.  We’re not using all of our resources,” Emberglow said finally, after an entire week on board Pearl Shimmer had led to no real breakthroughs.

“Whatever do you mean, darling?” Rarity asked, suspicion lurking in her eyes.  She probably knew what Emberglow was going to say.

“We need to be working with Heartwing on this.  He’s offered.”

“He has?  So kind of him.”  Rarity glanced away.  “You’ll have to let him down, of course.  I don’t believe we’ll be needing—”

“Rarity, please!  Won’t you even consider asking him for help?”

“I’ve told you again and again, I’m not quite ready to be that close with him just yet.  We have everything we need with Twilight here.  Now I’ve said my piece on the matter, and I’ll thank you not to bring it up again.”

They stared at each other, two thunderheads of fury building behind polite veneers.  But Emberglow was done with this stupid game.

“Twilight Sparkle,” she addressed the construct without taking her eye off Rarity.  “Do you have instructions for if your user is becoming so obsessed with you she won’t spend time with her other friends?  Perhaps because she’s letting irrational grudges keep her from growing and learning from you?”

“Irrational grudges?  I’ll have you know—”

“Rarity, is this true?” the construct said, and Rarity paused, peering at it with wide eyes.

“O-of course not, Twilight dear.  My grudge isn’t irrational.  And I haven’t—”

“This construct was designed to detect prevarication.  The assessment that user Rarity is avoiding friendships may be accurate.  This construct will be inaccessible for a period of at least twenty-four hours.  Rarity, whatever is going on with you right now, would you please go talk to your friends about it?”  The construct went silent.

“See? Even the construct Twilight Sparkle made thinks—”

“Darling?  I think we’re done here.”  Rarity’s voice was cold enough to make Emberglow flinch.  “Go ask Heartwing for help, if you’re so determined.”

“But what will you do?”

“I think that’s hardly your business, is it?  I suppose I’ll make do on my own.”

Emberglow fled out of the cabin, turning fast enough so that Rarity wouldn’t see the tears leaking down her cheeks.

Oh, well done, Emberglow.  She hates you now.  She’s probably safer that way.  The things you love tend to wind up dead, don’t they?

“Shut up!” Emberglow shrieked, slamming her hooves against the deck of the ship.  She heard a startled noise from down the hall.  Mahogany was standing there, watching her.  “What?” she snapped, before she could bite the words back.

“You got a minute?” he asked, his voice polite.

“Sorry.  I’m sorry.  Yes, sure.  What can I do for you?”

“I know you’ve been looking to talk to me.  Let’s go up on deck and talk.  Some of the sailors have spotted a pod of whales in the distance.  Maybe we’ll get close enough to see something impressive.”

Emberglow looked at him skeptically, but he simply turned and walked up the stairs without another word.  She followed after him, only to have him pause at the top of the steps.

“Is everything okay?” He sounded concerned, and it seemed genuine enough to her that she stared at him in shock.

“No.  But there’s nothing you can do about it.”  That sounded harsh.  “Thanks for asking, though.”

He turned, and Emberglow saw the worry in his eyes.  It was confusing; she’d barely met him, so why was he concerned about her?  But then he turned again, and opened the door to the deck.

“Okay,” he said.  “Come see the whales with me, and we’ll talk.”

Outside, the air was bitingly cold, and Emberglow shivered.  They were moving further and further north.  Captain Yancey had provided cold weather gear for all of them, but Emberglow had no desire to brave the cabin she shared with Rarity in order to retrieve it.  She supposed she’d just have to suffer a bit for her pride.

The first thing she saw when she reached the deck were the sailors.  While they still went about their tasks, several of them were lined up on the side of the ship, gazing out towards the south.  Over their heads and shoulders, Emberglow could see plumes of water splashing into the air.

“C’mon, up to the crow’s nest.  It’s bigger than it looks, and Greengills won’t mind if we give him a break.”  He didn’t wait for her answer as his carapace split down the back, opening to reveal a pair of translucent, bright green insect wings.  They buzzed as he sprung into the air, and she followed him up.

In the crow’s nest was one of the diamond dog crewmates.  He had blond fur, and a sleek, elongated muzzle that reminded Emberglow of a golden retriever.  He glanced at them as they arrived.

“Hey, Greengills,” Mahogany said.  “Mind if we borrow the nest for a bit?  We’ll keep watch for you.”

“Fine by me,” the dog shrugged, then nimbly leapt over the side of the wooden tub-shaped platform.  Emberglow was about to yell in alarm until the dog’s claws dexterously wrapped around the rope ladder that led here.  With a level of grace that looked awkward coming from the strange form, he slid down the ladder to where the rest of the crew sat.  “Just holler when you’re done, I’ll climb back up!”

“Greengills?” Emberglow asked, confused.

“Don’t really know his real name,” Mahogany said.  “Sailor nickname.  I’ll bet he had seasickness when he first came aboard, or something.”  With that, he settled down into the crows nest, patting the platform next to him.  Emberglow landed.  “Look.”

Emberglow looked, and she gasped.  There was a difference between an academic knowledge of what whales are, and seeing them in the wild.  The creatures were massive.  One of them might have been half as big as the ship, and there were at least three that she could see.  They would surface, sometimes firing off a plume of water from their blowhole, then sink back down with a majestic flick of their tail, sending up another colossal splash as they did so. 

“They’re huge,” Emberglow breathed.  She tried to count them all, but she wasn’t sure given she didn’t know how often they would surface then sink below again.  “Could they hurt the ship?”

“I suppose.  If they wanted to.  But they’ll leave us alone if we leave them alone.  And there’s no chance those sailors down there would even dream of harming a whale.  They’re seen as good luck.”  The changeling snorted with amusement.  “Superstitious lot.”

“That small one, there,” Emberglow pointed.  “Is that a juvenile?”

“Yes.  Whales tend to stick together in family groups, from what I’ve read.”  His voice drooped a little at the end.  “Though sometimes the males go off on their own, roaming about from group to group without a real family.”

Emberglow regretted the question.  Of course she’d find a way to make this conversation difficult.  She tried to glance at Mahogany out of the corner of her eye, watching the whales while trying to watch his reactions at the same time.

“So Lofty said I should ask you about your secret.  He said it might help you to talk about it.”

“He said that, did he?” Mahogany’s voice was inscrutable.  “Meddling little bastard.  He’s right, maybe, but it’s none of his business.”

“I think he’s worried about you.”

Mahogany snorted.  “He would be.  Silly stallion.”

There was something in the way he said it that triggered something in Emberglow, some sort of déjà vu, but she couldn’t quite put her hoof on why.

“You can tell me if you want.  Or not.  I’m not going to push,” Emberglow said.  “But… would it help if I thanked you?”

“Thanked me?  Why?”

“Your nephew saved my life.  I owe a debt.”

Mahogany didn’t respond.  He leaned up against the side of the crow’s nest, his forehooves crossed in front of him and his gaze looking far into the horizon, past the boat and the whales and the entire ocean.  Emberglow was fine waiting; though it was chilly, she found the cold wasn’t biting like it had when she’d first gotten on deck.  Maybe it was a pegasus’ natural affinity for working in high altitudes and cold places.  Or perhaps she was just invested in the conversation, and the whales.

“I should apologize, too,” Emberglow finally said, after several minutes.

“You?  Why?”

“I don’t know that I’ve been as kind to you, or Escher, as I could have been.”  She swallowed hard, and steeled herself.  “You’re just so different.”

Mahogany snorted.  “Would you be more comfortable if I took pony form?”

“Now?” Emberglow shook her head.  “No, I don’t think so.  I know your true form.  You shouldn’t need to hide yourself in front of me.”

“That wasn’t always true, was it?” he mused, and she glanced away to look at him.  He waved a hoof to the west, where the Diarchy lay.  “I’ve been a spy nearly my whole life, Emberglow.  Pretending to be a pony so I could feed information back to the Empire.  I’m used to hiding myself in front of ponies.”

Kinda makes your racism dig even deeper, doesn’t it?  You’re so afraid of looking at the scary alien bugs that part of you wants him to take pony form, to make you more comfortable.

This time it was Escher’s voice.  She shivered.  “Y-you’ve lived most of your life in the Diarchy?  What was that like for you?”

“Our training is hard.  They teach us about the dangers of getting too close to the ponies around us.  But at the same time, we make our cover personas as close to our actual selves as possible.  So it’s impossible to not form relationships, friendships, that sort of thing with our neighbors.  There’s a craving to pretend to be normal, to feel… real for once.  It’s a weakness, but we all do it.”

“Did you have friends?”

“I did, yes.”  He swallowed, hard, and spoke very slowly.  “Before I made a mistake that blew my cover, I’d grown very close to several of the ponies in my neighborhood.  Especially the silly pegasus filly that lived in the tailor’s shop next door.”

It was quite the revelation.  Huge, even.  Emberglow took a deep breath.  Then another.  She took a third, waiting for the shock, the surprise, the overwhelming tide to overtake her, like it usually did for each new stunning blow to her world.  Instead she just felt numb.

“Why not tell me right away?”  She was amazed at how calm she sounded.

“I don’t know,” Mahogany said.  “I really don’t.  I’m a spy, Emberglow.  I’m trained to be suspicious by nature, and to keep secrets.”

“But you’re telling me now.”

“Yes.  I’m sorry.”

Emberglow blinked, then turned to the changeling.  “Why?”

“For lying to you, maybe?  For being a spy, for years, living next door to you?”

“That was your job.”  She guessed she should probably be angrier about all this.  Or have any sort of real reaction to find out one of her oldest friendships had been a lie.

“No, Emberglow.  You were never part of the job.  You, your parents, the other friends I made…” he sighed.  “When I was younger, in training, I forgot.  I was caught up in the glory of what I was doing.  Fighting the good fight against the evil to the South.  But the Diarchy isn’t the ponies who live in it.  You were all such good ponies.  Such good friends.  I would have stayed, if I could have.”

“What happened?”

“I got sloppy,” Mahogany snorted.  “Overconfident.  I’ve been a spy for over three decades, and I slipped up.  My job was to infiltrate the Star Shine building and keep an eye on the inquisitors in charge of receiving reports from the dragon and griffon war fronts.  I was just there for observation, to read and copy documents and reports, that sort of thing.  I was careless, and left a quill behind when I was copying legers in their library.  The librarian noticed the quill out of place, got paranoid, cast a few forensic spells and… next thing I knew there was a Mystic black-bag squad breaking down my door.”

“How did you escape?”

“They weren’t prepared for a changeling.”  His smile was full of grim pride.

“I need to know.  Our meeting.  Our friendship.  Was it all coincidence?”

“I…” Mahogany stared out at the whales.  “I can’t say.  Maybe?  Only I’m not sure I believe in coincidence any longer.  Why was it that after I escaped, I was one of the ones chosen to go back south with the Embassy?  Why was I assigned to the task force helping Lofty Tale rescue his son?  So that me and my nephew could end up here?  So he could end up dead?”

There were tears in his eyes. .

“Is this all my fault?  I started the chain of events that led to my nephew’s death, Emberglow.  So was it coincidence?  Or just the natural consequence of my own mistakes?  If I’d never become a spy, if I’d never accepted either mission to go South, would Escher still be alive?”  His eyes begged for understanding and answers, and the small block of ice in her heart, the part that kept her numb, melted a little.

“Can I call you Oak Chips, still?”  It wasn’t what she’d meant to say.  Emberglow had meant to ask about his nephew, or say something comforting, or even just to reach out and hug him.  But when she spoke, her words took on a life of their own.

“Huh?”

“I asked around, when I found out.  Nearly got in trouble with the Mystics myself for being too nosy.”  She took a deep breath.  “If you’re going to blame yourself, Oak, then you need to know what your actions did for me.  If you’d never gotten caught, I never would have agreed to the mission that sent me to Manehatten.  I never would have found the truth.  I never would have found Rarity, or the Element of Honesty.”  Finally she did reach out, wrapping a hoof around him and pulling the changeling against her.  She wondered why he’d ever appeared alien to her before.  Even with his hard carapace, she could feel his warmth.  “You saved me, Oak.  Without even meaning to.”

She held him close.  He finally reached around, hugging her back.

“Silly mare,” he said, a hint of his old accent coloring his voice.  She laughed.

“Thanks for telling me, Oak.  Thanks for bringing me up here.”


*   *   *   *   *


In the following days, the temperature dropped dramatically.  It was no longer an option to go out and suffer through the cold; everycreature now wore heavy parkas, hats, and scarves every time they went out on deck.  Not even the pegasi were immune, though Terminus did complain about having his wings tucked away under the thick coat.

Rarity, for her part, stayed mostly in the cabin she and Emberglow shared.  Since their fight, Emberglow had avoided Rarity as much as possible; she didn’t know what she could possibly say to fix things, and being with the other mare just made her think of the kiss.  Not talking was better than fighting.  At least that’s what Emberglow told herself when the new loneliness cut her to the bone.

Emberglow did speak with Heartwing about their problems translating the spells the Twilight construct was teaching them into rune spells, but Rarity was still upset at both of them.  To be honest, Emberglow understood.  She felt awful for tattling on Rarity to the construct, but she’d been so frustrated.  She hadn’t known that Princess Twilight had programmed the construct to shut down like that.  At least the shut down had ended; Rarity was once again hard at work learning about her newfound power.  From what Emberglow could tell, she was at least still trying to figure out Twilight’s complex medical spells in order to help Princess Sunset.

In the end, though Emberglow realized they’d probably have to simply wait until they reached the Empire, and spoke with another alicorn.  Hopefully Princess Flurry would be able to help, or maybe one of the unicorns that lived up north.

On a cold, clear morning, nearly a month from leaving Jubilation, Emberglow found herself rising early and pacing about the deck.  She was cold, even under her parka, but the moonlight up above was a comfort to her soul, if not her temperature.  Luna had been silent in all of their dreams recently, but they still frequently felt her presence, if not her words.

“Couldn’t sleep?” The voice came from above her.  Emberglow glanced up to see Oak in insect form, dangling by one hoof from the rope ladder that led high up into the rigging.

“No.  What are you doing?”

“Getting some elevation for the view.  The crow’s nest is needed for ship’s business, but I still wanted to see.”

“See what?”

“Come on up and I’ll show you.”  He scrambled nimbly down the ladder, motioning for her to climb.  “Get up as high as you’re comfortable, and keep your eyes to the west.  If I’m right, we’re close enough.”

She saw the sparkle of excitement in his eyes, and she pulled herself up the ladder.  The ship spread out darkly beneath her, lit by the sailor’s lanterns so they had enough light to do their tasks.  On the ladder, Oak was right behind her.

“What am I looking for?” Emberglow asked.

“Shh.  Just keep watching to the west.  You can’t see it now, but soon.”

Emberglow did as he asked, hanging onto the rigging with both hooves as she focused on the horizon.  The first glow of sunlight was appearing in the distance.  Emberglow thought she could see something, perhaps land, but she couldn’t be sure.  She kept watching, scanning the horizon for any hints of whatever Oak was talking about.

Then, just as the first rays of sunlight burst over the horizon, she saw it.  The light hit the edges of the dome, invisible in the darkness, but glorious in the rays that scattered across it.  It was iridescent pink, with geometric panels just like the shields Emberglow was used to.  But if she could see it at this distance, it had to be…

“It’s massive,” she gasped.  “And it’s beautiful.”  It was like a sparkling gem on the horizon.  After a few moments of sunrise, it was nearly impossible to look at, shining so brightly that she had to avert her eyes.

“Even more beautiful, when you think about what it is, and what it means.”

“That’s the shield, isn’t it?  The one that keeps the Empire separate from the Diarchy.”

“It is.  Powered by the love of the citizens themselves, given freely to the Empress Cadance, so that she may keep us all safe and protected.”  He smirked.  “Except for those of us dumb enough to accept assignment outside the Empire, of course.”

“How does it work?” The details of such a massive casting were fascinating to Emberglow.  She remembered reading everything that she could get her hooves on about the shield, back when she was Turquoise’s squire.

Oak chuckled.  “I really don’t know.  But my guess is you’ll be able to ask the Empress herself.  You’re not some grunt, Emberglow.  You’re important.”

“Me?  I’m nopony special.”

“Horseapples.  You’re an Element of Harmony.”  She glanced down at him in horror, and he was grinning.  “You’d better get used to the idea of being a bit of a celebrity.”

Emberglow didn’t like the idea one bit.  Suddenly staring at the steadily growing gemstone on the horizon wasn’t as attractive.  “I’m coming down, now.”

“Sorry, too much?” Oak Chips backed down the ladder to make room for her.  Emberglow gulped and nodded.

“A celebrity?  Really?”

“What did you expect, Emberglow?  You’re literally walking in your Saints’ hoofsteps, now.  And in the Empire, that will mean something to these creatures.  We’ve been hoping for a change in the status quo, something that will bring things back to the way things were between the Empire and Equestria.  There’s tons of pony expatriates, too; even more than in Jubilation.  Ponies who may have distant relatives in the Diarchy.  You represent hope that this could all come true.”

“I’m no Saint,” Emberglow whimpered, and Oak wrapped a hoof around her.

“No, you’re not.  But you know what?  Neither were they.  Look at Rarity.  Is she the perfect goddess you used to worship?  Or a flawed, wonderful, complicated, problematic mare whom you’re in love with?  And which one do you prefer?”

“T-the second,” Emberglow stammered, and Oak squeezed her tight.

“Of course you do.  Silly mare.

“When we get home,” he said, “you’ll get a chance to meet Empress Cadance.  Share your struggles with Rarity with the Empress herself.  You might find a willing listener, eager to help.”

“The Empress?  Help m-me?”

“The least you can do is ask.  What’s the worst that could happen? Love is her field of expertise.”

He trotted off with a smug look on his face, and Emberglow stared after him, wondering.  She realized she hadn’t thought much about what would happen once they reached the Empire.  She knew they’d have to sort out what would happen to Heartwing, and maybe what might happen to she and Terminus, but she’d mostly been thinking about returning home to the Diarchy to find the Element of Magic.  Now, the idea of the Empire was ominous.  Not frightening, necessarily, but she wasn’t quite comfortable with the idea of being a celebrity.  She was just starting to enjoy being treated more like a normal pony.

But maybe there was something hopeful she could do, right now.  She trotted down to her cabin, where she’d barely been the last few weeks except to sleep and change clothing.  Rarity was there, scratching out some notes with her magic while the Twilight construct was speaking.

“…the case of a long-term enchantment, the motic structure can be bolstered by the use of complementary spell constructs, in the form of magical foci or permanent runes.  Though the process often requires several unicorns working in perfect harmony, this is the method by which enchanted objects and locations can be created.  Some examples include…”

“Twilight, stop a moment,” Rarity said when Emberglow entered.  “You look like you have something on your mind, darling.  Can I help you?”  She was being cool, but polite.  Emberglow took a deep breath.

“Yes.  I’d like to show you something up on deck, if it’s not too late.”

“Too late for what, Emberglow?” Rarity rose from her seat, carefully placing the quill she’d been levitating down next to the construct.

“Come on.  You might want to throw on a parka, though.  It’s rather cold.”

“If I’d known we’d be sailing into a veritable freezer, I would have designed our own winter wear,” Rarity grumbled as she floated her own coat out of the room’s chest and onto herself.  “These utilitarian pieces are simply an eyesore.”

They were, indeed; the parkas were all a uniform bright orange color, designed to improve visibility in case of emergency.  But Emberglow stopped herself from pointing out the obvious.

“I would have loved to see what you would have come up with,” Emberglow said, and Rarity’s eyes widened with surprise.  “I’m sure they’d have been wonderful.

“Thank you, darling.  What is it you wanted to show me?”

“Follow me.”  There wasn’t peace between them just yet; Rarity’s voice was still a bit stiff, but Emberglow was willing to count it as a win that she was even following in the first place.

Out on deck, the reflection of the sun against the distant magical dome was still sending rays of pink light across the sky.  Rarity gasped in awe and delight, rushing over to the side of the ship for an unobstructed view.

“It’s as if somepony put mother-of-pearl over a pink tourmaline.  Or perhaps some sort of opal. Why, it’s just lovely!  This is the shield over the Crystal Empire, isn’t it?”

Emberglow moved up beside her, keeping a small space between them as she leaned up onto the rail beside Rarity.  “Yes.  We’re nearly to Armor’s Bay.  The sailors say it’s only a ten minute train ride from there to the capital itself.”

“The Empire has grown since I was there last,” Rarity said.  “It used to be only a single small city, surrounding a magnificent palace.”

“I didn’t realize you’d ever been there before,” Emberglow said.

“You mean, your book doesn’t cover our fight against Sombra?”  Rarity asked.  “I admit I haven’t looked much at it since… since the slanderous bit about the…” she cleared her throat.  “Nevermind.  But I would have thought your stories would have told that much, at least.”

“They do,” Emberglow said.  “I’m just not sure what’s real and what’s made up any longer.”

“Would you…” Rarity hesitated, considering.  “Would you like to hear the stories?  Of our trips to the Crystal Empire?”

It was a peace offering, for sure.  Emberglow nodded enthusiastically.

The two mares watched as the glittering pink dome grew closer and closer, while Rarity told Emberglow all about their heroism in the Empire.  She told about the struggle against Sombra, about the Equestria Games, even about the time a baby Flurry Heart nearly destroyed the entire Empire with her out of control magic.  As they spoke, Emberglow felt, at least in part, a tiny rekindling of their closeness.

It was nearly an hour later when they had reached the edge of the shield.  What in the distance had been a vast dome now appeared as a solid wall, towering high into the sky.  Rarity eyed it with apprehension.

“I wonder how we get inside,” she said.  “I don't think it would be practical to raise and lower the shield with every ship that arrives.”

“Oh!  I actually know this one!” Emberglow remembered her research.  “Ship captains authorized by the Princess are given amulets, enchanted by her personally, that allow the entire ship to slip through the shield.  I know the Diarchy tried in the past to acquire some of them, but they were never able to get them to work.”

Indeed, as soon as Pearl Shimmer’s prow reached the edge of the shield, it seemed to slip through with not even a ripple of the pink energy.  Emberglow tensed as the line of magical shielding slipped over the ship, and then her.  Some small, terrified part of her expected the shield to reject her, to push her back and toss her off the ship into the freezing waters below.  But it slid over her with nothing more than a mild magical tingle which made her fur stand on end.

“Huh.  Somehow I was expecting… more drama, I suppose,” Rarity noted, brushing at her parka.  “Well, it was a rather fascinating experience.  Thank you, darling, for dragging me out of my cabin to come see.”  She leaned over, giving Emberglow a light peck on her cheek.  “I suppose I should—”

“I’m sorry!” Emberglow blurted suddenly.  Rarity raised her eyebrows.  “I’m sorry.  I owe you an apology. I didn’t know the construct would shut you out like that.  I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“Friends are allowed to have disagreements, Emberglow,” Rarity said, tapping her lightly on the nose with her hoof.  “You should have seen the epic tiffs Rainbow and Applejack used to get into.”

Rarity closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.  “And I should apologize as well.  I realize that whatever my issues with Heartwing may be, you are still his friend.  I can be patient about that, and seek his help with Princess Sunset.  Let’s get everything sorted out with Princess Flurry, and I’ll ask him for his assistance.”  She gave a light laugh.  “Assuming we still need it, of course.  I wonder if Princess Flurry will just be able to wave her horn and make everything right with Sunset Shimmer again, and we can go on about our business of finding the Element of Magic for her.”

“You think Princess Sunset will carry the Element of Magic?”

“It seems logical,” Rarity said.  “She is, after all, a powerful wizard.  Trained by Celestia herself, and later Twilight Sparkle.”

Emberglow wasn’t so sure.  The idea of somepony she didn’t even know leading the Elements of Harmony felt… off, somehow.  But she kept her doubts to herself.

“Come, Emberglow.  We should be making landfall soon, and I imagine things will go smoother if we’re all packed and ready to go.”


*   *   *   *   *


It was only a few minutes of packing later that one of the sailors wandered by to inform them that they would be landing in Armor’s Bay in less than a half hour.  Emberglow and Rarity finished their own preparations before moving to the cabin next door and helping Lofty and Topaz, who were both struggling a bit with a cranky foal who had missed his nap and was now rather disruptively protesting the idea of getting off the ship.  Only the promise of a train ride, delivered in Rarity’s sweetest and most cajoling voice, convinced the cantankerous True to finally settle down enough to get dressed in his own winter gear, and to also stop getting in his father’s way.

When another sailor dropped in to inform them that they had docked, the ponies stepped out on deck, dressed in their parkas and bearing their luggage and saddlebags.  Emberglow had considered stowing the shield of Flash Magnus in her bags, but some instinct told her to strap it to her hoof.  Rarity approved.

“It looks wonderful on you, darling.  Delightfully martial.  You’re the picture of a storybook hero.”  She even fluttered her eyelashes a bit.  “The kind of dashing hero to fly off and rescue princesses and fashionistas in distress.”  She paused thoughtfully, a sly smile crossing her muzzle.  “Have I ever mentioned I find tall, fit ponies to be particularly attractive?”

Emberglow was certain that her blush would remain a permanent feature of her face the rest of the day, as well as the need to stand as tall as possible.  Not that she wasn’t already a little taller than Rarity, but an extra bit of effort wouldn’t hurt, right?

The Knights and their friends gathered on the deck, waiting as the sailors secured the gangplank.  As she stepped onto the deck, Emberglow caught her first real glimpse of the Crystal Empire.

Armor’s Bay was a small port surrounded by crystalline cliffs.  The cliff walls which sheltered the harbor were tall, perhaps twice again as tall as the crow’s nest of Pearl Shimmer.  They were smooth, nearly too smooth to be natural, which fit what the sailors had said.  It had been built, Emberglow heard, when the Crystal Empire had to cut itself off from Equestria, and needed its own port to ship and receive goods and trade, rather than relying on their southern neighbors for commerce.

The docks themselves were made of stone, a light pink material that also couldn’t have been natural.  It was as if somepony had summoned them into place.  Emberglow could see the light shine on the surface, as if the entire floating structure had been made out of crystals.  Given where she was, she wasn’t surprised.

Standing on the docks was a contingent of soldiers, dressed in purple armor and bearing spears.  A unicorn stood at the head, with epaulets on his shoulder guards marking him, she guessed, as some sort of lieutenant.  He watched the ship, sternly running his eyes over the deck.  When his eyes rested on the Knights, particularly Heartwing, they narrowed with anger.

As soon as the gangplank was secured, the soldier pushed his way up it onto Pearl Shimmer’s deck.  “I am Sergeant Lockstep, of Her Highness’ Imperial Guard.  I was told I would be escorting a prisoner to the palace?”  He pointed at Heartwing.  “Why is the prisoner not secured for transport?”

There was a loud thud, and the whole deck shook as Captain Yancey leapt down from the quarter deck to land in front of the Sergeant.  To his credit, Sergeant Lockstep didn’t flinch.

“Captain Yancey is captain of Pearl Shimmer.  The prisoner has been behaving perfectly.  We even required his help to fend off an assault by a Diarchy ship.  He has agreed to continue to behave well.  Captain Yancey took him at his word, and Captain Yancey has not been disappointed.”  He turned his gaze to Heartwing, and bowed.  “Not in the slightest.”

“B-be that as it may,” Sergeant Lockstep said.  “The prisoner is accused of regicide and treason.  He must be secured.”

“Please,” Heartwing said, sliding between the two before their argument could really escalate into something problematic.  “I have no objections to being bound.  The chains are still in my cell, in the ship’s hold.  I won’t fight it.”

Terminus frowned at that, but nopony else protested.  With a shrug, Captain Yancey ordered a sailor into the depths of the ship to retrieve the old restraints, which had apparently been left there ever since Emberglow had taken them off while they were being chased.  The wait was awkward, with Captain Yancey and Terminus both staring daggers at the Sergeant, while he pretended not to notice.  Emberglow and the others simply waited and worried.

“At least there was no mention of putting the other Knights in chains, darling,” Rarity said.  Emberglow nodded, though she had to bite back a comment about how little Rarity seemed to care that Heartwing was going back into chains.

When the sailor arrived, Heartwing stood proudly, willingly allowing Sergeant Lockstep to bind him.  Terminus was shaking with fury.  Emberglow moved next to him, to put a hoof around him.  He calmed visibly when she did.  “Sorry.”

“For what?” Emberglow asked.

“It’s just…” he whispered back.  “After everything he’s done for ponies.  All the hours he’s dedicated, all the blood he’s shed.  This is what he gets.  I hate it.”  He shivered.  “I hate it and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Suddenly Heartwing began to laugh, and Sergeant Lockstep backed away a hoofstep or two, staring at him in worry.  “Explain yourself,” he demanded.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Heartwing said.  “I was just thinking.  I’m all chained up, and it’s not even my birthday.”

“What?” The Sergeant scowled in confusion.

“No, don’t you dare,” Terminus moaned, sotto voce. 

“It’s usually the sort of thing my stallionfriend and I save for special occasions.  Though if you like, I can tell you where in my luggage the ball gags are stashed.”

“So help me I will spank you when I get you alone,” Terminus muttered, low enough that Emberglow thought only she could hear.  Though when Heartwing turned back to smirk at them, she was blushing just as hard as Terminus was.

“Promises, promises,” he whispered, and winked.

“Enough of that,” the sergeant snarled, and finished attaching the restraints, including a halter.  He pulled the reins in front of the prisoner.  “I’ll have no shenanigans on the way to the palace.  You’ve got an arraignment before the Princess, and I won’t stand for any disrespect.”

“Will you lie down for it, then?” Heartwing even waggled his eyebrows, and the Sergeant growled and leaned forward threateningly.

Terminus was in his face in a heartbeat.

“Thus far we have been patient.  We have accepted everything you have done.  But I swear to you, by the Element of Harmony I bear, that I will not allow you to abuse this stallion in my presence.”

The air suddenly froze with deadly tension; the soldiers still behind on the docks started forward up the gangplank, spears at the ready.  But Sergeant Lockstep eased back, and held up a hoof to his soldiers.

“Stand down, guards.  You are correct, Sir…”

“Terminus Flash,” Terminus said.

“You are correct, Sir Terminus, and your loyalty does you credit.  I was warned beforehoof that the prisoner would probably seek to torment me with his words.  I should have had better control of myself.”  Sergeant Lockstep’s words were stiffly professional.  “Thank you for the reminder.”

“You won’t object if I stay close, in case you need another?” Terminus said, his own voice mimicking the chill in the Sergeant’s.  The sergeant nodded reluctantly.  “Good.  Because he is dear to me, and I value his life far more than my own.”  The sergeant actually gulped at the hard stare he received.

“Stay as close as you like.  We’re moving to the train station.  Be aware that any attempt at escape will be met with swift and brutal force.”

“You can trust us, Sergeant.”

“There is room on the train for all of you, of course.  I was informed there would be a party of nine, with one foal and two changelings?”

Emberglow saw the faces of her companions fall at that.  She stepped forward and spoke up.  “No, Sergeant.  One of the changelings met an unfortunate fate.  But he was able to save the life of another pony in the process.  She’s in a coma right now, but I’d like to keep her close.  She’s a patient of mine, and I think the Princess would very much like to see her as well.”

She knew the sailors had arranged for a stretcher to carry the slumbering princess from the captain’s quarters to the deck.

“Who is…” the sergeant began, then his eyes shot wide as two diamond dog sailors brought out Sunset, with the stretcher held carefully in their claws.  Emberglow had dressed her patient in a simple linen shift, cut so that she’d have room for her wings, and it was obvious to everypony watching that this was an alicorn.  “By the Empress, who is she!?”

“Sunset Shimmer, saved by your own comrade-in-arms, Escher,” Emberglow answered.  “He died to bring her through time.  When she arrived she looked like this.”

“Lieutenant Escher passed?” Lockstep gasped.  “I knew him.  I…” he turned to his soldiers, pointing at one, a crystal pony.  “Quicksilver.  Hurry on ahead and inform Princess Flurry that the prisoner is on his way,” he glanced towards the sleeping alicorn.  “And tell her that there is now another alicorn princess.  Sunset Shimmer.”

Quicksilver saluted and dashed off, more quickly than Emberglow would have expected.  “He’ll reach the palace before we can, though not by much.  Soldiers, show these good sailors to the passenger car.”  He looked at the Knights.  “The rest of you, follow me.  And no funny stuff, prisoner.”

“I’d salute you, but…” Heartwing wiggled both his eyebrows and his chains, before Sergeant Lockstep pulled on his reins and Heartwing jolted forward.


*   *   *   *   *


The Knights had a passenger car all to themselves.  It took a while for everypony to get inside and settled in, especially Sunset Shimmer on her stretcher.  Both of the dog sailors paused after they laid her reverently on one of the benches.

“Just wanted ta say, Knights,” the one Emberglow remembered was nicknamed Greengills.  “Y’all saved Sunset Shimmer.  Our Sunset Shimmer.  Like what’s on our ship.  Uh.  Thanks.  She’ll be okay, right?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Emberglow said.  Both of the dogs nodded, then turned towards Sunset, kneeling on one knee each as they bowed their heads, touching one hand first to their noses, then to their throats.  She wondered what the ritual meant, but whatever it was, it felt sweet to her.

Then the dogs exited the car, and Emberglow took her seat on the bench next to Sunset.  She took a moment to look around the car.  It was comfortable, with brightly colored benches in pairs, facing each other.  A row of enchanted crystals spread across the ceiling, glowing in a green and blue pattern that Emberglow realized may have been meant to simulate the fabled Northern Aurora; something she’d read about but of course had never seen. 

The soldiers directed Heartwing to one of the benches and Terminus sat next to him, coolly ignoring the looks the crystal pony guards were giving him.  Sergeant Lockstep sat across from them, twisting his spear in his hooves.  He never set down the reins, leaving them looped around his right hoof as if he expected Heartwing to make a break for it at any second.  Heartwing, for his part, held his peace with quiet dignity.

The others all took their own seats, including Rarity across from Sunset and Emberglow.  True, however, never seemed to land in one set bench, content to orbit around the cart in a display of foalish energy that was strangely exhausting to watch.  He kept darting back and forth between the windows, and cooing in awe at the armor of the Empire soldiers.  He even had them laughing when he asked if he could hold their spears, which earned him a stern denial from his father.

Much to the foal’s disappointment, however, the trip did only last ten minutes.  When the train cars opened, Emberglow realized that, true to his sergeant’s word, Quicksilver had indeed made it back before them.  A team of ponies, led by a too-young looking crystal pony stallion dressed in a doctor’s coat and wearing a stethoscope, were the first to greet them on the open-air platform.  He rushed into the car before anypony could even stand up.

“By all the stars above, it’s another alicorn,” the young doctor breathed, sliding to his knees in front of Sunset Shimmer.  He quickly pressed a hoof gently to her neck, feeling for a pulse.  What followed was a quick and skillful exam by the doctor, a flash of an assessment, before he looked up at Emberglow.

“You’re the Knight who was taking care of her?” the doctor asked.

“Emberglow, of the Discordant,” she said, holding out her hoof.  He shook it, a wide smile growing across his muzzle.

“Heartthrob Pulse,” he said.  Objectively, Emberglow could see why.  He was handsome, and that wasn’t something she usually noticed in stallions.  His long mane was tied back in a girlish ponytail, and his eyes were eager.  “Royal physician.  Can you tell me more about her condition?”  He turned behind him and beckoned with a hoof, while a team of nurses wheeled a gurney onto the car.

Meanwhile, everypony else was getting their belongings ready, waiting for a chance to disembark once the medics were out of the way.  True was twitching, his eyes eagerly locked on the open door, held back by one hoof from Lofty and another from Topaz.  Emberglow understood the curiosity; she couldn’t wait to see the Empire for herself.

“We know very little about alicorn physiology, so we were hoping you could help with that,” Emberglow said.  “My diagnosis spells show that she’s in a coma, that her heartrate and breathing are normal, and that some sort of magic is keeping her metabolism slowed to a crawl, meaning we haven’t needed to feed her intravenously.  Rarity and I,” she motioned to the unicorn across from her, “found some ancient documents that describe spells which will help keep her fed, watered, and otherwise healthy, but she lacks the medical understanding to cast them, and they’re not noted down in rune format, so I couldn’t either.”

“I’d love to see the work you’ve done.  Meanwhile, I have a clinic set up in the palace.  She’ll be in good hooves.  You have an audience with the Princess, I understand, but I would be fascinated to spend some time meeting with you both.”  He nodded to Rarity, then turned back to Emberglow.  “I’ve never had a former Radiant to pester about healing rune magic before.”

Heartthrob’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement as his nurses very carefully transferred Sunset to the gurney, securing her in.  While Emberglow was watching them, servants had slipped on board the train, picking up the ponies' luggage and saddlebags.

“I suppose we won’t need our things for an audience with royalty,” Rarity hummed nervously as they wheeled Sunset away.  “Still, I wish I had more time to actually prepare.  I’m wearing a parka, for Celestia’s sake.  This isn’t even remotely the outfit to approach a princess with!”

“Even a princess whose diaper you changed?” Heartwing giggled, and Rarity rolled her eyes at him.

“It’s the principle of the thing.  One always likes to be best dressed when visiting royalty.  I wouldn’t expect a ruffian like you to understand.”

Emberglow made it a point to move between them, blocking their view of each other with her body.  “You look just fine, Rarity.  Fantastic, in fact.  I’m sure the princess will understand.  We’ve been in a bit of a hurry, and we’ve just finished a rather long journey.”

“While I do appreciate the compliment, darling,” Rarity replied, “I would have preferred a few hours.  I could have made us all look spectacular!”

Realizing it wasn’t a point Emberglow was going to win, she patted Rarity on the shoulder.  “I’m sure there will be plenty of time for another chance to dress nicely for Princess Flurry.  You’ll just have to save your ideas for then.  Maybe she’ll give you some material, so you can make your own?  It’s been so long since you’ve designed something.”

It was the right kind of distraction.  Rarity’s eyes lit up with inspiration, and Emberglow couldn’t help but stare deep into them.  It was nice to see Rarity getting excited about something other than her studying time with the Twilight construct.

“Let’s go,” Sergeant Lockstep commanded, finally standing and jerking Heartwing to his hooves with the reins.  The rest of them moved towards the door as well, Emberglow eagerly looking out the open portal towards the city itself, which she could barely glimpse from inside.

The Crystal Empire was gorgeous.  The buildings were clearly ancient, massive structures of crystal and carved stone that demanded your attention.  The streets spread out between the buildings like the corners between facets on a gem; everything managed to look both meticulously planned and absolutely natural at the same time.  Even though there was a dusting of snow on everything, Emberglow could still make out a rainbow of crystal colors spread throughout the architecture.

They stepped off the train, and Rarity immediately shivered.  “It’s rather cold.  Heartwing told me the Heart was no longer being used to keep the Empire warm.”  Rarity’s voice dropped.  “The necessities of war, I presume.”

“Rarity?”

Emberglow had been so caught up in the sights of the gorgeous, snow-dusted city that she’d failed to see the magnificent pony standing on the train platform, surrounded by half a dozen guards wearing glimmering golden armor.  Emberglow had to look up at the regal creature, she was so tall.  A radiant purple mane curled elegantly down her shoulders and around her face, with cyan streaks throughout.  She was dressed in a winter parka of her own, but one made of fine faux fur in a soft white.  An aqua colored scarf wrapped around her neck.

Her aqua eyes were wide, locked on Rarity, and her jaw hung open.  The soldiers all stopped and bowed, and even Topaz lowered her head respectfully.  Emberglow didn’t know what to do; part of her wanted to join in the motion, but Terminus, Lofty, and even Heartwing stood tall.  So she did, as well.

“Rarity?  I heard, but I couldn’t…” the princess spoke again.  Her voice was beautiful; a tinkling of bells over a snow-blanketed field.  But then she inhaled, drawing herself up even taller, and her feathery wings spread out behind her.  She cleared her throat.

“Discord, you are…”

“Heartwing,” Heartwing interrupted.  Sergeant Lockstep raised a hoof to cuff him for interrupting the princess, but then lowered it.  “My name is Heartwing.  Not Discord, any longer.”

“You think a change of name will hide you from your crimes?” The princess’ voice was now laced with venom.

Heartwing shook his head.  “Not at all.  But it’s who I am now.  It is the name I took to honor Fluttershy.  I ask you to respect that.”

“You deserve no respect from me, you monster,” she snarled, surging forward quickly enough that her guards jerked in panic, scrambling their hooves to keep up.  Princess Flurry’s horn glowed with an ominous yellow light, and she shoved her face so that it was inches from Heartwing.  He stood firm, his expression blank and patient, though Emberglow was close enough to see the slightest of trembles in his hooves.

“Deserve?  Probably not.  But I ask it anyways.”  A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.  “Besides, I won’t answer to my old name.  So, by all means, if you wish me to be even more aggravating than my charming usual self, continue to use my dead name.”

They stared at each other, muzzle to muzzle, as time ticked on.  Emberglow didn’t dare to breathe.  After a few moments, something cold touched her nose.  She glanced up.  It was snowing.

“Fine.  Heartwing,” Princess Flurry Heart blinked, and Heartwing smiled.  “You deserve nothing, but Fluttershy does.  She certainly deserved better than you.”

Terminus made a strangled, angry sort of noise next to Emberglow, and she reached out a hoof to rest on his shoulder.

“Heartwing, if you insist.  You are under arrest for regicide and treason, as well as vigilantism and rebellion against the government-in-exile of Equestria.  You will be taken in chains to the throne room, where you will be legally arraigned before a trial can begin.  Do you have anything to say?”

“Princess Flurry, as always your eloquence is only surpassed by your beauty and your wisdom.  Lead away to yonder dungeon with much haste, for I wish to see my new accommodations.”

“Do you never take anything seriously?” Rarity hissed from behind Emberglow.  Heartwing ignored her.

“I can have you arraigned here, right now, in front of all these witnesses.  That is, if you truly wish to see the inside of my dungeon so soon,” the princess offered.

For the first time Emberglow noticed the mass of crystal ponies standing about, watching the proceedings with an air of fascination.  There had to be nearly a hundred of them.  Emberglow wondered if they’d followed the princess out for some reason, or if they’d been summoned as witnesses to this event.

“I plead guilty, your highness,” Heartwing said.  “Does that ease your mind and smooth out the process a little?”

Princess Flurry’s eyes widened a little in surprise, before returning to a mask of control and regality.  “It does.  Soldiers, do your duty and take the prisoner to his cell.”  She paused.  “We have been informed that two of your Discordant have also been extradited on charges of vigilantism.  We pardon you for your role in bringing this…” she grit her teeth.  “…this criminal to Our custody.”

“With all respect, your highness,” Terminus said calmly.  “I will be following Grand Master Heartwing to his imprisonment.”

It was oddly formal, the way he used the title Emberglow had almost never heard Heartwing use himself.  But the Princess hesitated, turning from Heartwing to look into Terminus’ eyes.

“I never had my mother’s full talent at it…” the princess whispered, as if to herself.  “But…”  She stood up straight, and there was a kindness in her gaze that Emberglow hadn’t yet seen.  “Very well.  Soldiers, as long as he doesn’t interfere with Heartwing’s imprisonment, this Sir…”

“Terminus Flash.”

“Sir Terminus is allowed in the jail near his lover.”

“Thank you, highness,” Terminus said.

“Now go,” she waved a hoof.  “I wish to speak with an old friend.”   She turned her back as Sergeant Lockstep and his team led Heartwing away.  As her gaze fell on Rarity, it filled with warmth.  “Rarity.  It has been so long.”

Rarity, for her part, looked uncomfortable.  “Not so long, darling.  For me, it feels like just a few months ago I visited the Empire with…” she gulped.  “With Twilight.”

“Of course,” Princess Flurry said calmly.  She stepped forward.  “Would it be too awkward to ask for a hug, though?”

“Never,” Rarity said, and the monarch stepped forward, wrapping wings and legs around Rarity in a tight embrace.  Rarity laughed, though Emberglow could see tears in her eyes.  “Though the last time I gave you a squeeze, you were much smaller.”

“Still mostly non-verbal, I believe,” the Princess laughed.  She broke the hug with a reluctant sigh.  “Come.  I’m sure you’re all tired.  I’ve had rooms in the palace prepared for all of you.”  She glanced at Topaz.  “Even you, Topaz.  Your banishment from my presence has been lifted, if you weren’t already aware.”

“I was wondering…” Topaz said, glancing away with a nervous smile.  Emberglow eyed her curiously.  Banishment?

The princess turned to the assembled, watching crowd, and her voice grew, becoming more formal and commanding.  “This is a great day for the Empire.  We have seen the apprehension of a dangerous fugitive, as well as the safe return of Duchess Topaz Glitter from her daring mission to the South.  We have also seen an addition to the ranks of alicornhood; Sunset Shimmer, who even now sleeps off the strenuous effects of her transformation.  But happiest of all is the arrival of Rarity herself, dear friend to Our mother and aunt.  Please give her and her companions the warm welcome and kindness We know my citizens are capable of.”

The ponies and other creatures in the crowd cheered, even as the gold-armored guards began to gently guide them apart so that the Princess and her entourage could pass.  Emberglow suddenly felt like a thousand spotlights were shining on her as hundreds of curious eyes bored into her.  She wanted to hide behind Rarity, but instead stepped forward with all the others, following after Princess Flurry.  It was like a parade, with the guards fanning out to create a bubble around the Princess and her companions.

The palace itself was in the distance, a towering spike of crystal soaring majestically into the grey sky.  There was something odd about it, and Emberglow realized that it seemed to be floating, suspended over the nearby ground by four curving pillars holding it up over a plaza underneath.  Emberglow wondered just how strong that crystal was as a building material.

As they proceeded down the street, Emberglow couldn’t help but notice just how happy the creatures around them were.  Yaks and Diamond Dogs, crystal ponies and unicorns and pegasi, even the odd changeling or two, all stopped and waved as the Princess passed, bowing before returning to their tasks.  Children scampered about in the snow, tossing snowballs and building snowponies as the sky saw fit to add to the white blanket draped gracefully across the tops of the buildings and the yards in front of the houses.

As the procession approached the palace, Emberglow noticed a large statue of a very young-looking dragon, holding up a crystal heart with a smile on his face.

“Oh, the statue’s still here?” Rarity said.  “Hmm.  How long has it been since you’ve spoken with Spike, Flurry?”  Emberglow gaped at the statue.  This was Mlinzi, the vicious angry creature she’d met?  He looked so… innocent and sweet.

“Centuries,” she admitted.  “He won’t return my letters.”

“We spoke with him,” Rarity said, her mouth forming a hard line.  “He was kind enough to inform me of Heartwing’s…” she stopped, and cleared her throat.  “That was before he tossed us out on our rumps, of course.”

“Twilight’s death hit him harder than most,” Princess Flurry said.  “She was the world to him; his whole family.  By that point Dad was already gone, and of course Grandpa Night and Grandma Velvet.  I was just a cousin.  He stopped speaking to me after a while.  Said he was done with ponies.”  The princess snarled.  “Yet another thing Dis…’Heartwing’ has taken from me.”

“Grandmother,” Topaz began, her voice careful.  “We should talk about that.  Heartwing is one of the Elements of Harmony now.  I don’t think it’s going to be helpful to lock him away.  Especially over something that happened so…”

“I’m not having this discussion with you, Topaz,” the princess interrupted.

“You’re going to have to,” Topaz shot back, stamping a hoof on the hard street.  The princess turned and glared at her.  For a moment they faced off, the princess and the duchess both glaring daggers.  Then the princess spun with a flip of her tail.

“You can say whatever you like at the trial in his defense, Duchess Topaz,” the princess called behind her with cool distaste.  She stormed forward, towards the palace, but Topaz was frozen to the spot, fuming.

“Guards?” Topaz’ teeth were gritted.  “Could you show my stallionfriend and his son to the suite we’ll be using while we’re at the palace?”

“Topaz, what—” Lofty began.

“Sweetie, I’m going to yell at a princess.  Maybe even use the kind of language that True shouldn’t be hearing, hm?  I’d rather you not be there to see it.”

“Ah.”  Lofty looked nervously between his marefriend and his son, before gulping.  “Yes, I think it would be a good idea to see our suite.  Get True settled.  Emberglow, you’ll keep her safe, right?”

“Uh, sure?” Emberglow said, but Topaz was already moving forward, her hooves stomping as she stormed after the princess towards the palace.
> Chapter 51
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 51




Incomplete, tattered document found in the possession of the First Pontiff, identified in future documents as ‘Cozy Glow’.  Date is unknown.  Sometimes referred to as the ‘Fear Doctrine’.

 

…umans do it all the time.  They’re the experts.  They’ve done it with political ideology, with religion, even with the color of their furless hides.  It’s surprisingly easy and it works.  In the end, the group you single out doesn’t eve...n matter.

Obviously we’re using unicorns.  It’s an easy jump for ponies to assu… [a large torn section is missing]

…trick is to isolate ponies from their guilt.  Give them an excuse to hate, a reason.  Make them feel good about hate.  Take away the target group’s uniqueness.  Take away their humanity.  Or equinity, I guess.  It’s not ‘that unicorn down the street that helped me with my mail when I was on vacation’, it’s ‘another unicorn, just like all the others’.  It’s so much easier to hate a monolithic group than an individual.

But one group won’t be enough.  As time goes on, things change, and you’ll need a way to… [another section is missing]

…suggest leaning on current events.  Find somepony to blame for…

…all sorts of examples.  There’s so many different groups you can ‘other’.  Just pick one that’s in the news, and make sure everypony hates them.  You’ve always been great at shifting mass opinion from the shadows, I’m sure you’ll come up with…

…’ll be gone for a few decades, probably.  If you’re not around when I get back, I’ll just say good luck.  It’s been a true pleasure to work with you.

1113 AF, New Canterlot City

Steadfast Word hated being wrong.

It was a nasty sensation, a crawling feeling in his gut.  He had miscalculated.  He’d known it for weeks now.  Months.  The hurt, the shame and regret just wouldn’t go away.  Until he fixed things, that is.

He stared down at the paper on his desk, a mostly blank piece of a dragon fire scroll.  He held the quill in his hoof, pausing with naked potential over a page that contained only two words.

Dear Emberglow-

There was nothing more.  He had no idea where to go next, or how he should even begin.

A sound came from his bed, a groggy sort of moan as Mercy Song shifted about under the covers of his king-sized bed.  Steadfast tried not to sigh.  It was morning, specifically the morning after a wonderful night.  That meant she’d be devastated and guilty.  He’d had the same conversation with her a hundred times the morning after, when she woke up in his bed.  He was sure he’d have it again, this morning.

He heard her sit up and turned to look in time to see her back to him, her hooves wrapped around herself as she clutched the bedsheet around her naked form.  He watched as Mercy deliberately kept her eyes from him as she ran a hoof through her emerald mane, and he had to keep himself from sighing again.

“Good morning,” he called out, and saw her whole body twitch.  “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, thank you,” Mercy Song whispered.  Her voice was mechanical and coolly polite.  Every time they had this conversation, he longed for the sound of passion in her voice, the lustful need as they both sought comfort in each other’s bodies.  It never happened after, only before, when the lust was so strong it overrode her guilt.

“Would you like breakfast?” he asked.

“No.”  It was the same thing Mercy always said.  She slid out of the covers and onto the floor, on the other side of the bed from him, keeping her back to him as usual.  He couldn’t help himself; for a brief moment, he let his eyes linger on his sometimes-lover’s curved, athletic form, her sleek sky blue fur,  the joined eighth notes of her cutie mark.  It may be impolite to stare at a mare’s flank, but she was his…

… whatever they were for each other.  They never talked about it.

“I would love for you to stay.”

“I can’t,” she shot back, barely giving him time to finish.  “You know that.”

The shame of being wrong gnawed at him again.  He hated the feeling, but nopony ever accomplished anything if they weren’t willing to use the resources at their disposal.  And he had one resource here, right now, putting on her undergarments and robes and about to flee his chambers for several weeks, until her own desires overcame her guilt again and they’d fall back into bed together for another mistake.

“I could use your help.”

“You’re just trying to get me to stay,” she muttered.  Finally she turned to look at him, and her eyes twinkled with just the slightest hint of amusement.

“True,” he admitted.  He pointed at the letter he was working on.  “But that doesn’t mean I don’t need your help anyways.”

“Working on your announcement?”

“No.  Brushed Copper is handling that.  I’m just supporting him.”

“As if nopony who knows anything doesn’t realize you’re pulling the strings, there.”

“Why not?” Steadfast shrugged.  “I have this position.  If I can’t use it to make positive change, then why did the Saints put me here?”

“So what are you working on then?”

He slid his chair back from his writing desk and gestured with a hoof again.  “Come look.”

Mercy Song paused and eyed him, stopping in the act of pulling her robe over her head to shoot him a skeptical look.  But curiosity won out, and she trotted over to the desk.  When her eyes rested on the paper, she gasped.

“Emberglow?  You’re writing to Emberglow?” Her gaze darted between him and the paper, face suffused with shock.  “Steadfast, why?  I’ve told you.  She’s beyond our help.”

“That’s probably my fault,” Steadfast said.  “I pushed her before…

“Probably?” Mercy scowled at him.  “You ‘pushed’ her?  Steadfast, you had her tortured.  And then you sent Brightblade to bring her back!  That’s not pushing, that’s…”  She trailed off with a huff of frustration.  “Idiocy.”

“I know.  And you’re right.  I miscalculated.  And now I need to salvage the situation.”

“Salvage the situation?”  Mercy gave a bitter laugh.  “Steadfast, your relationship with Emberglow is over.  She may have seen you as a mentor once, but you didn’t see the fear and disgust in her eyes when I mentioned your name.  I don’t know if you can salvage that.”

“I have to try.  Any advice?”

Mercy’s head tilted to the side, her tail swishing idly as she considered.  “Apologies won’t mean horseapples.  That’s not to say you shouldn’t apologize anyways.  Maybe… tell her what you’re doing today?”

“You mean what Brushed Copper is doing today.”

“Fine,” she huffed again.  “Tell her what Brushed Copper is doing today.  What he wouldn’t be doing without your support.  And approval.  And manipulation at every single step of the way.”  She shoved him gently with a hoof.  “But don’t leave the page blank, silly.  I’d find a less expensive piece of paper to start, though.  Draft the letter a few times before you put it down on the dragon fire scroll.”

“I don’t draft letters,” Steadfast rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Yes, you’re an arrogant fool who always gets things perfectly right the first time.”  She was teasing, but it still burned. “Do it this time anyways, and I’ll look the letter over for you.”

“You mean… you’ll come back?  Tonight?”  He didn’t bother to keep the hope out of his voice.  She looked at him with big, wet eyes, and finally nodded reluctantly.

“Yes.  Yes, I’ll come back tonight.”  Her voice was resigned.  Steadfast wished she could sound at least a little happy about it.  He wished there were anything he could say.

“It’s not doctrinal,” he muttered, and Mercy closed her eyes and shook her head.  “Your oath.  There’s no reason…”  They’d had this conversation before too, a dozen times, and it still made him upset.

“Honesty is doctrinal,” she shot back.  “Oath breaking is a sin, Steadfast.  I…” she opened her mouth and stood there for a few breaths, before closing it quickly.  “…I’ll see you tonight.”  There was nothing more she could say.  There was nothing more to say to her.

Steadfast waited silently as she picked up the last of her things, strewn about the floor in a moment of passion, before politely walking her to his door.

It took a lot of effort to keep a building full of spies from knowing about his affair.  It helped that Steadfast, at least, had nothing to fear from their discovery.  The Knights Mystic had no oath of chastity; they didn’t care who he was romping in the sheets with.  Besides, he was the boss now.  And perhaps it was petty, but Steadfast would make sure any of his Knights who tried to use their affair to hurt Mercy would end up regretting it for an awfully long time.

He stared at the paper before him for several more minutes before finally giving up with a sigh.  He’d take Mercy’s advice.  Of course he would, just like a drowning pony would reach for anything that might pull them out of the water.  He’d really messed up with Emberglow, after all, and it was essential that he find a way to bridge the gap that he had created.

She was the Element of Honesty, after all.

Even after everything that had happened, the thought filled him with such pride, and he found himself grinning.  Emberglow, his Emberglow, the mare he’d been meeting with, guiding, teaching, and standing beside for years now.  He’d felt so betrayed when he was convinced she’d turned on him.  But he’d turned on her.  Of course she wouldn’t have betrayed him if he hadn’t betrayed her first.

“Today…” he whispered, looking at the two words he’d written on the page.  “Today is for you, Emberglow.”

Of course it wasn’t just for her.  Emberglow wasn’t the only shining light to be dimmed or snuffed out by stupidity and ignorance.  But she was the pony who had finally forced his hoof, made him take the step he’d been thinking about doing for years now.

There was a knock on the door.  Steadfast stood up from the desk in his private suite, moving out of the bedroom and into the small parlor, to the door that led to the rest of the residential complex.  When he became the Grand Master of the Mystics, he could have gotten an estate somewhere outside of the city, some sort of manor house, but instead he’d simply asked for larger quarters in the same building he’d lived in for years.

The pony at the door was a servant, pushing a cart topped with a plate of fruit and a large, steaming mug of coffee.  He was one of those employed by the Mystics to see to the needs of the Knights who lived in the building.  Their service was a luxury, and one he’d reluctantly agreed to when he took this role.  It was nice to have breakfast delivered, though.

“Thank you, Cufflink,” he said, and the servant smiled slightly to be called by name.  Steadfast had always possessed a head for names and faces; he only needed to meet a pony once to remember them forever.  He took the tray with the mug, closing the door behind him as the servant bowed in farewell.  He carried breakfast into his room, setting it down on the writing desk as he pulled out another sheet of paper, this time a mundane sheet rather than the enchanted scroll he’d been looking at earlier.  He idly picked up an apple with one hoof and began munching it as he wrote.

 Dear Emberglow

Words cannot express how sorry I am that I…

No.  That wouldn’t do.  How sorry he was that he had her tortured?  There was no way to make that sound sincere.  He scratched out the line and started again.

I am so sorry for what I did.  I was wrong.  If I had realized…

Steadfast scratched the pen across the lines again, growling with frustration.  If he’d what?  If he’d known she was an Element, he would have treated her differently?  That came off as horribly manipulative.

Steadfast was fairly certain she already thought him to be some sort of sociopath, a power-mad manipulator and tyrant.  When she’d come to him, in Camp Borealis, he’d been taken by surprise, off guard.  He’d improvised, and it came off wrong.  And then, of course, in his anger he’d turned her over to Brightblade.

It was true, though.  He was manipulative.  He was power mad.  The Saints had made him that way, had paved his path and set his hooves so that he could be the one to lead the Diarchy back to its true destiny.  He realized other ponies couldn’t see what he saw, though, and he wished he’d realized what Emberglow was thinking before he let his anger take over.  Before he reacted.

I have no excuse.  What I did to you was a mistake.

A mistake?  Steadfast flinched hard.  It was a terrible word for what he’d done.  Not that he would have done anything different, if it had been anypony else.  But Emberglow…

Emberglow deserved more.

This time he only scratched out one word.

I have no excuse.  What I did to you was a grave injustice.

Hmm.  That was better.  He kept writing.

I have known you since you were a young foal.  You always had a bright, eager mind, ready to learn everything you could get your hooves on.  It’s why I have so much respect and admiration for you.

Emberglow, I always intended to share with you everything we spoke about that dark day.

This was true.  She was his… well, not his daughter.  But he saw her as family.  Steadfast had truly meant for her to be part of his plans, a central part.  Perhaps even an heir, though that would have been easier if he had managed to convince her to join the Mystics instead of the Radiant.  Then again, the very stubbornness that kept her eyes on that goal was one of the main qualities that made her valuable to him, and to the entire Diarchy.

No wonder she was the Element of Honesty.  It was written that Lady Applejack had her own stubborn streak a mile wide.

I never meant for you to find out in the way you did.  I was taken off guard, and I made some assumptions that were unfair to you and unworthy of me.  I owe you an apology, though no mere words of mine will ever undo what I have done to you.

Mercy Song, your friend, has also informed me that by sending Brightblade to beg you to return, I almost certainly compounded my mistake.

That was true, though a bit of a euphemism.  He still could hear Mercy’s lecture ringing in his ears, her unleashed fury as she told him of just how well Emberglow had reacted to Brightblade’s presence in Jubilation.

He flinched again.  Brightblade was… slowly becoming a liability.  In the beginning, when he’d first started keeping an eye on Hollybright’s brother, he was sure that the stories must be exaggerations.  Surely, if one twin was a genius the other must have some hidden talents, too?  And while Hollybright had seamlessly rebuffed all of his attempts to befriend and guide her, Brightblade had seemed like the perfect alternative.

But Brightblade had none of his sister’s genius, none of her creative thinking skills.  Brightblade, he’d been forced to admit, was a brute.  He was incapable of nuance, of lateral thinking, and as time passed he was letting more of his anger and his zealotry drive his every action.  Once again, Steadfast felt the gnawing, crawling sensation of a miscalculation worming about in his belly.  He never should have used Brightblade to get rid of the old Grand Master.  Or Brightblade’s own sister.

I must beg you to return.  I need you, Emberglow.  The Diarchy needs you.  Don’t let my failure damn us all.  Something is coming.  Something…

He scratched that last bit out.  He couldn’t commit that to a letter.  Not even one to Emberglow.  He didn’t even know how much he could trust the voices in the Machine.  The things inside wanted out, it was clear.  But they were just as afraid of the things they were keeping out of the Diarchy.

Steadfast shuddered.  He didn’t want to think about the Hall of the Machine right now.  But he knew he’d have to go back soon.  It had a draw.

Besides, that’s where he kept his most prized possession.

Steadfast shook his head.  He had a letter to write.  He glanced down at the page, his mind buzzing with thoughts of the voices in the Machine, of the growing problem of Brightblade, of just how much he missed his regular chats with Emberglow.

He already missed Mercy Song’s warmth, the feel of her lips on his.

Most of all he missed his Peridot.


*   *   *   *   *


Freshly showered, breakfast eaten, and a half-finished letter left alone on his writing desk, Steadfast finally abandoned his apartment for the fresh air on the way to the Starshine Memorial Building.

He struck a quick pace, heading for the main headquarters of the Knights Jubilant.  The press conference wasn’t for another two hours, but if he knew Brushed Copper, the stallion would already be nervous.

It wasn’t long, though, before the other reason for Steadfast’s quick pace showed up.  Steadfast tried not to roll his eyes as he saw Brightblade waiting for him, standing as if at attention just across the street from the door to his apartment building.  Without saying a word, Brightblade trotted up alongside him, just a few hoofsteps back.  Like his own personal shadow.

A shadow Steadfast sometimes wished he could get rid of.

“Everything is ready for your press conference, sir?” Brightblade asked.  There was a vein of disgust in his voice.  Steadfast refused to react to it.

“It’s not my press conference.  It’s Brushed Copper and the Knights Jubilant today.”

“And you could do nothing to stop it?” Brightblade whispered, whipping his head back and forth.  The street had a few ponies moving about their business, but nopony was glancing their way, or even paying any real attention to what they were saying.

“No.  Why would I?  I approve.  As you well know, Brightblade.”  They’d had this conversation before.  Almost every day.  “Why are you here?”  He flinched as soon as he said it; his foul mood from this morning was making him rude.

“Just… trying to understand, sir.”  Brightblade muttered.  “Why we have to go through this farce.”

“Because something terrible is coming,” Steadfast said.  He glanced to the north, where the Starshine Building loomed over the surrounding structures a few blocks away.  He couldn’t help but think about what was hidden beneath it.  “And we need to be focused on the things that matter.  Not on petty sins.  Or vendettas.”

This was also another topic they’d spoken of before, and Brightblade froze in his tracks.  Steadfast glanced back at him.  He was trembling with rage, his jaw clenched tight.  For perhaps the hundredth time, he wondered how hard it would be to send Brightblade away.

It wasn’t practical.  It wasn’t possible.  Brightblade had to be kept close.  All because Steadfast had been impatient.

For the upteenth time, he felt the crawling burn of his own mistakes deep in his stomach.  At the time, it had felt so necessary.  Hollybright had begun looking too closely.  The voices from the Machine had been urgent.  Insistent.  Now was the time.  Now was his chance.

Maybe so.  But now he had to deal with Brightblade.

“Do you have any more news from the Northern Empire?” Steadfast asked.  He needed to change the subject.  He saw Brightblade take a deep breath and then resume his pace.

“You know paperwork was never my strong suit.  I need to be out in the field.  Find a way to send me there, and I’ll have more for you.”

“You know the Empire won’t allow a Mystic.”

“Then lean on their embassy here!” Brightblade tossed his head angrily.  “You have leverage.  You know the ambassador helped those fugitives escape.  The Tale scion, and his foal.”

Steadfast cringed.  More crawling in his belly.  That had been another mistake.  He should have kept a much closer eye on the Tale stallion, especially since he had a connection to Emberglow.  The news that his grandfather had been the one to help Emberglow find him had come too late.

“So what would you have me do?” Steadfast mused.  He didn’t want to have this conversation.  He’d tried before to lead Brightblade in his thinking, but it was often a lost cause.  “Arrest the ambassador?”

“Of course!” Brightblade demanded obliviously.  “Those heathens have to learn that they’re here on our grace.  They can’t just come in, help fugitives escape, and not expect any consequences!”

Steadfast closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten.  “Brightblade.  Do not worry.  The heathens will see justice for their actions.  But we can’t act to that end right now.”

“Why not?”

“The latest intelligence from our Embassy puts Emberglow in the Northern Empire.  If she’s not there now, she will be soon.”  He watched as a storm of fury and bloodlust slid over Brightblade’s face.  “We need our own embassy to stay open.  We’ll need a line of open communication if there’s going to be any chance of returning the Element of Honesty to the Diarchy, where it belongs.”

He knew that was a bit of a low blow, and Brightblade reacted predictably.  The younger Knight hung his head in shame.  “I failed you again.”

“Perhaps.”  Steadfast wanted to grind it in.  Of course the incompetent fool had failed him again.  Steadfast never should have drawn Brightblade into his circle, made him one of ‘his’ ponies.  But hindsight was much clearer, and he still needed Brightblade.  “I have a new task for you, my friend.”  Something to keep him busy.

“Whatever you need.”

“I need you working with Joyful Sound, in Research.”  It would keep him out of the way, and it might lead to something.  “Weapons development.”

“You know I’m not the best at spellwork, sir.”

Steadfast lowered his voice.  “This is more than normal spellwork, Brightblade.  The fate of the nation may be at stake.”  That wasn’t an exaggeration..  The writings of wise Tirek, the Machine’s creator, hinted at what might come if the Machine ever failed.  “Joy needs an assistant, a facilitator.  Somepony who can work with her and get her what she needs.”  He stopped and turned to Brightblade, looking him in the eye.  “I need some of my best ponies looking for ways to fight against the Northern Empire’s princess.  What little we have on her suggests she might be a frightful opponent.”

Tirek’s writings on alicorns were incomplete and fragmented.  But he was clear about one thing: if the alicorns returned to Equestria, it would mean the end of the Diarchy.  And Steadfast would not allow his home to be destroyed at the hooves of some mutant monstrosity.

“We need a way to fight back, if she decides to take the field against us.  Can you accept being placed under Joy’s command, testing any weapons she creates with your combat skills?”

“Whatever I can do for you, sir.”  He seemed less enthusiastic this time.  But Steadfast knew he’d obey.

Steadfast tried not to think of the Knights he’d collected as his supporters as ‘his’.  But he still couldn’t help it.  And Brightblade was more ‘his’ than anypony else.  He was Steadfast’s most loyal ally, despite his flaws.

“Report to Joy this afternoon.  She’s set up in an auxiliary office right next to Storeroom Twelve.”  High ranking Mystics knew what Storeroom Twelve meant.  Brightblade shivered a little but nodded.  “I’ll expect good progress from the two of you.”


*   *   *   *   *


The atrium of the Jubilant headquarters was abuzz with reporters, pink-robed Knights Jubilant, and curious civilians.  The crowd parted respectfully before Steadfast as he made his way to the podium, where several Jubilants and a few civilian workers were setting up chairs, arranging a podium, and even setting out glasses and pitchers of water.  That was a little surprising; it implied there would be a question-and-answer session.  Brushed Copper had been nervous about that aspect, but it looked like he was moving forward with it anyways.  It made Steadfast proud.

Above the stage spread a large banner that read ‘Time of Renewal’.  It was Steadfast’s idea, but one he’d cleverly managed to introduce through ‘his’ ponies.  He’d never wanted everything to come from him, after all.  And the Diarchy needed a renewal of faith, a renewal of dedication, a renewal of duty and righteousness. 

He walked up on stage, and hailed a Jubilant he didn’t recognize, a mare who looked so young she should probably still be in Seminary.  “Excuse me, miss?  Could you tell me where I can find Sir Copper?”

“Sir Copper?” The girl was focused on plugging in some wires for the radio microphones.  “He’s…” she finally looked up, and her eyes widened.  She gulped.  “Sorry, s-sir!  He’s back in his office.  I heard something about relaxation routines?  I can show you if you like.”

“I know the way, young lady,” Steadfast said.  “Thank you.”

The hallways were just as packed as the atrium, though once again ponies recognized his face.  He’d been in the newspapers a few times, recently, and it was starting to show.  People knew who he was, what he was, just by looking at him.  It afforded an unexpected bit of influence, and one that he would use as much as possible.

There was so much at stake, after all.  Why not use every available resource?

He’d been to Brushed Copper’s office quite a bit, recently, as they prepared for this press conference.  He was well used to the meticulously organized space, so when he slid the door open without knocking the abject chaos inside caught him by surprise.  There were papers everywhere: on the floor, spread out on the chairs, and even a few that had somehow gotten caught on one of the light fixtures.  The dark-furred stallion himself sat facedown on the desk.  His long ponytail was falling apart, with strands of copper colored mane sticking out in all directions.  Steadfast could hear him hyperventilating.

“Copper?  Everything—?”

“Sir Steadfast!” Copper’s head shot up, sending a few more papers fluttering to the floor in his haste.  “I’m glad you came!”  His eyes were bloodshot, but his smile was genuine.

“Of course I was going to come, silly,” Steadfast carefully stepped between discarded sheets, trying not to trample Copper’s notes.

“Yeah, but you came early, sir.”  Copper quickly shot out of his chair and rushed over, wrapping Steadfast in a hug. “How’d you know I needed it?”

“You’ve been a nervous wreck for weeks, Copper,” Steadfast laughed, patting him on the back.  It was the strangest thing.  He’d known Copper since the stallion was in the Ivy Seminary, back when Steadfast taught there briefly.  He always seemed to be on the knife’s edge of crumbling under pressure, but nevertheless always performed when necessary.  It was one of the reasons Steadfast had taken Copper under his influence.  “You’re always a nervous wreck right before something big.  You never sleep before you preach a sermon, you always used to practically melt down right before a test at the Seminary, and you’ve practically exploded your office now.”

“You’re right.  I am a mess.”

“You’ll do fine.  I just stopped by to remind you of that.  We’ve prepared for this for months, Copper.”

“Yeah.  Everything’s going to change, after this.”  Copper breathed deep, his eyes hazy and distant.  Steadfast pursed his lips.

“Not everything, young stallion.”  He felt compelled to put in a reminder.  “Just because certain things won’t be in focus any longer doesn’t mean they’re not sinful.”

“I know that,” Copper’s face flushed.  His eyes met Steadfast’s.  “You and I are going to have to disagree on that, though.  I know how the Saints made me.  And they don’t make mistakes.”

Steadfast had to agree with that much, at least, even though the rest of it was probably not true.  In the end, though, it hardly mattered.  It was time for the Diarchy and the Knights to start focusing on what really mattered, not petty infractions.

“Well.”  He stepped back from his companion’s hug.  “Is there anything you need before you start?”

“Honestly?” Copper laughed.  “Just this.  A visit from an old friend.”  He took a few deep breaths.  “I’m fine.  I’ll be fine.  It’s the question-and-answer section that’s got me completely flustered, but I’ll be fine.”  He gave a nervous laugh.  “As long as I keep telling myself that, right?”

“I’ll be in the audience, Copper,” Steadfast reached out and patted him on the shoulder.  “If it starts to get too much, just find me in the crowd, and meet my eyes.  I don’t know if I can give you my confidence, but I’ll do my best.”

“Of course.  Thank you, Steadfast.”

Steadfast bid his farewells and made his way back down to the atrium, thinking.  Copper might have thought he needed Steadfast’s reassurances, but Steadfast wasn’t so sure.  He imagined even if he hadn’t shown up, Copper would have done just fine.  The Knight was on the fast track for leadership in the Jubilant, and Steadfast wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.  Today’s press conference would make him even more of a celebrity.

And if Steadfast got lucky?  Someday he might be able to claim two other Grand Masters as ponies under his influence, rather than just one.

The preparations were starting to wind down, and a few ponies were finding their seats, so Steadfast did just what he said he’d do and found a spot near the center.  For a few moments, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift as he thought some more about what he’d write in his letter to Emberglow.

If he was honest, today was as much for her as it was for his friend Brushed Copper.

“Is this seat taken?”

The voice, familiar and unwelcome, jerked him from his meditation.  He opened his eyes and forced himself into a polite smile.

“Grand Master Fairy Light.  What a pleasant surprise.  I admit, I didn’t expect you here today.”

He met the eyes of one of his oldest and most inscrutable antagonists.  Grand Master Fairy Light was just a few years older than himself, though she’d aged with grace.  Her pixie pink hair was streaked with just a few strands of grey, and it spilled artfully over powder blue fur and immaculate white robes.  She fluttered her wings just a bit as she moved to sit in the seat next to him.

“Of course I came, Steadfast.  Wouldn’t miss it.  I was told this press conference was going to change the world.”  She laughed, as if she didn’t believe it.  “Seems a little dramatic, if you ask me, but then again, the last few weeks have been full of world-changing announcements, so why not this one?”

“I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.”

“Of course you would know what’s going on,” Fairy said, not looking at him.  Inwardly he rankled.  What was her goal, here?  “From the rumors I’ve heard, you’ve been shut away with Sir Copper for weeks now sorting out whatever this is.  Makes me wonder what’s important enough for the Mystics to be involved, but not important enough for you to take your share of the credit.”

Steadfast fought the urge to sigh.  Speaking with Fairy Light was always frustrating; a mix of blunt statements tossed casually into the open, followed by subtle digs for information.  Of all the ponies he knew, the pegasus who led the Knights Radiant was the hardest to read.

“Copper simply needed some help ensuring that his coming announcement was doctrinally sound,” he said.  “Nothing for me to take credit for, really.”

“Hmm.”  Fairy Light tapped her chin thoughtfully.  “Interesting that a Knight Jubilant would go to the Grand Master of the Mystics for doctrinal questions.  Especially seeing as how that’s their purview.  And I may be wrong, but Brushed Copper is fairly highly ranked.  It’s just curious to me that he’d even need your help.  The Orders are supposed to be autonomous, after all.”

“I was just doing a favor for an old friend, is all.”

“Of course.  And you’re always such a dear about it, too.”  She reached down and patted him on the knee with one hoof.  “Oh!”  her eyes snapped open, as if surprised.  “Speaking of old friends.  Have you heard from Emberglow recently?”

Steadfast nearly choked.  He didn’t want to talk about Emberglow.  Officially, she was still missing in action.  Publicly declaring her a heretic would have problematic consequences when he did finally manage to bring her back to New Canterlot City, where she belonged.  It was why her parents were still safely living their lives instead of squirreled away in one of his black sites.

“Why do you ask?  She’s your Knight.”  Answer a question with a question.  Clumsy, but it often worked.

“No reason,” Fairy shrugged.  “I only met her the once, shortly after she was Knighted and before she got whisked away to help Delver Deep hunt pirates.”  She sighed.  “What a waste.  That stallion will be missed. He died on the same mission that Emberglow disappeared, right?”  He stayed silent.  “Tell me, Steadfast.  Did you ever find the Element of Harmony you were looking for?  Either there or along the griffon border?”

This time it took all of Steadfast’s willpower not to react to her jab.  He kept his eyes fixed on the ponies scurrying about the stage, behind the podium, taking a few short breaths to calm himself and gather his thoughts.  How in all the holy bucking Saints did she know what he was looking for?  And why would she reveal it just like that?  Did she have spies in his own organization?

Briefly he considered Mercy Song.  Could she have…

But no.  She had everything to lose from their relationship, while he had nothing.  She wouldn’t betray him to Fairy Light.  Besides, she had no idea what he’d been up to at the griffon border, or what he’d eventually found up there.  Or rather, what he hadn’t found.

Steadfast still burned with fury that a damned griffon, dead for a thousand years, had gotten one over on him.  Hey idiots.  I never had it.  That’s what the stone tablet had said, the one laid to rest on top of the dust that was all that remained of the legendary creature.

“We didn’t, actually.”  He briefly considered denial, but that would have been immature at this point.  Fairy knew more than she should, and he wouldn’t waste either of their time by pretending otherwise.  He’d just have to discover how she found out.  “Their locations still elude us.”

“Surely not all of them, though?” Fairy Light’s voice was innocent, and again Steadfast had to wonder what her angle was.  “It strains disbelief that after a thousand years, we don’t know the location of a single Element of Harmony.  It’s as if they really are ephemera, figments of myth and imagination.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?” Steadfast scoffed.

Fairy Light laughed.  “Of course I don’t.  But it makes more sense for them to be legends then for us to have not found any of them at all.  Or for us to have had them once, then lost them.”

By the Saints, how is she doing this?

Mercy didn’t know that part, that he’d been in possession of the Element of Honesty before it had been stolen by Rarity and then passed over to Emberglow.  There was at least a small part of him that was pleased at the evidence that Mercy Song wasn’t the leak in his organization.

“I can assure you, Lady Fairy Light, that the Elements are truly real.  To believe otherwise would be to suggest that the Book of the Saints is inaccurate.”

“I would never.”  Fairy Light gave out a scornful laugh.  “The very idea is ridiculous.  Why, do you know, the other day I heard the strangest rumor.  That Saint Rarity herself was a unicorn, not an earth pony.  Of course, you Mystics are probably well aware of those sorts of unlikely words.”

She was fishing for something, and he’d be damned if he could figure out what.  If it were anypony but the Grand Master of one of the other Orders, he would be arranging to have her picked up for questioning by now.  But there were protocols for arresting the head of another Order, even an order as small as the Radiants.

For the merest second, he considered the same solution he had applied with Hollybright, and with Nickelplate.  But he dismissed the idea.  There was already heat on him for that, from his own Order.  The rumors were still going strong, despite all attempts to discredit them.  Besides, he didn’t have any truly highly placed Radiants among his circle of ponies; Mercy Song was the highest, and she was only a Knight Captain.

Suddenly he realized she was staring at him, expecting some sort of response while he’d been considering.  Steadfast tried to assemble her last sentence in his mind, silently cursing himself for not paying attention.  While verbally sparring with Fairy Light, one had to stay on one’s hooves.

He should have known better.

“Lady Fairy Light, can we cut through the subterfuge?  You can just ask what you’d like to know.”

There was a merest hint of a smile on her muzzle, the tiniest upturning of amusement as he realized he’d gotten impatient, and she’d won.  At least she thought she had.

“Very well, Sir Steadfast.  I want to know where Emberglow is.  I think you know.  And I think you’ve chosen not to tell me, for some reason.”

“Are you going to share why this is so important to you?” Steadfast shot back.

“All of my Knights are important, Sir Steadfast.  There’s so few of them, after all.”

It was a non-answer, but it was all he was going to get.  It looked like the press conference was nearly ready to start, and he silently reveled in the interruption to their conversation.

A wizened earth pony mare, Lady Diamond Dot, took the podium.  She was Brushed Copper’s immediate superior, and according to the grapevine, would soon be retiring and recommending Copper for her position as the Confessor General.  One of the highest in the entire order.  She held up her robed hoof for a moment, and Steadfast noticed the gauntlet attached.  The buzz of the crowd muted to a soft hum as Dot began to cast a voice-amplification spell, centered on the podium itself.  It was a clever move; the spell would amplify the speaker’s voice beyond the podium, but wouldn’t interfere with the radio recording microphones set up at the podium itself.

“Attention, everypony.  Please settle down, the press conference is about to start.”  Despite Dot’s advanced age, her voice was still strong and commanding, and it took only a few seconds for everypony to find their seats.  She waited for the crowd to still while she watched over them all with a patient smile, much like a grandmother waiting for her unruly foals to calm down so she could tell them a story.

“Thank you all for coming today.  As you know, the Diarchy has entered into an unprecedented era of both turmoil and opportunity.”  There was a frantic scribbling noise as dozens of reporters’ quills began to write away.  “Our enemies are restless at our borders, and hostile weather threatens our northernmost towns and cities.  Meanwhile, diplomatic victories, such as the opening of an embassy in the Northern Empire and promising trade negotiations with Jubilation show the hooves of the Saints in all we do.”

Steadfast had to squint to avoid rolling his eyes.  The Northern Embassy, a victory?  He’d thought so, at first, before spending more than ten minutes talking to Ambassador Ruby Blade.  The crystal ponies weren’t dumb; they’d agreed to the embassy for the same reason he’d pushed for it.  The whole point had been a thin excuse to get a group of ponies into the Empire, to begin enacting his plans there.  He was sure Ruby Blade, or the mysterious Princess Flurry Heart who pulled his puppet strings, was thinking the same thing.

If it weren’t for the fact that one of his ponies, Turquoise, would be put in danger if he did so, Steadfast would have placed the entire Embassy under arrest for heresy ages ago.  No, that little nest of vipers would have to wait until Turquoise and her team could accomplish all he needed them to.  Then they could bring down the heathens in their mix.

Steadfast had drifted off into his own thoughts, he realized, and Diamond Dot was just wrapping up her introductory speech, stepping down from the podium as Brushed Copper walked up.  At first, when he stood, it looked like he was shaking just a bit, but as he reached the podium he locked eyes with Steadfast and his step became confident.

“Good morning.  Thank you all for coming today.  My name is Brushed Copper, and I am the director of the Knights Jubilant half of the ‘Time of Renewal’ campaign.  We called this press conference in order to advance a very radical change in how we approach doctrine, and how we view doctrine over time.



“I have been working closely with our counterparts in the Knights Mystic to understand one of the most brutal and unstudied moments in Diarchy history; a time period known as the Great Want.  For years, documents, stories, and accounts of the Great Want have been hidden from the general public.  Many Mystics of the past determined that these truths were too difficult for some of our little ponies.  But with the support and permission of Grand Master Steadfast Word of the Knights Mystic, and my own Grand Master, we believe that the time has come for ponies to learn about the struggles of their ancestors, so they can hopefully gain strength and insight into today’s problems.”

“Isn’t this interesting,” Fairy Light muttered from beside Steadfast.  He glanced over at her, trying to read her expression, but there was nothing more than an intense stare at the stage.  He burned with curiosity.  What was she thinking?

“The Great Want was a time of much difficulty, where pony kind nearly became extinct.  It was a time of famine and drought, of natural disasters and illness.  We lost much of the progress made during the time of the Saints, and the Diarchy very nearly didn’t survive.  For nearly fifteen decades we struggled and toiled, and finally overcame this great trial of our faith.

“The Great Want taught us many things.  It taught us how to come together, how to refocus our dedication to survive a greater threat.  There were ideas and laws put into place to guide the ponies through this time of disaster, ideas that may not be as relevant to our current difficulties.  As such, the Jubilants, along with the Mystics and a select team of Vigilants, have taken a hard look at some of our practices and policies, deciding which need to be strengthened and shored up, and what policies can maybe be cast aside as distracting and perhaps outdated.”

Steadfast was proud of the way Copper had worded everything.  To his right, Fairy Light had a small, smug little smile on her face; the grin of somepony who knew more than she was letting on.  So Copper’s little dance around the issue wasn’t fooling her.  He wondered how many others in the crowd were picking up on the subtext.

“Our Jubilant theologians have determined that many of the struggles we face now are a result of dwindling faith and failing dedication to the Saints.  So these changes will reflect our desire to help ponies get their lives right with the Saints, in the ways that matter most.  We wish to refocus our loyalty towards the Diarchy, to encourage ponies to give generously and honestly of their time, talents, and resources to the cause of the Saints.  Our kindness will flow out to all nations with our renewed strength, and soon our rededicated faith will fill the world with joy.

“Each member of the press today will be provided with a summary of the changes being made to law enforcement and to the Confessional process.  Certain sins, such as disloyalty, speaking ill of the Knights or Confessors, or promoting heresy, will see renewed, harsher attention, while other sins regarding personal behavior will be less of a focus.  Keep in mind that this ‘refocusing’ doesn’t mean sin will stop being sin.  It does mean, however, that the Knights and the Confessors will be approaching them differently.”

“Good for you,” Fairy Light whispered, her eyes on Copper.  She grinned as she looked at Steadfast.  “Did you know that boy came to me once, back when I taught him at the Seminary, and asked if his condition could be cured?”

Again.  Again she was teasing him with information he didn’t understand how she could possibly know.  What was her angle?

“A new shifting of our resources, though, will allow the Mystics to further purge the stains of heresy and weakness from our citizens.  It will allow Confessors and Knights Jubilant to work on improving loyalty and devotion within our communities.  It will allow all of our Knights to strengthen our borders against the threats of the dragons and the griffons.  It will give us a needed morale boost in this time of trouble.

“Now.  As I said earlier, I have provided each member of the press with a document that details specific changes being made in policy.  I can tell that many of you have questions, but most of those questions are answered in your paperwork.  Take a moment to go over your papers, and then I will be happy to answer whatever additional questions you may have.  Up here on the podium with me are Lady Diamond Dot, head of the Confessor General’s office, Sir Hexagon of the Enforcement Division of the Knights Vigilant, and Lady Mirabelle of the Knights Mystic.  They have all been instrumental in making today happen and are here to help me fill in any missing information.”

The questions began almost immediately, but Steadfast tuned them out.  He was much more interested in the mare beside him.

“I must say, it’s rather wonderful to see some inter-Order cooperation going on,” Fairy Light said.  “After years of bickering and politicking, I’m sure this is making the Saints smile.”

The compliment came with no hint of a hidden barb, so Steadfast tried not to look confused.  “That was part of the goal of today.  I thought you were above that, though.  I haven’t sat on the Council of Five for long, but you always seem to manage to keep you and yours out of petty political squabbles.”

“I can still mourn the disharmony,” Fairy Light said.  “This is a good thing you bring to the Diarchy today, Steadfast.”  This time he didn’t try to argue and pretend it wasn’t him, that it was Brushed Copper instead.  She smiled at his silence.

“Thank you.”  She sounded sincere, which left him even more confused than before.  It was time to change tactics.

“What do you really want, Lady Fairy?” Steadfast asked bluntly.  Her smile widened with victory.

“I told you before, Sir Steadfast.  I want to know where my Knight is.  Nothing more than that.”

Steadfast considered for a moment.  It may be time to throw her a bone.  “The last time one of my Mystics saw her was in Jubilation.  And she’d painted yellow stripes on the shoulder of her armor.”

“You lie!” Fairly Light suddenly hissed, fury twisting her face.  Steadfast recoiled.

“Not at all, Lady Fairy Light,” he said stiffly.  “I shouldn’t have even told you that much, but I thought perhaps it to be a professional courtesy. But now I must ask, why are you so certain that Emberglow could not have joined the heretics?”

Fairy Light stood up, breathing hard, as a mask of neutrality slid over her face until all the fury was buried in her eyes.  “I’m sure you would have dug out all my secrets by now, Sir Steadfast.  But if you must know: Emberglow will play a role in the Day of Hope.  It has been prophesied.  The Discordant will return to the fold and become the Angelic again, at the hooves of Saint Rarity and her daughters.”

“The Day of Hope is a myth.  Pure vanity,” Steadfast said bluntly.  “I don’t care what that oracle of yours told you.”

“Don’t be so faithless, Sir Steadfast,” Fairy Light sniffed, and trotted away, ignoring the reporters and more junior Knights in the audience that had to hustle out of her way.


*   *   *   *   *


The conversation with Fairy Light had killed Steadfast’s good mood.  He had informants in the Radiant, of course.  Mercy Song for one, though she was not highly placed.  There were servants as well.  And lastly, the Shrine of the Generous in Old Canterlot was usually only occupied by a couple of Radiants at a time.  If he truly wished, he could easily sneak one of his agents into that basement of theirs.  But what was the point?  The oracle only spoke to Radiants and their squires for some reason.  Mystic Grand Masters in the past had tried what he was now considering, to no effect.

The loss of his mood also heralded the loss of his appetite.  He skipped lunch, instead opting to head for the Starshine building.  Fairy Light’s last words echoed in his head.

Don’t be so faithless, Sir Steadfast.

It was a condemnation, and it pounded into him.  He wasn’t faithless, he knew that.  It had been ages since he was a literal believer, like Brightblade was, but he knew he was stronger for it.  More… steadfast.  The Knights needed some ponies like Brightblade, rocks who refused to even consider alternative beliefs.  But it needed to be led by ponies like him.  Ponies of nuance and shades of grey.  Ponies who understood that sometimes, things were complicated.  Sometimes you had to prioritize.  Sometimes, you had to make a deal with a devil.  Sometimes you had to refocus, like Copper had said in his speech.

He needed to go to the basement again.  He needed to sit at the hoof of The Machine.

It wasn’t comfortable.  It wasn’t relaxing.  It was, in fact, terrifying.  But it always served to remind him of what he was doing, and why.

The entry hall of the Starshine building was full of reporters and Knights.  Apparently the press conference today had created quite a bit of a buzz, and curious ponies were not content to just read the list Copper had provided.  Several of them noticed him approach, and dashed over, eagerly brandishing quills and notepads.

“Sir Steadfast, what do you think about the press conference Sir Copper held today?”

“Sir Steadfast, does this mean that homosexuality is being decriminalized?”

“Sir Steadfast, what about relations with other races?”

“Sir Steadfast…”

“Sir Steadfast! A moment!”

Flashbulbs were going off, filling his vision with spots.  He resisted the urge to hold a hoof in front of his eyes, and instead stood his ground for a few moments, silently waiting on them to stop jabbering their questions.  It took longer than he would have thought.

“The Knights Mystic fully support our brothers and sisters of the Knights Jubilant.  Sir Copper, Lady Diamond Dot, and Grand Master Layer Cake all have my complete confidence.  As you all know, the Knight Orders are autonomous.  None of them need to seek my permission to accomplish their duties.”  Oh, but if they did…

“In this matter, Sir Copper and his team had the support of several of my best Knights.  He kept me informed of his progress, and of his plans.  For any further questions, you’ll have to ask him.”  He was surrounded by reporters, but as he boldly stepped forward they had to part before him or be trampled.  None of them chose the latter.  He made his way to the elevator, where a Mystic in armor held back the gaggle of reporters with a baleful gaze and a tightened grip on his spear.  He saluted Steadfast as he passed.

The elevator doors slid shut, and Steadfast reached into his robes to retrieve a small key.  A hidden latch behind the panel that held the floor buttons slid aside at the touch of his hoof, revealing a single key hole.  He slipped his key inside and turned it, and the elevator rumbled to life and began sliding down.

The trip down to the Mystics’ classified vault was always intimidating.  Even years later, Steadfast felt the invisible pressure of the walls, the way the light faded almost imperceptibly as the elevator car slipped under the earth, with only the pale light of a single bulb in an iron grate above him.

The door opened, and he stepped out into the landing.  The classified archives were a place of austere functional practicality.  There were no adornments or pictures on the grey cinderblock walls.  A single guard station sat at the bottom of the elevator.  The Knight inside didn’t even have enough security clearance to go any further than his small cubicle.

“Sir Comet Flare, any news?” he asked the armored earth pony sitting inside the guard station. The guard saluted.

“Nothing to report, Grand Master, sir!”

“Who’s on the floor right now?”

“Lady Joyful Sound in her office, and Lady Paperclip in the archives, sir!”

“Thank you, Flare.” It didn’t really matter if ponies knew how often he visited the Hall of the Machine, but he didn’t like too many ponies knowing just how much time he spent down here.  He waved to the guard, and moved down the grey passageway towards the Hall. 

On the way, he glanced at the door to Joyful Sound’s temporary office.  He realized he should probably stop and apologize for dumping Brightblade on her.  But the ominous steel doors, closed and locked at the end of the hallway, beckoned him.  He’d stop in later.

Each hoofstep brought a sense of dread.  This walk wasn’t for the weak.  Most Mystics never even set hoof in this hallway, and never even laid eyes on the door. Only the highest ranked (and now, select ponies Steadfast knew he could trust) ever made it this far.  He approached the door and reached out a hoof to brush across the iron surface.

At his touch, the powerful magic permanently etched into the door flared to life.  Glowing orange runes covered the surface.  When he’d first taken the rank of High Inquisitor, Steadfast had tried to study the runes.  He didn’t even know what half of them did.  The half he did know terrified him.  The combination was the strongest form of warding and shielding magic known to ponykind.  And even so…

…the whispers were already leaking into his head.

He pressed the runes on the door that his mentor had shown him decades ago.  Press the wrong ones, or in the wrong order, and he’d be waking up a week from now in the hospital, with the brain capacity of a squirrel.  But by now it was old news for him.  Every rune he pressed turned white, until the correct sequence of ten was shining upon the door.  Then he hurriedly reached out and grasped the handle, pulling the door open.  The disengage sequence would only last a few seconds, after all.

Pulling the door open brought a rush of freezing cold air.  The Hall of the Machine was always uncomfortably cold, but recently it had started to get worse.  He regretted not dressing more warmly than just his robes, but that might have raised questions.  He slipped inside, ignoring the sinister voices already crawling their way into his ears.

…rip and tear, rend the flesh, eat the bones, crush the eyeballs between the…

…hate is the light in the darkness hate is the star at night hate is the cold warmth that fills gut…

…Steadfast Word is back he’s back free us let us loose we will rend your enemies and grind them into…

…freeze the flesh from his bones and scrape the knife against…

It was almost always nonsense.  He usually tuned it out, but sometimes there were crumbs of truth.  He didn’t trust the voices.  He never could.  But they knew something.  No matter how insane, sometimes he felt like he could almost talk to them.

The Machine filled the room with its baleful monstrosity.  Steadfast stepped out onto the balcony that overlooked the mass of steel ribbons and hoof-thick wires that spanned between the two parts of the Machine.  There was a steel orb, wide enough to fit a dozen ponies inside, or more.  The steel ribbons wrapped around it and suspended it from bolts driven into the walls.  Even a thousand years later, the black metal had never rusted, and the orb was still as shiny and reflective as it had been when the first Mystics had begun studying it.

He tried not to get close to the orb any longer.  The first time he had, he could have sworn he could see, behind his own reflection, the rage-twisted faces of screaming ponies, with clenched maws full of jagged, icicle-like fangs.

The orb floated over the other part of the Machine; a hexagonal ring of black crystal, set into the floor far below the balcony.  Six stone plinths, set at each corner of the ring, held it a few hoof lengths above the floor.  Both the ring and the orb above it shimmered with silvery blue runes.

Steadfast gave one last glance at the door behind him, making sure it was closed.  He didn’t want anypony accidentally wandering in.  Not that there were tons of ponies down here, of course.  After that, he began a slow, methodical walk down the spiral staircase that led from the balcony to the floor below.

Steadfast is here, Steadfast is here, tear out his mane and rip through his torso, so much warmth to spill and suck…

Did you kill them all, yet?  Like you killed Hollybright, and Nickelplate, and Peridot, and…

Blood on your hooves blood on the floor blood on your clothes blood in your mouth in your stomach…

The worst part was, he couldn’t ever tune them out completely.  Because sometimes they had good advice.  Like the time they’d directed him to a forgotten box, buried deep in the secret archives.  A box where he’d found two gems.  One shaped like an orange, and the other like a six-pointed star.

Come learn at our hooves, pupil, and we will rend this country together from north to south, from the eastern sea to the western shores…

You are weak and flawed, you can never survive.

They are always watching you they know they see your guilt your shame your sin your blood kill them before they can…

Each step down the staircase was agony.  The steel was so cold he could feel the pain through the keratin of his hooves.  But he was strong enough.  He could endure.  He was Steadfast.

The floor on the bottom was made of tile and did a much better job of insulating the cold.  Still, Steadfast was shivering almost uncontrollably when he stepped off the final rung of the stairs.  Ahead stood the ring itself, and at the foot of it was a small pillow, complete with a stack of books and a quill case.

As far as he knew, nopony else came down here.  He’d never seen any evidence of his little study area being tampered with by others.  But still, one couldn’t be too careful.  It helped that most everypony else who knew about the secret he’d found was dead.

He sat down on the pillow and pulled the top book off of the stack.  It was a copy, one he’d made in his own hoofwriting a decade ago.  The original was sealed away in the archives itself, too fragile to be taken into the Hall of the Machine.  But he felt like he got more insight reading Creator Tirek’s words here than in a stuffy library.  It was Tirek who built the machine, after all.  For perhaps the thousandth time, Steadfast wished he knew more about the mysterious pony who had dedicated his life to constructing the technology that kept the Diarchy safe: their rune gauntlets, the divine alchemy that created Knights, their enchanted armor.  And of course, the Machine itself.

He cracked open his book to the same section he read every time he came down here.  It was worth reminding himself.  Everything he did, every plot, every maneuver, every conversation, came down to this one goal.

The Machine is the last defense we have against the Alicorns, he read.  In his mind, he wasn’t seeing his own hoofwriting, but rather the precise, almost mechanical script of the legendary inventor.  When it fails (and someday it will fail, because nothing lasts forever) it is likely the Diarchy will fall with it.  The creatures that power it hate us, and the Alicorns will stop at nothing to tear down everything I have built.  Everything I have struggled and fought for these long years.

To whoever reads this after I am gone, be it Cozy’s successors or Adagio: nothing we can do can stop the prisoners from eventually breaking loose.  We will be under threat from outside and from within.  All we can do is prepare.  Unity is the only defense against either.

He’d memorized the words, but reading them had a way of cutting through the chill.  Tirek had foreseen the impending disaster.  But he had also seen a path through, a ray of hope.  Unity.  Faith.  Dedication.

And you will be the one to bring it.  Gather all the prey together so we may feast.

“No,” Steadfast whispered, clutching Tirek’s words close to his chest.  “We will defeat you.  And the alicorns.  And whatever else stands in the path of our destiny.”

Behind his stack of books was a small sewn sack, full of paperweights.  One of the earliest things Steadfast had learned was that when you wanted to hide something important, you hid it in plain sight.  He pulled out the sack and spilled the paperweights onto the floor.  There was a small snowglobe with a pegasus ballerina, a small pewter figurine of a sailing ship, a lacquered piece of weighted driftwood, and a lump of uncut purple crystal.  He picked up the last, staring at it, clutching it with his hooves.

He’d long ago given up trying to will the crystal to do something.  It had only reacted to his touch once, when he’d first found it.  That’s when it had changed from a six-pointed star to the lump he now held in his hooves.  It’s when he’d seen a vision of Saint Twilight, a mere flicker of an instant, but he was sure.  

It is also when, for the briefest second, he’d thought it had started to take the form of his own cutie mark, before it had melted into the lumpen form it held now.

“We’ll throw you back to whatever Tartarus you came from,” he said to the voices, to the mysterious alicorns, and to anything listening.   “Once I get the rest of the Elements at my side, nothing will stop me.  I swear it by my Knighthood, and by the Element I bear.”

In his hooves, the Element of Magic remained quiet.
> Interlude: The Litany of Injustice
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: The Litany of Injustice


            	Fairy Light was running.  Galloping.  Caution and subtlety didn’t matter any more.

No!

            	It was impossible.  It was a lie.  More filth spewing from the lips of the chief deceiver.  It had to be a lie.

It’s not true!

            	Her hooves pounded the dirt, and she ignored the stunned stares of Knights and squires alike as she ran through the grounds of Old Canterlot's palace.  The ponies might be gawking, but they didn’t matter. 

It can’t be true!  She can’t have turned!

            	The Shrine of the Generous was guarded by one Knight, a truly ancient earth pony named Taffeta Frill.  She blinked in shock when Fairy Light sprinted up, but said nothing, only bowed and reached to pull the door open for her. 

            	“Nopony knows I’m here,” Fairy muttered, and Taffeta nodded.  She would keep her silence.

            	There was nopony staying in the Shrine of the Generous that night.  The next batch of squires wasn’t due to show up for a few days, and the Radiants who would be instructing them would arrive just a day before that.  For now, Fairy Light had the place for herself.

            	But Fairy still couldn’t help a nervous glance over her shoulder as she began tracing the runes in the air, the very runes that would open the secret beneath the floors of the living room.

            	The orange glow of the enchantments embedded in the floor spilled light into the darkness, an eerie radiation that filled her with nervous dread.  Coming to visit the Oracle used to be comforting. 

            	That was, of course, before she’d started her list.

            	The first name on the list had been Peridot Shine.  It was no secret who had killed her, even though the Mystics didn’t allow anypony else to see the records they’d taken of the incident.  Still, Peridot was the first of many dead ponies to lay at his hooves.

Spruce Bark

Rusty Gyro

Champagne Flute

Hollybright

Nickelplate

            	Dozens of other names, too, a litany that she repeated to herself.  Some Fairy was certain about.  Others she had only speculation and suspicion.  But as she waited for the magic to do its work, she whispered them silently into the empty room.  When the passage finally opened up beneath her, lit by the strange orange glow, she dashed down the stairs.

            	When the puzzle pieces were all coming together, they were supposed to make things clearer, not throw everything into darkness.  Emberglow was a heretic.  It couldn’t possibly be true.  And yet, Mercy Song had confessed everything to her, when pressed.

            	Including every single one of her ‘missions’ she’d gone on at her lover’s behest.

How could this have happened?

            	With a wrenching cry, she rushed to the plinth that held the Oracle, seizing the cloth that covered the orb and ripping it off.  The unicorn horn inside glowed to life at her touch, and the blue light overwhelmed the orange in the room.

            	“Speak to me, Oracle,” Fairy rasped.  She knew well the danger it represented.  The Oracle, for all its oblique mystery, had its own agenda.  But it was the only guidance she had now, the only way to unravel Steadfast’s plots.  “Please.  Make this clear.  Why did Emberglow…”

            	She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

            	“Fairy Light.”  The horn pulsed, and Fairy Light gasped.  It had only ever spoken to her in prophesy and verse, and never by name.  “You came.”

            	“I…”

            	“I had no doubt.  You were always fearless.”

            	With each word, the horn pulsed and glowed brighter.  Fairy stepped back.  “Why are you talking to me?”

            	“Things have changed, Fairy Light.  I am the same as I have always been.  But now I am more.”

            	“What are you?”  She felt her rump hit the floor, her eyes locked on the glowing orb and the horn inside.

            	“I am nothing.  Nopony.  Ephemera and nightmares, given intelligence and purpose.  I am a tantabus.  Or I was.”

            	“Tantabus?”

            	“A monster.  Pasted together from dreams and guilt and an iron willpower stronger than death.  I was made to torment Starlight Glimmer, to always remind her of her sins and her failures, and to keep her focused on one purpose.  She traded her memories for life, until she was a cold and shriveled thing.

            	“Only, somepony interfered.  And because of his actions, Starlight’s sacrificed memories were stored, rather than destroyed.  And when she finally died, they came to me.

            	“I am not Starlight Glimmer.  But I remember what she saw.  Who she was.  And I remembered her purpose.  Finding Rarity.  And that’s what I’ve been guiding the Radiant towards, ever since you all woke me up.”

            	“That’s what the visions were?”  Fairy Light’s head was spinning.

            	“From the very beginning, yes.  And you succeeded, Fairy Light.  You were the Grand Master that led the Radiant to the Day of Hope.  Rarity lives.”  The horn pulsed with amused laughter.  “Congratulations, though I doubt it is like you imagined.”

            	Fairy Light’s jaw worked wordlessly.  She’d been meaning to ask about Emberglow.  About Fairy’s own prophecy, all those years ago as a squire herself.  But this…

            	“I dismissed the rumors,” she breathed.  “I shouldn’t have…”

            	“Your progenitor lives, Knight Radiant.  And she fights alongside the Discordant.”

            	Fairy Light rose to her hooves, bile in her throat.  “No!” Her hooves shuffled along the stone floor, backing away until her rear hoof struck the bottom of the staircase.

            	The Oracle laughed.  “She’s a unicorn, Fairy.  What did you expect?”

            	Fairy Light gulped, and sat down on the lowest stair.

            	“You knew, didn’t you?” the Oracle said.  “You’re too smart not to.  You’ve seen the pictures.  The books.  The Mystics are good, but they can’t delete everything.  You knew.”

            	“I knew,” Fairy Light said, the damning words nearly sticking in her throat.  “But it didn’t matter.  Not until today.”

            	“Looks like you have some decisions to make.”  The Oracle’s voice was cold and unforgiving.  The chill outside had nothing on this, and Fairy Light felt herself shivering.

            	The last thirty years of work; planning, plotting, backbreaking effort, hope and faith and dreams, played out before Fairy’s eyes as she panted for breath.  Her own prophecy, given by this very Oracle, replayed in her head.

            	The glow of hope lights the torch of revolution.  Flickering flames become the bonfire that rewrites history.  The phoenix flame takes wing on flames of love and loss.

            	Hundreds of Knights Radiant, each with their own unique vision.  And every single one with the same charge.  

 Six there were, now five remain. 
One rules from the shadows, the others follow blindly. 
Hope is lost, but the lost can be found. 
The Sleeper will awaken at the hooves of her children. 
The Generous will find the lost and restore Hope to Equestria.


            	“The sleeper was Rarity,” the Oracle said, as if it knew her thoughts.  It probably did.  “And Emberglow was the one that found her.  Is it any wonder she changed sides?”

            	“Because you manipulated things!” Fairy Light shrieked.  “You played us all like puppets!”

            	“Perhaps.  But now you know the truth.  And like I said before, you have some decisions to make.  This is not the same world as it was last week, Grand Master Fairy Light.  Everything is changing.  Old heroes are being reborn as new ponies.  Even you.  The world is being shaped into something else, and the Diarchy is headed towards war, no matter what any single Knight wants.  Will you bury the truth, like so many before you, Fairy Light?  Or will you join with the Discordant and…”

            	“NO!” Fairy lurched forward, her hoof frantically slashing at the Oracle and knocking the orb from it’s plinth.  It crashed to the floor, the glass shattering.  Fairy’s breath came in heavy pants.  “I will not betray my home or my ponies!  I will not be the Grand Master that leads the Radiant in heresy!”

            	“So you choose lies, then.”  The disappointment in the Oracle’s voice was palpable.  “I had thought…”

            	“No!”  She was not Steadfast Word.  “The Diarchy doesn’t need the lies.  We just need to…”

            	“Adapt?  Refocus?  Maybe under the reins of a strong leader, who can take control and reshape the Diarchy at their whim?”

            	It was uncomfortable talking to a pony without a face, without ears and eyes that Fairy Light could read and gauge for intent.  The disembodied voice of a nightmare creature emanating from a severed horn, however, offered no such feedback.  But the contempt and sarcasm in its…

            	…no, not its.  Her.  In her voice.  The contempt and sarcasm in her voice was palpable.

            	“I am not like Steadfast!” she snarled back.  “You and I… you and I have been trying to counter him!  Is this why?  So you could guide me into some sort of… heresy?”

            	“No.  Never.”  Wisps of blue light began to swirl from the horn, dancing through the air until they took shape in the air next to the plinth.  It was a featureless pony, merely an outline of smoke and magic, but she bowed her head as if ashamed.  “I’ve only had one purpose.  To save Rarity.  Anything else I've done has been for you and the Radiant.  To help you build something good within the ashes of this waking nightmare.”

            	Fairy opened her mouth to talk, but the figure continued.  “Would it make me pleased if you did lead the Radiant to join the Discordant?  Reunite the family, so to speak?  I don’t know.  I am a monster of nightmares and guilt, but even I…” the entire shape trembled.  “…even I hate the blood that is spilled.  It makes me sick.  Ponies shouldn’t kill ponies.”  The figure slumped against the floor, ignoring the broken shards of glass and the horn.  “Maybe it’s because I have all of Starlight’s memories, now.  I remember what this world was.  What it should be.”

            	“I won’t betray my brothers and sisters,” Fairy began, moving slowly closer to the prone form.  There was something pitiable about her, something that reached out to the healer in Fairy.  “But I can’t let a murderer guide the Diarchy, either.”

            	“Forge your own path, then?  Just as you were always wont to do.”  The smoky shape sighed.  “It will be the harder route, for sure.  But you bear the soul of a hero, Fairy Light.  I’ve always known.”

            	It was just like something she had said earlier, right at the beginning, when the Oracle had said Fairy Light was always fearless.  Even now, it pricked at her curiosity.  Despite herself, despite the situation, Fairy had to ask. 

            	“What do you mean?”

            	The Oracle’s head rose, and Fairy was sure she could hear amusement.  “It is sinful, isn’t it, to speculate on your past lives?  On who you may have been before you were born?”

            	“You know something.”  Perhaps it didn’t mean anything, but there was still a part of her that wanted to know.  Perhaps needed.

            	“What would you do with the information, I wonder?”  The Oracle lifted a hazy hoof to tap at her chin.  “Would it change anything?”  Fairy felt exposed, as if the Oracle could see to her very soul.  “No.  No, I don’t think it would.  It might even help inspire you.”

            	“What—”

            	“Did you know, with the spells Sunburst cast, I can see them?  The heroes of Ponyville, reborn in new forms all through the Diarchy?  Each one, in their own way, paving the way for Emberglow and Heartwing to find Rarity, to restore Harmony to the world.  Not because destiny forced them to, but because that’s who they were then, but more importantly, it’s who they are now.  

            	“Like the scholar reborn as a precocious little foal.

            	“Or a would-be conqueror with a cracked horn, reborn as the orphaned filly raised by pirates and taught by a princess.

“A faithful mailmare who always found her path eventually, now a kind mother, filling the dresses she makes with all the love she can offer.

            	“Or maybe a great and powerful illusionist, experiencing life again as an irreverent Knight and mother, as passionate as she always was.

            	“And then there’s you, Fairy Light.  I recognized you first.  The form may be different, but the soul never changed.  The crusade may be different, but you always were one to pursue your goals with a single-minded determination and courage.  Whether you’re chasing after a rainbow on broken wings, or trying to match Steadfast Word at his own game.”

            	It was all too much.  None of it made any sense to Fairy.  Who were these ponies the Oracle was talking about?

            	“I know you’re confused.  I know you feel overwhelmed, lost, and maybe even betrayed.  But I promise you, Fairy Light.  My only goal has ever been to help you bring about the Day of Hope.  Now that it’s happened, my purpose is gone.  And now… I wish to help my friends.  Or, Starlight’s friends.”

            	“Those ponies you mentioned?” Fairy’s mouth was dry.

            	“Yes.  Including you.  Old souls are becoming new again, all to shape the future.  Steadfast wants one future, a future where peace exists due to strict control.  He builds his power atop a mountain of corpses, a list of names you yourself have collected.  The Discordant perhaps wish to burn it all down and start over.  But if you wish, I will help you forge a different path.”

            	“Just like you’ve always guided me.”  Fairy Light nodded slowly.  “A different path?  Yes.  A path of justice and balance, maybe.”  Her mind began to light up with ideas, and she reached down with a hoof to help the Oracle up.  This was going to take some getting used to, but she was already steeling herself for the challenge.  “What should I call you?”
> Chapter 52
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 52


Notes on unnamed conspiracy, found in a ledger left behind by Princess Twilight in the care of Mlinzi the Dragon.

It occurs to me that there are two levels to this conspiracy, and I’ve been wasting my time looking into the members that just don’t matter.  Flim and Flam tried to warn me ages ago, and I discounted them, even though they were murdered for it.  I’ve been following up on everypony I can get my hooves on that might hold a grudge against me, or any of our friends, and I’ve been discovering a disturbing trend.

Suri Polomare, Gladmane, Lightning Dust and the other Washouts, even Wind Rider, all came to dark and mysterious ends.  Gladmane was on trial for a part in the bombing of the Manehatten School for Advanced Magic Users, though he died mysteriously in his cell.  Suri disappeared years ago, after the Whinnyapolis police began investigating her ties to anti-unicorn extremist groups.  And the Washouts all died in ‘accidents’ during various shows, all of which could have been easily contrived.

The closer I looked at all of these ponies before their deaths, the more suspicions I now have.  But I don’t think that any of them have any real hoof in what’s been happening.  There’s a puppetmaster behind all of this.  Who else could be keeping Tirek and Cozy Glow under control?  They escaped, and then not a peep from either of them.  Their silence is baffling.

Perhaps that’s the point.  Whoever it is has me chasing shadows, worrying about the little ponies while the real master is free to play.  They’re good at it, and that’s what scares me.

If Discord weren’t deteriorating alongside Fluttershy’s declining health, I’m sure he’d be able to help in a heartbeat.  Or maybe Rarity.  If Rarity were here, none of this would have happened.  She was always so much more adroit at navigating social and political waters.  I miss her.

Crystal Empire, 1113 AF

“An actual TRIAL?!” Topaz’ fury rocketed her voice through a whole octave.  She’d barely waited for the doors to the grand throne room to close behind them before she started screaming.  “You mean you weren’t kidding?  You’re really going through with it?  I thought it was just…” Topaz growled, her hooves gyrating through the air with obvious frustration.  Emberglow had never seen her this upset before.  “I don’t know.  Posturing?”

“You thought I was posturing?”  Princess Flurry Heart’s voice was low and dangerous, and Emberglow found herself stepping between Rarity and the towering alicorn.

“Yes, I did,” Topaz shot back.  “I didn’t think you could be this vengeful, Grandma.”

The princess clearly bristled at the remark, rounding on Topaz with blazing eyes.  “Vengeance?  You think this is just about vengeance?  Topaz, he killed my aunt!”

“So?” Topaz said.  Emberglow gasped, and even Rarity looked shocked.  Princess Flurry closed her eyes.  Emberglow could see her hooves shaking.

“You’re going to want to very carefully think about what you just said,” the princess whispered, her voice trembling.  “And then you’re going to want to explain yourself.”

“Or you’ll banish me again?  Or maybe you’ll put me on trial?”

“Maybe I will!” The princess slammed her hooves against the tiles of the throne room, loud enough to send a loud crack echoing off the crystal floors and walls.  “Maybe I’ll banish all of you!”

“Good plan, Grandma.  Do you always solve your problems by banishing them?”

“Don’t you dare,” Princess Flurry hissed.  “You’re a child.  Don’t you dare try to… psychoanalyze me.  You have no idea—"

“I’m not trying to psychoanalyze you, Grandma.  I’m—"

“DON’T CALL ME GRANDMA!”

“So I should call you your royal highness, instead?” Topaz spat.  “Maybe bow and curtsey?  Kiss your hooves like all the other sycophants?”  She stomped her own hoof.  “If you don’t wanna hear hard truths from me, Grandma, you’re going to need to banish me again.”

Princess Flurry Heart opened her mouth to respond, but then snapped it closed again.  With an angry sigh, she turned, her tail swishing with agitation.  “At least you waited until we were in the throne room alone, this time.”

It appeared to take the wind out of Topaz’ angry sails, as well.  She bowed her head, glancing away.  “I’m sorry about that.  Really.  I… I made a mistake, back then.”

Princess Flurry snorted.  “Topaz Glitter?  Admitting a mistake?  It really is the end of the world.”

“I’m not kidding!” Topaz protested.  “I was wrong.  Really wrong.  It took a lot of things for me to understand that.  War, fighting, violence; these things won’t save the world.  I should have listened better.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Meeting the other Elements.  Meeting Heartwing.  You were right to oppose him, and his methods,” Topaz said firmly, and Princess Flurry spun, surprise painted across her face.  “Just like you’re wrong to prosecute him now, for something that happened a thousand years ago.  Something, I remind you, he has already been punished for.  Or is seven centuries as a statue not enough for you?”

“You don’t understand,” Princess Flurry slumped down into the majestic throne.  “You’ll never understand.  He killed an alicorn.  He destroyed… an eternity.”

“Again, so?” Topaz was waving her hooves.  “I’m not trying to be rude, but… it doesn’t matter.  Really.  It was a thousand years ago.  And what matters now is… well… now.  He’s an Element of Harmony.  And we have a chance to change the entire world.  But only if you look past your own anger and hatred long enough to let us.”

“Is that how you see me?” Princess Flurry whispered.

“I know you’re upset.  You’ve held onto that for hundreds of years.”  Now Topaz was soothing, and calm.  “I can’t even begin to understand that.  But you don’t want to be the thing that’s stopping us from saving the world.”

“What if…” Emberglow had a sudden idea, and she resolved to speak it aloud before she could second guess herself. Both other mares snapped their gaze to her, and she wanted to shrivel up and slink out of the room at the glare the alicorn princess was giving her.  “What if you didn’t have to be the one to decide?”

“What.”  The princess’ eyes narrowed, and Emberglow gulped.

“You’re clearly very close to this, P-princess,” Emberglow said.  “What if you left the decision on whether or not to hold the trial to somepony else?”

The princess walked, or perhaps stalked, slowly over to where Emberglow stood.  Emberglow was used to being a little taller than most other mares, but Princess Flurry Heart towered over her.  By some miracle, she stood her ground as the royal alicorn loomed over her.

“And who are you, little pony?”  The princess’ eyes flicked contemptuously over Emberglow, taking in her armor.

“Emberglow is the Element of Honesty,” Rarity chimed in before Emberglow could even open her mouth.  “She’s the one who saved me from that cave in Manehatten.”

Emberglow could feel the princess assessing her, considering.

“Emberglow is right, Grandma.  You’re too close to this to be objective,” Topaz walked over and reached a hoof up to the Princess’ shoulder.  “Let somepony else shoulder the burden.  Please.”

Princess Flurry looked down at Topaz, and Emberglow watched as the anger drained out of her eyes, leaving only exhaustion.  They kept staring for a few moments, before the princess looked away.

“There will be a trial,” she said.  Topaz opened her mouth to protest again, but Princess Flurry lifted a hoof to forestall her.  “No, just listen.  There will be a trial.  But I’ll recuse myself.  Stay out of it.”

“Who’s going to judge, then?” Topaz asked.

“The twins,” Princess Flurry said decisively. “You know they’ll be fair.”

“Grandma…”

“This is happening, Topaz.  Whatever the results are, I’ll accept them.”

“But…”

“Topaz.  Please.  I don’t want to talk about Discord any longer.  Or Heartwing.  Whatever.  I don’t care.”  She looked over at Rarity. “I want…”

“I’d love to catch up, darling,” Rarity said.  “Talk about some old friends?  Goodness, the last time I saw you, you were still wearing diapers.  It’s amazing you even remember me.”

“You made me my first dress,” Princess Flurry said, reminiscing.  “You always told me how beautiful I looked.  You’re one of my earliest memories, Rarity.”

“I’ll… show Miss Emberglow to her room, then?” Topaz suggested.  “Let you two reconnect?”

“Sure.  Thank you, Topaz.”  The Princess paused.  “And… I’m glad you’re back.  And safe.  I… I missed you.”

“Yeah.”  Topaz shuffled her hooves uncomfortably.  “Yeah, me too.  And I’m sorry I get so worked up when we talk, Grandma.”  She took a deep breath.  “I meant what I said.  You were right, before.  I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have argued like I did.”

“No.  No, you keep arguing with me, Topaz.  And I want to catch up with you, too.  Once… once we’ve both cooled down a bit.”

“Sure.”  Topaz trotted over to Emberglow, wrapping a hoof around her.  “C’mon, Emberglow.  Let’s go find you a palace suite.”

“Have fun, darlings,” Rarity called out as they slipped out of the throne room.

Outside the doors, the guards glanced nervously at the two of them.  They were the same two guards who had eyed them just as nervously when Topaz had stormed in after Princess Flurry.  Topaz rolled her eyes.

“Don’t worry.  I didn’t get banished this time,” she smirked.

“Of course, Duchess,” the guard said.  “But, uh, my captain asked me to pass along a warning.  You know about the Diarchy embassy?  Princess Flurry Heart wants no trouble between you ponies and them, okay?”

“Do I look like a big scary Knight?” Topaz laughed.  “Besides, Terminus is going to be staying down in the dungeons with Heartwing until they let him out, and my Lofty’s getting settled into our suite with his son.  Then there’s Emberglow here, but she’s a big softie.”

Emberglow wanted to protest, but somehow it sounded like a compliment.  “Don’t worry, sirs.  We won’t cause any trouble.”

The two guards somehow seemed to take more reassurance from Emberglow’s words than they did from Topaz.  They nodded, and Topaz and Emberglow trotted off down the hallway.

On the way in, chasing after a fuming Topaz and a furious princess, Emberglow hadn’t had the time to truly appreciate the palace she was in.  It was spectacular; a monumental version of the ancient architecture she’d seen on the way in.  There had been no time to appreciate the arching crystal walls, the colorful way they filtered in the cold sunlight from the icy streets outside.  Emberglow loved it.

“You grew up here?” she asked Topaz.  Topaz shook her head.

“Not really.  Dad wanted me to grow up as normally as possible.  We never lived in the palace, even though Princess Flurry said there was always a suite for us, if we wanted.  When I grew up, she offered again, but it still didn’t feel like home.  I was always welcome to visit, though, so I did as often as I could.  Mostly just to come see the Empress.”

“You two were close?”

Topaz went silent, looking straight ahead down the crystalline corridor.  Her front hoof pawed at the carpeted floor.

“We were.  When I was younger.  I…”  She looked back at Emberglow, her eyes bright with emotion.  “I know you’re probably tired, but would you mind making a detour before we find your room?  I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“Okay,” Emberglow said.  “Where to?

“We’re going to go meet my other grandmother.  Assuming the guards don’t have some weird orders to keep me out.”

“Your other…” Emberglow stopped in her tracks.  “You mean… the Empress?”  She’d heard little more than rumors and legends from the sailors on Pearl Shimmer.  She was revered, absolutely worshiped by the creatures on board the ship, most of whom had stories about visiting her as a foal.  Emberglow was very curious.

“And if we’re lucky?  Empress Cadance will talk the Princess out of this trial nonsense.”

“Speaking of…” Emberglow had to trot to catch up.  “Who are the twins she was talking about?”

“The twins?  Oh!  Sometimes I forget how little of the Empire is known outside the shield.”  Topaz laughed.  “The changeling nation is one of those which swore fealty to Empress Cadance when things started to go bad down south.”

“Um…” Emberglow couldn’t hide the surge of curiosity.  Topaz was hinting at an entire new history for her to learn.  “If there’s time, later, do you have a library?”

“I probably still have access to the palace library.  There’s books there supposedly written by Twilight Sparkle herself, in her own horn writing.  Why?”

But once again, Emberglow had been stunned immobile.  She worked her mouth, but her brain wouldn’t supply an answer.  Books.  Written by a Saint.  Hoof written.  Or rather, horn written, as Topaz had said.  Emberglow was breathing heavily.

“Emberglow?” Topaz seemed to notice Emberglow had stopped.  “You okay?”

“I… uh… yeah…”

“Goodness, are you drooling?” Topaz giggled.  Emberglow’s eyes shot wide, and her hoof darted up to wipe at her lips.  Which were dry.  Topaz snickered.  “Reading a book written by Princess Twilight makes you that excited, huh?”  Emberglow nodded. 

“Why wouldn’t it?”  She thought about the Journal of Friendship Heartwing had given her.  “Maybe it doesn’t seem like much to you, you grew up around it.  But to hold in my hooves a piece of history like that…”

“Fine, I’ll show you the library after we meet the Empress.”


*   *   *   *   *


The guards, thankfully enough, hadn’t been given any sort of orders about not allowing Emberglow or the other Knights Discordant to enter the Empress’ room, so after ensuring she carried no weapons the guards pulled the doors open for the two mares.  Topaz had a distant look on her face as she watched them.  She looked back to see Emberglow’s regard, and smiled sadly.

“This was the duty Escher seemed to pull the most,” she whispered, and Emberglow reached out to give Topaz a quick squeeze.  “He loved being here.  He said it made him feel useful.”

The doors opened into a long hallway, and Emberglow followed Topaz down into a brightly lit room beyond.  On either side of the room were shrines; one underneath the large portrait of a white-furred unicorn stallion Emberglow didn’t recognize, and the other for Princess Twilight Sparkle herself.  The walls around the shrine and behind the raised dais in the center were festooned with dozens of foal’s crayon drawings.

For a throne room, it seemed rather small, though it held only one occupant.  Like Princess Flurry Heart, Empress Cadance was much larger than an average pony.  But unlike the princess, the Empress was skinny, almost unhealthily so, with taut skin pulled too tightly over her bones.  Her fur and mane were clean, but limp and dull, and her eyes were closed.

Wrapped around her forehooves were a pair of metal bracers, attached to a strange looking machine.  It was cylindrical and tinkled and hummed very faintly with a musical sound that reminded Emberglow of a child’s music box.

“I hope she’s not sleeping,” Topaz whispered, barely enough to even make a sound, but the Empress’ eyes shot open.  Her eyes were bright and aware, and she looked at the approaching ponies.  A broad smile split her face, and she lifted one hoof, beckoning them closer.  “Guess not.  Hi, Grandma!”

“You call them both grandma?” Emberglow whispered.  Topaz laughed and nodded.

“Topaz!  It’s wonderful to see you back.”  The Empress’ voice was hoarse and scratchy.  Emberglow flinched to think about how much pain she must be in.  “And you brought a friend.”

“Grandma, this is Lady Emberglow of the Discordant, and the bearer of the Element of Honesty,” Topaz said, a little grandly.  “She was curious about the Apparatus of Ocellus.”  Emberglow approached the raised dais the Empress laid on and bowed low. 

“Please, none of that.  It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emberglow.”

“I’m sorry, Grandma.” Topaz stepped up on the dais to embrace the frail alicorn.  “I’ve been trying to find your dreams, to stay in touch, but it was too hard at that distance.”

“You’ve been practicing, though?”

“Oh yes.” Topaz nodded proudly.  “It seems I can easily find the dreams of the other Elements of Harmony, even when they’re far away, now.”

“You all share a connection, and it will only deepen in time, I believe.”  The princess’ keen, bright eyes passed between Emberglow and Topaz.  “But I’m sure you have quite the story of your adventures for me.  Tell me everything.”

While Emberglow was mostly familiar with the story, it was still fun to sit and listen to Topaz tell it.  She sat silently, smiling gently as she watched Topaz’ face light up with joy when she spoke of Lofty, or hear the tinkling of her laughter when she talked about True. 

For her part, Empress Cadance seemed enraptured by the tale.  She even made appreciative coos and squeals of delight at Topaz’ blushing tales of stolen kisses and a romance carried out in dreams.

Of course, the story wasn’t all romance.

“Adagio Dazzle?  Tirek?  Cozy Glow?” Empress Cadance shook her head with stunned disbelief.  “Twilight always suspected a broad conspiracy, but this is insane.”

“I don’t believe the image was lying,” Topaz admitted.  The room fell silent.

“It… it makes a strange amount of sense,” Empress Cadance said.  “They beat us.  Ran roughshod around me and Twilight.  We never saw it coming. And then when Twilight passed, all I could do was circle the proverbial wagons.”

“Um, Grandma?  About that…” Topaz took a deep breath.  “It’s Flurry.  She’s… insisting on holding a trial for Heartwing.”

“I see.”  The Empress let out a long, raspy sigh.  “And you’d like me to intervene with my daughter?”

“If you can.”

Empress Cadance was quiet for several breaths.

“I can’t.  And I won’t.”

“But…”

“No, Topaz.  My daughter needs this.  She needs closure.”

“But…!”

“Listen to me, Topaz,” Empress Cadance whispered.  She was quiet, but the strength of her voice filled the room.  “You need to have faith.  My daughter is impulsive.  Sometimes even vindictive.  But I believe this will all turn out for the best.”

“Grandma, he’s an Element of Harmony.  We need him with us, not in some prison.  Or as a statue again.”

“Have faith, Topaz,” the Empress repeated.  “Now.  I’d like to talk about something else.  I’ve only heard your story, Topaz.”  Her gaze shifted to Emberglow, who eyed her back nervously.  “I would love to hear yours.”

“Grandma, you can’t just change the—”

“Please, Topaz.  Later.  I need to talk to Emberglow, now.”

“M-my story?  There’s nothing interesting about—”

“Miss Emberglow,” Empress Cadance interrupted.  “Before I was the Empress of Sitting Alone In a Room Powering a Giant Shield, I was the Princess of Love.  From the very second you walked into this room, I sensed that your love life is in distress.  Nothing would make me happier than to offer you the benefit of my expertise.”

Emberglow gaped, her eye shooting between an amused Topaz and an eager looking Empress.

“Please, Miss Emberglow.  Let me help.  It’s my special talent.”

Emberglow’s heart pounded.  She worked her mouth, which felt dry and sticky.

“Would it help if I told you anything you say to Grandma is just like anything you say to me?” Topaz offered.  “Completely confidential.”  She turned to the Empress.  “And we’re not done talking about Heartwing.  But I’ll set that aside in favor of helping Emberglow’s love life.”

“Priorities?” Emberglow said sardonically, but the eager mares watching her looked undaunted.  “Fine.  Um, well, where to start?  I’m…”  she took the plunge.  “I’m in love with Rarity.”

“Oooh!”  Empress Cadance clopped her hooves together.  “How did that happen?  Start at the beginning.  The more details I get, the better I can help.”

So Emberglow spoke.  At first, it was difficult.  She talked about meeting Heartwing in the cave, and finding Rarity.  She talked about being taken prisoner, and being rescued.  As she spoke, though, her mind went back to the image of Rarity standing firmly over her, between her and Steadfast.  She didn’t even know she was smiling until the Empress pointed it out.

“You’ve got it bad for Rarity, don’t you?” Empress Cadance asked softly.  Emberglow nodded, her face red.

She kept talking.  She told of the days they’d spent in Angel’s Rest, of Rarity’s kindness as she helped Emberglow in the early days of her faith transition.  She spoke of the trip to Port Luminescence, then later the journey from Jubilation to Nyumba Ya Joka, and how things were going so well.

And then came the dragon.  And the books.  And Rarity retreating into her studies.

“She’s not cruel to me,” Emberglow admitted.  “She’s kind, just like before.  Only… she’s distant.  Unavailable, sometimes.  Or then things will be going great, and she kisses me, except we should be taking it slow and I’m so confused!”  She stomped a hoof on the floor.  “I want to go back to the way it was before.”

“I’m not surprised she’s struggling with all of this,” Empress Cadance sounded thoughtful, and her expression was heavy.  “Can you imagine what she’s feeling?  Her whole world was upended, and just as she was starting to get her hooves under her, she finds out about Heartwing’s guilt.”

But it was Emberglow’s own guilt that rose up like a wave, washing over her.  Emberglow shrunk back, her ears pinned.  Topaz looked on with concern.

“I… I think I’ve been pushing her too hard.  To adapt,” Emberglow said.  “She worries me, when she hides away with the construct, or talks like it’s a real pony.  But… it’s not my business, is it?”

“It might be,” Empress Cadance mused.  “Rarity seems to want you in her life.  But you’ll need to approach things gently.”  She waved a hoof at Topaz, shooting her great-granddaughter an amused look.  “You’re like this one.  Sometimes, what’s right and wrong seems so clear, doesn’t it? And it can be frustrating when complicated things like emotions and feelings get in the way of your perfect insight.”

Topaz shrunk down, ashamed.  Empress Cadance smiled.

“It’s a struggle to empathize, sometimes.  I understand.  And there’s nothing at fault with your concern for Rarity.”  She turned to Topaz.  “Or yours for Heartwing and Flurry.  I’d just like you both to try and empathize a bit more. Especially you, granddaughter.”

“Yes, mom,” Topaz muttered sarcastically, but her smile took away the sting.

“I would like to hear about these issues from Rarity herself, though,” Empress Cadance mused.  “Maybe I should have a word with her.”  Emberglow’s eye widened.  “Don’t you worry, Emberglow.  I’ll come up with the perfect plan to help you.”  Her eyes were gleaming.  “You can rest safely knowing the world’s best matchmaker is on the case.”


*   *   *   *   *


“Cadance is scary,” Emberglow admitted to the giggling Topaz as the two of them retreated out of the room.  “Good scary, but…”

“Give her a break,” Topaz laughed, waving to the guards as they walked past. “She hasn’t had a chance to play matchmaker in decades, probably.  This is her special talent.”

“Do you think…” Emberglow began, then shook her head.  “Never mind.”

“No, don’t do that!” Topaz shoved her with a hoof, giggling.  “This is girl talk time.  You can ask me anything.”

“Girl talk time?”

“You never really had a lot of girl friends growing up, right?  This is the time where we talk about embarrassing stuff, like boys.  Or girls, in your case.  We should head to our suite.  I’m sure we could do a traditional girly sleepover, if you really wanted.”  She nudged Emberglow’s ribs with a hoof.  “Maybe even invite Rarity?”

“I…” It had a certain silly appeal.  “Not yet.  I’d like to check on Sunset Shimmer.  I promised Doctor Heartthrob Pulse I’d spend some time filling him in on Diarchy medical techniques, too.”

Topaz paused, turning to face Emberglow in the long hallway.  Her hoof shuffled impatiently on the carpeted floor.  “Emberglow.  You sweet, naïve, silly girl.  Has anypony ever told you that it’s okay to take some time for yourself, every so often?  To have fun?  To enjoy life, to eat too many sweets, to sleep in?”

Emberglow stared at her.  Her parents had, once.  Long ago.  She remembered the day she sold her favorite childhood fairy tale novels in order to trade up to her very first copy of Grey’s Pony Anatomy.  She remembered the look in Textile’s eyes, both sad and proud.

“I’ve always chosen this for myself, I guess,” she said.  She could tell Topaz was teasing her a little, but that didn’t stop her from answering seriously.  “I’ve had my whole life planned out.  Go to med school.  Get sponsored into the Ivy Seminary.  Then there were the oaths I swore, chastity and poverty.  And you remember me telling you about the cake.”

Topaz nodded.  “Yes, I remember the cake.”

“I suppose… it’s just who I am.”

“Okay then, my super serious friend.” Topaz wrapped a hoof around her shoulders and pulled her forward.  “You’re the Element of Honesty, sure.  Well, I’m the Element of Laughter.  And in my official capacity of officialness, I’m declaring that your entire life is currently a walking laughter disaster.  Come on.  Doctor Heartthrob can wait.  We’re going down to the kitchen to steal some sweets.”

“You’re a duchess,” Emberglow noted.  “Couldn’t you just ask?”

“That would take the fun out of it.  C’mon.  Hopefully they didn’t move the kitchen.”

Emberglow snorted with laughter as she allowed herself to be dragged away.


*   *   *   *   *


It was nice to be able to walk the halls of the Crystal Palace without rushing after a pair of furious ponies, waiting for an inevitable explosion.  The palace had the weight of history to it; every wall and every alcove had some sort of portrait or artifact.  But it didn’t feel stuffy, like a museum.  Living ponies darted about on various tasks, functionaries and servants and guards moving about on their way to some business or other.  It felt alive; alive and cheerful.  Many ponies recognized Topaz by sight, waving and smiling.  Even ponies who didn’t recognize her gave them a cheerful, if harried or rushed, greeting as they passed.  A few eyed Emberglow’s armor curiously, but nopony stopped them or challenged her presence.

“What you’re feeling right now?” Topaz whispered in her ear, smiling.  “That’s Harmony.  This is how everywhere should be.  Not just here.”

“That’s our job, right?” Emberglow said, touching her breastplate, where she could feel her Element resting underneath.  Topaz tapped the chest of her own dress, nodding with a grin.

“Right.  C’mon, kitchen’s this way.”

They rounded another corner, listening to the sounds of ponies moving about up ahead.  Emberglow expected another group of servants, or maybe even a squad of guards.

Instead it was a pony in pink Knight robes, followed by three others in the uniform of the Diarchy marines.  Topaz gasped and pulled up sharply, skidding to a stop.  Emberglow herself was frozen, like a small animal caught in a sudden light.

Turquoise.  She’d forgotten about Turquoise.  The ambassador the Diarchy had sent to the Crystal Empire.  Her mentor and friend.  And the pony who now stood in front of her.

“Emberglow?” Turquoise gasped.  She rushed forward heedlessly, crossing the distance in a heartbeat and wrapping Emberglow in a crushing hug.  “Emberglow is that you?  How?  Why?  You’re here!  How are you here?  The last I heard you were—”

Turquoise stopped, her mouth working noiselessly.  Her eyes were fixed on the shoulder of Emberglow’s armor, where the yellow stripes were painted that signified her allegiance to the Discordant.

“Hello, Lady Turquoise,” Emberglow whispered, as Turquoise’s expression melted from joy to horror before her eyes.  Turquoise jerked away, shaking, pointing a hoof accusingly at the marks.  The Diarchy soldiers were unarmed, but they moved forward threateningly, probably to defend their ambassador.

“No,” Turquoise moaned in dismay.  “No.  No!  Not you, no no no, Emberglow, not you!  NOT YOU!”  She was shaking and sobbing, tears spilling out of her eyes.  “No, you can’t!  You can’t be!  IT’S NOT TRUE!”

“Turquoise…”

“Tell me it’s a lie!” Turquoise shrieked.  “Tell me it’s not true!”

“Turquoise!” Emberglow cut through loudly.  “Turquoise, calm down.  I’m still your friend.  That hasn’t changed.  It never will.”

“B-but you’re wearing that!  Why?”

“Because we were lied to, Turquoise.  All of us Knights.  The Diarchy is built on lies.  And when I found out, I couldn’t stay.”

Turquoise began backing away, shaking with horror, eyes wet and wide.  The soldiers quickly made a ring around her, and Emberglow heard the clanking of armor as two imperial guards had finally noticed the confrontation and began sprinting down the hallway to intervene.  They immediately interposed themselves between Emberglow and Turquoise.

“Ambassador Turquoise,” one of the guards said.  “You were warned that there would be Discordant staying at the castle.  You were asked to stay away from them, and you gave your word.  Care to explain what happened?”

“She… I…” Turquoise floundered, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.  “I’m sorry, sirs.  The contact was accidental.  Neither party intended to run into one another.  And no violence resulted.”

“It’s true,” Emberglow said.  She had no desire to see her friend accused of something she didn’t do.  Even if they were on opposite sides of a divide, now.  But Turquoise glared at her, her eyes alight with fury and hurt.  “She did nothing wrong.”

“I don’t need you to speak for me, heretic,” Turquoise snapped, her voice chilly.

“Ambassador,” the guard mare who spoke earlier said diplomatically.  “Where were you on your way to?  I would be happy to escort you to your next appointment.”

“Yes, of course.  Very well handled, guardsmare.  Lead the way.  I was just on the way to a meeting with Minister Rail Spike about building materials for the new Cathedral.”

“I’ll happily escort you to his office.”

“One moment, please.  I assume words are acceptable?  Emberglow is an old friend, after all.”  The guard gave her a worried glance, but Turquoise continued.  “I wrote to your parents, when I found out, Emberglow.  When I heard you were missing.  They’re beside themselves with grief.  I wonder how they’d feel if they knew the truth?”  Emberglow felt a stab of ice in her heart as Turquoise turned to leave, led by the guard.  The three soldiers followed, making a protective ring of their own around the ambassador.

The other guard stayed behind, watching his partner lead the Diarchy ponies away.  He turned to Emberglow and Topaz.  “You will need to stay away from the ponies in the Embassy.  There’s three Knights Jubilant, and they always wear their robes, so they’ll be easy to identify.  I know the Princess mentioned something about suggesting the same requirement for your party.”

“I don’t mind,” Emberglow said.  “It really was an accident, sir.  We had no intention of running into them.”

“Good.  Now I’m going to escort you to your destination, so that nopony ‘accidentally’ runs into each other again, okay?”

“Of course,” said Topaz.  “We were just heading to the kitchens for a snack.”

“I’ll lead the way.”  He smiled.  “Not that you don’t know the way yourself, Duchess.”

They were silent for a few steps down the hallway.  Emberglow didn’t want to talk; her mind swam with the thoughts churned up by Turquoise’s cruel final words to her.  Her parents.  She’d barely thought about them, recently.  She hadn’t been worried about what they might be going through, what consequences might have come to them because of her choices.  They hadn’t been arrested, though she was sure it could have happened.  She wondered why not?  But according to Turquoise, at least, it wasn’t common knowledge that she’d switched sides.

“We can talk about it tonight, if you want,” Topaz whispered.  “A dream therapy session.  Like old times.”  Her voice was strained.

“I don’t know if I’ll even be able to sleep tonight,” Emberglow admitted.  Topaz squeezed her tight in a walking hug.  “I’m sorry.  I ruined your plan to have fun.”

“You?” Topaz stopped, once again turning to face Emberglow.  “This wasn’t your fault, Emberglow.  And don’t you dare blame yourself.  That’s always your first instinct, isn’t it?  When something goes wrong, it must have been something you did, right?”

Topaz sighed, and prodded Emberglow in the chest with one hoof, hard enough to make Emberglow step back a little.  “Look.  That mare’s feelings are valid.  It’s okay for her to mourn the loss of the relationship you had.  But it’s also a fact that you are not responsible for her grief.  Both things can be equally true at the same time.  You can’t take responsibility for everything that happens to everypony.”

She turned again and waved at the guard.  “We’re ready to head to the kitchen, now.  And you’ve ruined nothing, Emberglow.  We’re gonna get ourselves a snack, and then, if you want, we can go check on Sunset.  Or we can find something else to do.  Something fun, though.  You deserve it.”


*   *   *   *   *


It turned out that while Topaz did assure Emberglow that she hadn’t ruined the mood, neither one of them had the urge to try to ‘steal’ treats from the kitchen any longer.  The cooks were more than happy to make them something on the spot, but Topaz and Emberglow were content to raid the palace walk-in for some cupcakes.  Armed with their baked morale-boosters, Topaz offered to take Emberglow anywhere in the palace, as long as it was somewhere she could have fun.

Which is how they made their way straight to the library.

After the guard dropped them off, Emberglow first asked for anything the palace library had on medicine, but one sour look from Topaz made her change her mind.  Instead, Topaz took her to the towering fiction section.  The bookshelves were stacked at least three ponies high, with rolling wooden ladders that slid along the shelves to give access to the higher levels.

“We’ve got books here that have been banned for a thousand years down south.  Any genre you’d like.  Romance, adventure, mystery, horror.  Pick a subject, and I’ll find you a book that’s been banned in your hometown for you to enjoy.”

Emberglow wasn’t sure; she hadn’t done any recreational reading in years.  But the allure of the forbidden was strong.

“R-romance.  Um, do you know if there’s anything with… ponies like me?”

“Pegasi?” Topaz asked with a silly grin.

“N-no.  You know…”

“I can’t answer unless you say it, Emberglow.”

“Homosexual,” Emberglow forced it out.  Months later and it was still hard for her to say the words without a twinge of guilt.

“Yes, I’m sure they do have stories about lesbian ponies, Emberglow.” Topaz’s brows wiggled mischievously.  “The question is, just how erotic would you like them to be?”

Emberglow’s jaw dropped.  “P-ponies write that sort of thing?”

“Oh, you’d be amazed at what kinds of things creative writers come up with.  But you don’t have to start in the deep end right away, even if you want to.  We can find you a lovely romance story that’s totally tame and safe.  Or one that’s just…” Topaz’ voice dropped so it was low and husky, “…dripping with juicy bits.”

“Eep!” Emberglow couldn’t stop the squeak that slipped out.  “Um, something t-tame, please.  Uh…”

“Or maybe just a little steamy?” Topaz teased. Emberglow didn’t trust her voice, so she nodded.  “Don’t worry, Emberglow.  I promise I won’t corrupt you too badly.  Yet.”

In the end, they left the library with three books.  Emberglow wasn’t sure she should even be allowed to check them out, but Topaz assured her as long as they didn’t leave the palace she was probably okay.  Two of the books were ancient, written back in Rarity’s time, while the third was a more modern romance, written in the Empire.  With her new borrows in tow, Emberglow and Topaz made their way to the suite where she’d be staying while in the palace.

When she got to her rooms, Emberglow felt dizzy.  Not room.  Rooms.  There was a bedroom, a sitting room, and a private bathroom.  “It’s too much,” she said, backing away after Topaz opened the door.  She fell backwards, shaking her head as she landed on her rump.  “I can’t.”

“This is like the cake, isn’t it?” Topaz asked.  Emberglow nodded silently.

“It’s exactly like the cake,” she whimpered.  “I don’t know if I can possibly sleep in such... splendor.”

“It is pretty swanky,” Topaz admitted.  “Why don’t you come inside, at least have a look around before we find you a spot in the guards’ barracks or something.”

She was up to something, Emberglow could tell.  But Topaz’ ‘up-to-somethings’ usually ended well for Emberglow.  So she followed the mare into the room.

The sitting room was furnished with two chairs and a small couch, complete with a large fireplace that was crackling away merrily. The chairs were plush, upholstered with soft lavender covers that matched the violet crystal floors and walls of the palace.  The center of the room had a tea table, and Emberglow was sure if she asked, she could have somepony summoned from the kitchen to fill it with all manner of goodies.

Topaz walked over to one of the chairs and bounced into it, sighing with pleasure.  “Ooh, this is nice.  The ship wasn’t bad, but it’s all hard wooden stools.”  She wriggled her butt around in the chair, making Emberglow giggle, before bouncing right out again.  “Okay, let’s go check out the bedroom.”

“Is this what your rooms are like?” Emberglow asked.

“Kinda.  Our suite has two bedrooms.  And a king-sized bed.”  Topaz shot her a suggestive smirk as she opened the sliding door that led to the bedroom.

The bed wasn’t a king-size, but it was much larger than Emberglow was used to.  Rich fluffy blankets spread out over the tall mattress.  At the foot of the bed were Emberglow’s saddlebags, placed there previously by a servant.  The bedroom also had a large vanity, complete with a full-length mirror, as well as a wardrobe.

“Did you know the palace has enchanted temperature controls?” Topaz asked, pointing to a small display set into the wall, just to the right of the door.  “When I stayed over in the palace, I would always set it to be warm during the day, but cold at night.  I always loved being snuggled up in tons of blankets while the air outside them was freezing.  Makes the dash to the morning hot shower all the more exciting.  Ooh!  Even better now that I have somepony to snuggle up with.  I’ll show you how it works, if you want.  Or you can just leave it alone and it will adjust automatically to be comfortable.”

“If you’re trying to convince me that this is all somehow not too much, not too luxurious, it’s not working,” Emberglow said skeptically.  Topaz laughed.  “Seriously.  All this for… me?”

“For you, Emberglow.  You deserve it.  But let’s take a look at the bathroom.”

“I guess so.”

The bathroom reminded Emberglow of the one in Terminus and Heartwing’s house.  It was small, but with a huge bathtub that took up most of the space.  There was even a spigot for a shower high over the tub, complete with a sliding glass door to close it off if she wanted a shower instead of a bath.

“The bathroom is going to be stocked with all sorts of mane and fur care products, including make up, if you want or need them,” Topaz offered.  “Especially if, for some reason, you decide you need to dress up for somepony.  Like on a date, or something.”

Emberglow was reddening.  “I don’t know if that will happen any time soon.  Things are still a little… busy.  Chaotic.  Messy.”

“What better time to take a moment to enjoy yourself?” Topaz countered.  “Emberglow, who’s the expert on mental health, here?”

“You are,” Emberglow conceded.

“Exactly.  Look, we both know the next few weeks are going to be frustrating, especially with the trial coming up.  I think we’re going to need some luxury and relaxation in our lives, to really counteract everything else.”  She walked over to where Emberglow stood at the bathroom door and wrapped her in a hug.  “You deserve some good in your life, after everything that’s happened to you.  Will you let me, and my grandma, do at least this much?  If it really is excessive, I’m happy to find you someplace else.”

Emberglow almost said yes.  The small voice in her head, the one that filled her with guilt and shame and self-loathing stirred and writhed in her mind, but she tamped it down.  “No, this will be fine.  I hope.  I’ll let you know if that changes, though.”

“Good.  Take a moment to relax, and breathe.  Maybe change out of your armor.  You don’t have to be on guard here.  We’re safe.”

It made good sense.  Even though they’d seen Diarchy forces in the palace itself, they’d been unarmed, with little more than words to sling at her.  Topaz waited politely in the sitting room while Emberglow changed into a clean white robe of Knighthood.  She glanced longingly at the empty wardrobe; they wouldn’t be here long, but maybe, if she was indulging herself, she could get something nice to wear?  It was the one luxury she didn’t feel guilty lusting after.

Well, not too guilty.

Topaz was sitting on the love seat, flipping through one of the novels she’d borrowed from the library when Emberglow emerged from her bedroom.  “C’mon, lemme show you where Lofty and I are staying.  It’s just down the hall.  We should see if True’s torn it apart yet.”

True and Lofty, it turned out, had only torn the suite apart a little.  When Emberglow and Topaz entered, they’d removed all the cushions from their own sitting room (only a little larger than Emberglow’s, with a full sized couch) and were both squirreled away inside the ensuing pillow fort.

“Invaders!  Prepare the assault, General True!” came Lofty’s muffled voice from inside the plush battlements.

“Catapult!” came the tiny war cry, as a throw pillow launched itself over the walls of the fort to bounce softly against Topaz’ back.

“Ack!  We’re under fire, Emberglow!  Prepare the counterattack!”

Emberglow stared for a moment, taken by surprise, until a second pillow sailed through the air and impacted right on her face.

“Uh, y-yes sir!  What’s the plan, commander?” She was embarrassed and laughing, but given the foalish giggles (not entirely all from the foal, either) coming from the pillow fort, she was glad to be playing along.

The plan, apparently, was to duck behind the couch and throw pillows back at the boys hiding in their fort.  This strategy worked up until some double agent informed General True of Commander Topaz Glitter’s secret weak spot (a ticklish bit on her ribs) whereupon a daring sneak attack was launched that left the commander incapacitated, and her loyal minion Emberglow unable to defend her because she was laughing too hard.

Seeing the three of them romping around, laughing and playing, struck something in Emberglow’s heart.  She remembered what Lofty had mentioned to her back on the boat: that he thought he and Topaz could be a long-term family.  She could see it, too; in the effortless way Topaz played with True, in the look of contentment in Lofty’s eyes when he stared at her.

How could she feel both happy and somehow… empty at the same time?

“Uh, sorry about that, Emberglow,” Lofty said, finally, after everypony had calmed down and caught their breath.

“Don’t you dare.  That was adorable and fun.  Nice pillow fort, by the way.  I don’t think I’ve built one of those since before we moved to New Canterlot City.”

“Secretly I think this is the best reason to have foals.  So you can have an excuse to build pillow forts,” Lofty said, and Topaz and Emberglow both laughed in agreement.  “So, what have you ladies been up to?”

“Besides arguing with Grandma?” Topaz rolled her eyes.  “I took Emberglow to meet the Empress, and maybe get some romantic advice.  We also saw the library and raided the kitchen for cupcakes.”  Lofty’s eyes lit up, but Topaz shrugged.  “Sorry.  The cupcakes disappeared somewhere between the kitchen and the library.  I don’t know where they went.”  Her voice became serious.  “We also ran into the ambassador from the Diarchy, Lofty.  A Knight Jubilant named Turquoise.”  Lofty’s eyes shot wide, and he glanced at Emberglow, who nodded.  “Don’t worry.  Nothing happened.  But we should steer clear of them.”

“Of course.  And what about Rarity? What has she been up to?”

“Catching up with Grandma.  She’s got her own suite around here, too, so we’ll probably see her at dinner, if not sooner.”

“Okay, good.”  His face became serious.  “Because we have to talk about this trial thing.”

Topaz sighed with exasperation.  “I know.  Emberglow was at least able to convince Grandma to have somepony else preside at the trial.  So there will be an impartial judge.  Or judges, for what it’s worth.”

“Judges?” Lofty asked.

“The twin monarchs.  The leaders of the changeling people, Pharynx and Chrysalis.  They’re twins.  And don’t worry.  They have a reputation for wisdom and fairness.  I’ve met them a few times.  They’re…” she waved a hoof, searching for the words.  “Different, but they’re kind.  I just wish we didn’t have to go through this at all.”

“Me too.  But it will all turn out well in the end.  I’m sure of it.”


*   *   *   *   *


In the hours before dinner, Emberglow spent her time in pleasant company with Lofty, True, and Topaz.  She had no wish to go back to her empty suite alone.  While there, crystal pony palace staff delivered messages about the time of dinner, and also a request for a meeting from Queen Chrysalis and King Pharynx to be held tomorrow morning.  Another messenger offered to take their measurements, as Princess Flurry Heart had offered to have them all outfitted in new wardrobes.  Lofty and Topaz took them up on her generosity, and after a moment’s hesitation, Emberglow did, too.

When they left Lofty and Topaz’ suite to head towards dinner, a number of servants were hauling crates into the suite next to Emberglow’s.

“What’s all this?” Topaz asked curiously.

“Gift from the Princess, to Miss Rarity,” one of the servants replied.  “It’s bolts of material.”  Emberglow grinned.  That would make Rarity happy, and it would be nice to have her focused on something other than her magical studies for once.

“Maybe you should see if Rarity can design your new wardrobe,” Topaz suggested slyly.  Emberglow grinned at the thought.  “She’d probably jump at the chance.”

“She already tried, back in Angel’s Rest.  We had to leave before she could finish what she was working on, though.”

“This could be the perfect opportunity, then.”

As Topaz showed them into the dining room, Emberglow was expecting some vast dining hall, with a huge, long table spanning the room.  Instead it was a much more intimate affair.  The table was still much larger than the one she’d had growing up, but it still could only seat a dozen ponies or so, not the crowd she’d been expecting for some reason.

Rarity and Princess Flurry were already seated, waiting for the others to arrive.  Dinner was delicious, but Emberglow couldn’t help but keep shooting worried glances at Topaz and the Princess, who were affectionate and polite, but a little distant.  She kept waiting for them to break into an argument again.

The meal ended without incident, though, mostly because both ponies refused to mention Heartwing.  It lent an awkwardness to the whole thing that made it a bit of a relief when it was finished.

“Topaz?” Lofty began, as soon as the ponies were rising from their seats to retire to their suites for the evening.  “Could you take True and get him to bed, please?”

“Oh?” Topaz’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.  Even Emberglow wasn’t fooled.  Lofty was up to something.

“Please, Topaz.  I’ll explain later, I promise.  And maybe check on Terminus and Heartwing, once True’s in bed?”

“Don’ wanna go to bed!” True protested.  “Can I build a snowpony?”

“Oh, you like snowponies?” Topaz said.  “I’ve heard they’re really hard to build without a plan.  Let’s go back to the suite, and you can draw a picture of one so we’re ready to build it tomorrow.  I’m sure the princess here has some crayons somewhere in the palace.”

“I’ll have some sent right over,” the princess said, fighting a grin. 

“Kay,” True said, and Topaz led him out of the dining room with one last confused look back at Lofty.  He blew her a kiss and waved.

“So what is it you needed to speak to me about, Sir Lofty?” the princess asked formally.  Emberglow and Rarity looked on with interest.

“Princess Flurry, I understand that all of Topaz’ family has passed?  Besides you and the Empress, of course.”

“Unfortunately so, sir.”

“Among the nobility of New Canterlot City, it is considered a social faux pas of the highest order to enter into a romance or a liaison with another scion of a noble family without the permission of the family head.  I must offer you my apologies.”

“You know we don’t hold to the same customs, Lofty Tale,” the princess replied.

“Even so, I was raised to be proper.  I have not done so at many points in my life.  But Topaz Glitter is worth the time and effort to do things right.  So to begin, may I have both your forgiveness for courting her without your permission, as well as your blessing to continue?”

“You have it.” The princess looked bemused.

“Thank you, your Highness.”  Lofty bowed low.  “Now that that’s done…” he took a deep breath, then straightened up proudly.  “I know you haven’t known me for long, but your approval does me honor.  Now I have a question.  I would like to know if there are any customs in the Crystal Empire regarding proposals of marriage.”

Rarity let out a squeal of joy and clapped her hooves together.  Emberglow’s own face split in a wide grin, and even Princess Flurry raised an amused eyebrow.

“My, you do move quickly, young colt.  Only a few seconds after asking to court, and already asking to marry.  I’ll have to keep a close eye on you, to see that you continue to be worthy of Topaz’ affections.”  She paused.  “I would be more than happy to fill you in on some of the details, but I think I may have to introduce you to my mother.  She would be most annoyed with me if I kept something like this from her.  She will be your tutor in our wedding traditions.  But why ask while Rarity and Emberglow are here?”

“I will be asking for Rarity’s help with one of our own traditions,” Lofty said.  “When a stallion proposes to a mare down south, especially one of high birth, he will often present her with a bridal gift; a necklace, or sometimes a bracelet, that symbolizes his worthiness and virtues, his value as a husband.  It is supposed to have more than just monetary value; it’s seen as symbolic.”  He turned to Rarity.  “I was hoping you would help me design it and locate materials.”

Rarity couldn’t answer verbally, she was too busy squeaking and shaking.  She did, however, nod energetically. 

“How can I help?” Emberglow asked.

“Emberglow, I…” he sighed.  “You’re more of a sister to me than anypony in my family.”  Her eyes stung at his words, though her smile widened and she sniffed a little.  “You’re also my foal’s Goddess mother.  You’re… you’re family, Emberglow, and I want you involved at every step, including as Best Mare, if she says yes.”

“Of course.  I’ll help however I can.”

 
> Chapter 53
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 53


Excerpt from a magical journal, with entries written by Sir Terminus Flash of the Knights Discordant and Colibri, of Angel’s Rest

Butterfly, I’m scared.

I spent the first night in the Crystal Empire’s dungeon.  I was actually surprised at how different it was from my expectation.  There are no bars, no cold floor, no torture chambers or shock treatments.  The cell is secured not by bars, but by a pane of enchanted glass, complete with holes for air and sound to pass.

 Heartwing is well-fed, his bedding is comfortable and he has access to a desk and writing materials if he wants to write letters.  He’s… comfortable.

It’s unconventional, but the guards have set up a bed and a desk for me, as well.  There’s not really a guest room in the dungeons, but I refuse to leave his side.  

He’s so resigned to his fate.  It’s infuriating.  I’m half-convinced that if I leave him alone he’ll do something else stupid.

The guards treat me just fine.  And they don’t abuse Heartwing.  But there’s a look in their eyes, a contempt.  As if he’s lower than dirt.  When the Crystal princess, Flurry Heart, listed his crimes, I was sure that if she wanted to, she could blast him away on the spot.  I was barely managing to remain standing as I demanded to stay close to him.

I’m scared, because I think I saw Heartwing’s doom in her eyes.  The way the Crystal Empire’s citizens talk about her, I’d expect her to shit rainbows and walk on water.  But there’s hate in her, too.  And I can’t say it’s entirely unearned.

The responsible part of me wonders what this means for the world if she decides to lock him up.  Or worse.  The petty part of me doesn’t care in the slightest.  The world can burn, as long as he’s safe.

Oh Saints, how can I live with myself when I think things like that?

 




TERMIE STOP BEATING YOURSELF UP ABOUT STUPID STUFF

You know everypony thinks dark things every once and a while.  You know that.  You know how often I thought about taking the Coward’s Gate, back at the camp?

Every day.  Every.  Bucking.  Day.  Good thing I had a Terminus around to keep me from doing something terrible.  Now I have a whole support circle.

I know you’ll be Heartwing’s support circle.  Don’t let that cute face and strong exterior fool you; he needs your help as much as he always has.  Now more than ever!

In Angel’s Rest news, Mom and Dad weren’t nearly as mad as I thought they’d be that I delayed the wedding.  They weren’t mad at all; they understood completely.

I can’t say much more, because Cobalt’s keeping a tight lid on info, but we’re marching soon.  Wish me luck.

Love,

Colibri

Crystal Empire, 1113 AF

Rarity woke with an upset stomach and a groggy haze enveloping her thoughts.  Certainly the suite that dear Flurry Heart had provided her with was gorgeous, and comfortable as she could have hoped for.  But fabulous though the suite was, the walls weren’t quite thick enough to stop the sounds each time Emberglow’s screams startled her awake.  Every time she went next door to check, a sweating, exhausted looking Emberglow was there, often still catching her breath from a sudden awakening.

The nightmares were back.  Rarity thought it might have something to do with the Diarchy ambassador, whom Emberglow absolutely did not wish to speak about.  She hoped that Topaz was helping, but wished she could do something herself.  There was a part of her, slowly becoming more and more insistent, that made her want to offer to guard the poor mare through the night herself.  Would it be so bad to be cuddled up, warm against the cool chill of the northern air, her hooves wrapped around…

Rarity snapped her eyes open before her fantasy became too heated.  She could see sunlight out the window of her bedroom, glinting off the crystalline roofs of the Empire.  The suite’s giant bathtub called to her, but she was determined to check on Emberglow first.

Rarity slipped through her own sitting room, past the desk with a sewing machine that the palace servants had been kind enough to set up for her.  She quietly moved next door, easing the door open to peek carefully inside.

Emberglow wasn’t in her bed, she was curled up on the sitting room love seat, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.  There was a book open on the floor; fallen from limp hooves.  Rarity could guess what happened; the poor dear had been too afraid to fall asleep, so she’d read until she passed out.  Rarity clicked her tongue and was about to step into the room, when she had a sudden flash of inspiration.

She lit her horn, casting one of the new spells she’d learned in her studies.  A wave of magic flowed over her like a warm puff of air, and the sounds of the castle around her faded.  Her own hoofsteps made no sounds as she crept in.  Now she wouldn’t wake the poor mare, assuming she had found a measure of peace in sleep. 

First she closed the book, taking a moment to glance at its title.  The Secrets of Her Love, by Compelling Quill.  Rarity recognized the novel; Quill was a prolific romance writer from her time.  She wrote purely pulp romance, usually lesbians.  Rarity was just a little shocked; the author’s works weren’t too risqué, but certainly a bit more… heated than she expected Emberglow to be reading.

She set the book on the table and leaned over.  Emberglow’s face was peaceful in sleep; there was no sign of the troubled night she’d had.  Rarity carefully rearranged the blanket using her magic.  It was still early; let the darling sleep in as long as possible.

With that, she snuck out of the room, closing the door behind her.  Rarity’s spell muffled even the click of the latch.

Rarity was going to head back to her own room, now free to take advantage of the absolutely magnificent bath tub, before she noticed a liveried servant standing in the hallway.

“Good morning, ma’am,” they said.  “Would you like anything for breakfast?”

“Something energizing, I should think.  Some tea for me, and I believe my friend will be needing some coffee.  Perhaps fresh fruit, and a light pastry or two?  Have it brought to my room, and let Miss Emberglow know she’s invited to breakfast with me when she wakes up.”

“Of course.  I’ll have it brought to your room in, say, thirty minutes?”

“That would be wonderful, darling.”  Rarity beamed at the servant, who nodded and walked off down the hallway.  She stepped back into her room.

For a moment, she eyed the tiny Twilight construct.  She’d taken it out of her bags last night, but the presence of the sewing machine, and a fresh stack of sketchbooks courtesy of Princess Flurry Heart, had called louder.

“Hmm, duty or pleasure?” Rarity mused.  In the end, pleasure won out.  Most of her day would be spent on duty, she was sure.  There was a coming meeting with the royal twins of the Changeling Hive, in just an hour and a half, if she remembered correctly.  And who knew what the rest of it would hold?  More preparation for Heartwing’s trial, she was sure.

The thought sent an unpleasant buzz roiling in her stomach, but Rarity shook it off and seized one of the notebooks in her magic.  It was time to create, not worry about what might be coming.

Only, when she placed a quill to the blank paper, nothing would come.  Two faces swam in her mind: Twilight Sparkle, her eyes kind and wise, and Heartwing, with his characteristically puckish smirk.  She even tried sketching a basic pony form; the beginnings of any of her fashion drawings, but it seemed to stare back at her, blank, formless, and useless.  So she tore the page away and tossed it aside, and began sketching something else.

Rarity decided for a bust, starting with the shape of the head, the feminine jaw, lips set in a cheerful, open smile.  She then moved on to the horn, followed by her eyes, always open and bright and curious.  Her ears came next, then the mane, still the same after years spent in company.  She’d never really changed it, even after ascending.  It suited her, even though Rarity had occasionally teased her about mixing things up every once in a while.

After a few minutes, a sketch of Princess Twilight Sparkle stared back at her, cheerful, friendly, open.  Rarity’s eyes stung for a moment.

“I miss you, darling.  The world does.  It was cruel of fate that you were taken from us too soon.”

She touched the page with her hoof.  The smooth paper was featureless and flat.  Empty.  With a sigh, Rarity flipped the paper over, pencil posed for another sketch.  Perhaps something else would inspire her this morning.

There was a knock on the door.  “Come in!” Rarity sang out, and the door opened.  Emberglow poked her head in, her mane unbound and mussed.  “Oh, good morning, darling.  Come in, I’ve ordered breakfast for the both of us.  I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not,” Emberglow said softly, stepping tentatively into the room.  She glanced around at the stack of crates and the sewing machine.  “Wow.  You’re really making yourself at home, here.”

“Of course, darling.  I insist on making the best of wherever I roam.  But come in and have a seat.  I’m sure you had a difficult night.”

“Not too bad,” Emberglow said, and Rarity pursed her lips, saying nothing.  It seemed that Emberglow had taken after her Element’s predecessor when it came to prevarication.  “A few bad dreams.”

“I see.” Rarity hoped her disapproving eyebrows appropriately conveyed her concern.  Emberglow sat down on one of the chairs across from the table and shot the Twilight statue on the table an annoyed look.  Rarity wasn’t sure she was supposed to have seen that; Emberglow never really spoke about why exactly she was so jealous of Twilight, sometimes.  “Did Topaz help you with them?”

“She did, at the end,” Emberglow said.  “Thanks for coming to check on me, though.”

“It was no problem, darling,” Rarity said.  For a moment, she considered her thoughts from earlier.  Would it be so bad to invite her to share a bed?  Even if it was nothing more than that?  At least Emberglow would have that much comfort.  But something held her back.

A second knock on the door heralded the arrival of breakfast, brought on a rolling cart attended by the same servant and complete with two steaming mugs.  As the scent of coffee flowed into the room, Emberglow stared at the cart with obvious thirst in her eyes, enough that Rarity had to stifle a little giggle.

The rest of the tray held a large bowl of berries and a stack of thin crepes, as well as a little bowl of whipped cream and a pair of empty plates.  The servant gracefully picked up the tray, setting it on the table next to the construct.  Rarity quickly moved Twilight out of the way, and, after a moment of consideration, out of sight entirely.  It wouldn’t hurt to make Emberglow just a little more comfortable.

“Your breakfast, ma’ams.  You asked for a light pastry of some kind.  I do hope crepes fit your requirements.”

“They smell absolutely divine, thank you,” Rarity said, and they smiled before stepping back.

“I will be in the hallway should you require anything else.”

Emberglow murmured her own gratitude, already sipping at her coffee with a rapturous look on her face.  This time Rarity didn’t even bother to hold her giggle back, earning an odd look from Emberglow.

As soon as the servant was gone, Rarity picked up one of the empty plates, levitating a crepe with her magic and dishing several of the berries on top, before topping it off with a dash of whipped cream.  Emberglow stared at the food for a moment, an odd sort of guilty look flashing over her face.  It only lasted a second, but long enough for Rarity to notice.

“Do tell me what’s the matter, darling,” Rarity said softly.  She was used to this sort of look from the poor mare.  It seemed that everything Emberglow did seemed to come back to the lingering guilt she felt at the oddest of times.  Emberglow winced. 

“Just… I was wondering what Terminus and Heartwing are having for breakfast, is all.”

Oh.  She most certainly did not wish to speak about Heartwing right now.  But sometimes a pony had to make sacrifices for a friend.  “I’m sure they’re not being treated poorly, darling.  Flurry Heart is not a monster.”

“I know.” Emberglow sighed.  “It just seems wrong to be indulging, when they might be going without.”

“If it helps, you can always ask,” Rarity said.  “We can stop by today and speak with them.”

Emberglow’s good eye met Rarity’s, and Emberglow smiled.  “Thanks.  I know it’s difficult for you.  I’ll probably check on them after our meeting with the changeling leaders, unless they’re also present there.”  Finally Emberglow began dishing up her own crepe.  “S-so.  I saw the sketchbook.  Were you designing something?”  Her voice was full of hope.

“Not exactly,” Rarity admitted.  “I tried, but the inspiration just wasn’t flowing this morning.  Here.”  She floated the sketchpad over to Emberglow, showing her the image.  Belatedly she thought about Emberglow’s jealous reactions to the Twilight statue, and worried she might react similarly to the sketch.  But instead, Emberglow’s eyes filled with awe.

“Rarity, you’re an incredible artist, you know?”  She reached out and took the sketchpad, staring at the drawing.  “It’s Princess Twilight, isn’t it?  It’s like… I can feel how much you miss her, by the love you put into the drawing.”

Rarity blinked the sudden tears from her eyes, though she smiled.  “Thank you, darling.  And yes, I do miss her deeply.”

Emberglow stared at the drawing a few more silent moments, before setting it aside.  “It’s beautiful.  You have a real gift.”

“Nonsense, darling,” Rarity blushed.  “Being able to sketch ponies is just a side skill I had to learn because of my fashion business.”

“No, you pour yourself into everything you do,” Emberglow insisted.  “Nothing is a half-measure.  You’re passionate.  It’s…” Emberglow’s face colored too.  “It’s nice to see.”

Rarity was still a little surprised at Emberglow’s reaction.  She wondered what the difference was.  But Emberglow’s face gave nothing away, so Rarity put it out of her mind.

“I wonder what meeting the changelings is going to be like,” Emberglow said.  “Have you heard anything about their leaders?  King Pharynx and Queen… Chrysalis, I think?”

Rarity shuddered.  “I do need to find out the history behind that one.  Why the changelings would choose to name one of their queens after that… creature is beyond me.”

It led to another recounting, which was always comfortable territory for the two of them.  Emberglow clearly enjoyed sitting and listening to Rarity tell stories about the past, watching and listening to her with rapt attention.  Rarity, for her part, didn’t mind being the center of said attention.

In the end, both of them sighed with disappointment when a knock on their door interrupted story time.  The crepes were long gone, as was the morning coffee and tea, but Rarity wished they could just continue, and hide away from the upcoming terrible business.

“Pardon the interruption, ladies,” the palace staff pony began politely.  “It is nearly time for your meeting with the King and Queen.  You have thirty minutes.”

“I really should get ready,” Emberglow said mournfully.

Rarity stood.  “Me as well, darling.  It was a lovely time, though.”  She paused, considering.  “I’d recommend your official robes, but not your armor.  You’ll wish to appear serious, but not threatening.”

“Of course.  Thank you!”

Thirty minutes was not even barely enough time for a proper bath, but Rarity didn’t regret the long breakfast in the slightest.  She had to rush a bit, unable to fully enjoy the wonderful soak and the veritable mountain of spa products under the sink, but in the end she felt clean and fabulous.

For a moment, she considered the au naturale look; several ponies moved about the castle unclad, as they did back during her time.  But ultimately she rejected it, selecting a formal looking cream blouse and a dark navy skirt from her luggage.  She hoped it was businesslike enough to impress the King and Queen.

A lump of discomfort settled in her throat at the thought.  She’d spent so much time avoiding thinking about the upcoming trial, after all.  What was her role going to be?  What did she even want its outcome to be?  She knew she should set aside what Heartwing had done, for the sake of the greater good.  But…

But weren’t her feelings valid, too?  Didn’t she have a right to miss Twilight?  To see justice done for her death? Would Twilight herself have forgiven him?

Suddenly the crepes weren’t settling exactly right in her stomach.


*   *   *   *   *


When Rarity emerged from her suite, Emberglow and Lofty were already waiting, both in their robes.  Topaz was there as well, wearing a delightful dress consisting of a comfortable but warm-looking blue-dyed wool.  Emberglow and Lofty were deep in conversation.

“I didn’t expect things to move this quickly, but it makes sense.  The Princess has already arranged for tutors.  I spent some time yesterday speaking with them; the curriculum looks like a lot of fun.  He’s off learning about the geothermal energy deposits underneath the palace as we speak.”

Oh, he was probably talking about his son.  It was certainly kind of the Princess to arrange for True’s education.

“Oh, hey, Rarity.” Topaz waved.  “C’mon, I’ll show you to the room.  The changeling leaders will be using the Sunrise Hall for the trial, so they’re having us all meet there to talk about things.”

“The Sunrise Hall?”

“Princess Flurry keeps two audience halls available, in case any of the other sworn leaders need to use one.  Of course, each has their own center of government; the changelings have a hive carved into the glacier, about three miles to the north. The Yaks, of course, have Yakyakistan much further, and the Diamond Dog warren is underground.  But sometimes they visit Princess Flurry, and they need a place to hold court.  So we have either the Sunrise Hall or the Midnight Glow Hall.  Any guesses who they’re a tribute to?”

It wasn’t long before a half dozen guards arrived to escort them.  Only it wasn’t palace guards in their lavender armor; it was changelings, each one with a brightly colored carapace.  They wore no armor, but carried long, two-pronged spears. 

“Good day, ponies.  I am Lieutenant Mandible.  I have been tasked by my King and Queen to see to your safety this morning.”  His voice had the odd sort of buzz that Rarity remembered from the brief time she’d known Thorax and his other reformed changelings.  Before she went to sleep.

The lieutenant guided them through the halls to a large, double-doored room.  The doors were wood, with a carved inlay shaped like the sun; a perfect, if giant, representation of Princess Celestia’s cutie mark.  Two lavender-armored guards stood at its sides, and they nodded politely to the changeling squad as they approached, pulling the doors open to reveal an audience hall inside.  It was smaller than the palace’s throne room, but somehow appeared roomier; the ceiling was glass, and one could look up to see the grey skies above.  Light filtered into the room, and the sun warmed Rarity’s fur as it beamed down from the skylight to the white carpeted floor below.

At the head of the room were two thrones, made, from what Rarity could tell, out of some sort of amber colored resin.  Sitting there were two changelings.  The first, a mare, reminded Rarity very much of Thorax.  She was tall and lithe, with bright sky blue and mint green colored segments of her carapace.  A majestic rack of horns extended from her forehead, and her pink eyes were bright and cheerful.

To her right was another, just as bright, though much smaller.  Something was wrong with the changeling stallion’s hooves; they appeared only partially formed, twisting a little in odd ways.  His colors were darker variants of his sister’s, with forest green and deep navy blue segments.  His eyes were the exact same shade of pink.

“Greetings, Duchess Topaz Glitter,” the changeling male began.  “Greetings, Sir Lofty Tale.  Greetings, Lady Emberglow.  Greetings, Rarity, hero of Equestria.  Be welcome, and be at ease.”  He blinked.  “Is Sir Terminus Flash not coming?”

“We were informed he was sleeping in the prison, next to his lover,” Lieutenant Mandible said.  “I sent two of my guards to escort him here as well.  He should be arriving soon.”

“Very well.  We should…”

The doors opened again, and Terminus entered.  His stress and worry were evident on his face, with sleepless bags under his eyes.  He had a smile for them when he entered, though.

“Sorry we’re late,” one of the changelings escorting him said.  “We encountered a representative of the Diarchy embassy.  One of the soldiers.  He had some inquiries regarding your business today, and delayed us.”

“What sort of inquiries?” the King asked.  The guard shrugged.

“He was being vague.  We informed him that it was, in fact, not his business but yours, Your Majesty.”

“Well done, guard.”  He turned his attention back on the ponies.  “As I was saying.  I am King Pharynx the Third.  This is my sister, Queen Chrysalis the Fifth.  We have been asked, by our liege lady’s daughter, to provide objective and fair judgment for the sentencing of the criminal Heartwing.  As you are all witnesses in the case, we wished to meet and go over the procedure with you all, as many of you are not from our Empire and do not understand our legal code.”

“But first, brother,” Queen Chrysalis’ own light voice hummed.  “We should see to the comfort of our guests.”

“Of course,” the King said sheepishly.  “Guards, pillows for our guests.  And refreshments, if they wish.”

It only took a moment for the guards to return with seating pillows.  Rarity and the others arrayed themselves below the thrones on the floor of the audience hall. 

“As you know,” King Pharynx began.  “The criminal—"

“His name is Heartwing,” Terminus interrupted.  He looked apologetic, but his jaw was set as he stared at the king.  “I’m sorry for the interruption.  But he has a name.”

“Of course.  No offense—”

“—was intended,” Queen Chrysalis finished for him.  “Heartwing, as he is now called, has pled guilty to his crimes.  So what we are holding will not truly be a trial to determine the truth, but rather—”

“—a sentencing.”

“That’s it?” Terminus protested.  Rarity could tell he was struggling to keep a lid on his anger.  “No inquiry?  No investigation to see if he was even responsible for the things he did?  Or even knew he was doing them?”

“The facts are not in question,” King Pharynx said.  “Heartwing has stipulated to his guilt.  But you are correct.  What is in question is his…” the king waved a forehoof in the air, as if searching for a word.

“—level of culpability,” Queen Chrysalis continued.  King Pharynx nodded, grinning.  Rarity stared.  Did they always finish each other’s sentences?  “That is why you all are here.  Habeus?”

Another changeling buzzed through the air, landing next to the King and Queen and giving a low bow.  “Greetings.  I am Habeus, and my lieges have selected me to represent Heartwing and his interests during this hearing.  I will be speaking with him when we’re done, but I needed to be here first.  I’m going to be interviewing you all individually, to determine the best way to proceed with Sir Heartwing’s defense.”

“I don’t know how things are done down south,” King Pharynx said kindly, while his sister hissed in disgust.  “But here, a prisoner is always entitled to the representation of a trained and competent legal defense.  You can be confident that Habeus knows what he’s doing.  There will also be a second barrister, arguing for Princess Flurry Heart.”

“Now, the trial will take place here.  The proceedings will be open to the public,” Queen Chrysalis explained.  “While you are not required to be here if you are not testifying, you are still welcome.  However,” she pointed a hoof sternly at them all.  “We will accept no interruptions to the hearing.  No dramatics, no silliness, and no violence.”  She took a deep breath, and was about to continue.

“We have been informed,” King Pharynx said, “that the Diarchy representatives, their ambassador and her diplomatic team, have chosen to attend.  They have even asked to testify in the sentencing.  By our laws, they are allowed to do so.”

“What could they possibly have to say that’s relevant?” Topaz demanded.  The king shook his head and shrugged.

“I have no idea.  But we will assess the relevance of their words and decide for ourselves.  We will not allow frivolous or time-wasting testimony.”

“That does mean,” Queen Chrysalis continued, “that you all will have to do your part to keep the peace.  I expect no aggression from you Knights, do you understand?”  Each one of them nodded.  “If you are attacked, I expect you to defend yourselves with restraint.”

From there, it was just a discussion of the trial schedule.  Habeus told them he would be calling each one of them as witnesses, though he didn’t know how long they would be needed to speak, or how long the prosecution would take.  Each day of trial would take place in the afternoon, just after lunch, and last until before dinnertime, with the morning set aside for each barrister to prepare their arguments for the day.  He then began taking each pony aside to speak with them privately, leaving the others to continue a more casual conversation with the changeling monarchs.

“I’m sorry if this question seems impertinent,” Rarity began, after Habeus had led Lofty away into a small conference room off from the audience chamber for the first of the private conversations.  “But you do seem to know a little of my history.  I couldn’t help but wonder about your name, Queen Chrysalis.”

The queen grinned with amusement.  “That is a bit of a story.  In exchange, I should very much like to hear tales of Good Queen Ocellus the First.  I have heard you were a teacher of hers?”

“Oh, indeed!” Rarity smiled.  “Ocellus was such a delightful student.  So full of energy, so eager to learn!  I would be delighted to exchange tales!”

“Our ancestor, Ocellus’ grandson Clypeus, did not get along with the Princess.  They argued about everything.  Like oil and water, according to what Princess Flurry has told us.  I’m told he even regularly insulted the Empress, though he never felt the need to break our allegiance to her or the Empire.

“By then, we had already begun to adopt a pattern of naming our leaders after great changelings of the past.  Clypeus’ father was Thorax the Second, after all.  So Clypeus, in an effort to tweak Princess Flurry’s and the Empress’ noses, named his daughter and heir after the Empress’ greatest nemesis, Queen Chrysalis the First.”

“The joke was on him, though,” King Pharynx continued.  “Chrysalis the Second turned out to be dear, close friends with Princess Flurry. She commissioned a statue, even.  It’s in the Imperial Museum of Art.”

“So I am named for Chrysalis the Second.” Queen Chrysalis said with a smile.  “Not the tyrant you were familiar with in your time.”

“Oh, lovely,” Rarity said.  “I must admit I was a little concerned.” She made good on her own promise, sharing several amusing stories about her brief time with Ocellus at the School of Friendship.  The others listened with interest while one after another, Habeus called each of them aside for a private interview.

Finally it was Rarity’s turn.  “This way, please.” The changeling barrister guided her to the conference room.

Inside was a long table covered with documents.  Several padded chairs encircled the table.  Habeus politely pulled a chair out for Rarity, before taking a seat across from her.  He pulled out a blank sheet of paper, and his jagged horn ignited to summon a pencil as he scrawled out some quick notes.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Rarity,” Habeus said, looking up from his paper.  “Do you mind if I take notes?”

“I don’t see why I should,” Rarity said.  He nodded and scribbled something down.  Rarity resisted the urge to lean over the table to read over his shoulder.

“Very well.  Now.  Though I have been employed by my King and Queen, you should be aware that it is my ethical duty to represent Heartwing’s best interests in all of this.  I wish I could have been there in the beginning, to prevent his unfortunate concession of guilt, but it’s spilled milk at this point.”  Habeus sighed.  “You should also know that anything said here is confidential.  I will take notes, but they will be only for my own personal memory aid, and will not be revealed to anypony else.”

“I see,” Rarity was a little confused.  “I don’t have anything to hide, though.”

“Of course.  So let us begin.  During the trial, my strategy will be to show that the pony Heartwing is very much a different entity than the draconequus Discord, and therefore should not be held responsible for any acts he committed in a previous life.”

“‘Not be held responsible?’” she echoed. Rarity felt a blaze of anger in her chest, and she gripped the side of the conference table with her hooves.  “I’m not sure that’s justice, is it?”

“What do you mean?” Habeus leaned forward, gazing at her intensely.  “Do you believe Heartwing should be jailed for what he did?  Or perhaps turned back to stone?  Petrification has not been used as a punishment in centuries, but it is still on the books.”

“I… I don’t know,” Rarity stammered.  In her mind was an image of Twilight Sparkle, haggard, harried, exhausted, surrounded by all six floating Elements of Harmony.  Beneath her was a screaming, cackling mad thing.  She knew she was being irrational, letting her imagination get the better of her.  She had no idea what it had looked like when Twilight had been forced to give her own life to stop Discord.  But the image was tenacious; it stuck in her head, replaying over and over.

“I’m sorry.  I had assumed that all of you wanted your friend to be free.  I take it that your feelings are a little more complicated?”  Habeus scribbled several more notes.  “So, there is a chance that the prosecuting barrister will call on you to testify for Princess Flurry, in favor of some sort of punishment for Heartwing.”

They hadn’t talked about it while they’d been together, but Rarity thought that Princess Flurry, at least, believed Rarity was on her side in this.  They had spent plenty of time reminiscing about Twilight and the others, after all.  “It’s possible, I guess.”

Habeus sighed, raising a hoof to massage his temple.  “Very well.  Now, Miss Rarity, I am not a therapist.  It’s outside of my professional training to offer to help you sort out your feelings on this subject.  And I have a bias, as well.  I’m acting in the interest of Heartwing, after all, so I would advocate for you to forgive him and aid in his defense.”

“I can’t!” Rarity gasped.  “How could I possibly betray my friend like that?”

“So you believe he should be punished?”

“No!” Rarity shot back.  “I mean, I don’t know?”

“Do you believe Heartwing to be the same creature as Discord?”

“No,” Rarity said. That was for certain.

“How different are they?”

That was a question she could answer. “Heartwing is more serious.  More introspective.  He has less power, so he doesn’t engage in foalish visual pranks as often.  He still has a puckish streak, and can rather grate on anypony’s nerves after only a few minutes in his presence.

“There’s a kindness in him that wasn’t really there before.  But at the same time, every so often I see a faraway look in his eyes.  A heavy look, like he’s weighed down and tired.”  Now she was sure she was just letting her thoughts run away with her.  Habeus was hurriedly scribbling down notes.

“Thank you, Rarity.  Now, let’s talk about his actions as you have observed them, since you were awakened.  Has he behaved with cruelty?  Committed unnecessary violence?”

“No.  And no,” Rarity shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  Shame and resentment wrestled like two worms in her gut.  She felt nauseous.

“In your opinion, has he been showing any signs of lusting after power?  Any personal ambitions?”

“Not at all.”  Rarity’s heart sank further.

“I see.”  Habeus scribbled a few more notes.  “I’m sorry I’m being so harsh, Rarity.  But I believe Princess Flurry is going to unfairly paint Heartwing as some sort of megalomaniacal monster.  And I just don’t believe that this is the case.”

“I…” Rarity’s mind swam.  She wanted to crawl under the table and not think about Heartwing.

Discord killed Twilight.

Heartwing saved her from the cave.

Discord went mad.

Heartwing brought her Emberglow.

Discord helped destroy the world.

Heartwing was trying to save it.

“If it’s all the same to you, Habeus, I’d rather not be called as a witness.  I don’t know if I’ll be of much help to your case.”

“But will you come if Princess Flurry’s barrister calls you up?” Habeus asked.  Rarity shook her head.  She didn’t know.

There was a knock, and the conference room door tilted open a crack.  A gold-armored yak poked her head in.

“Guard Yolene is here with a message for Miss Rarity,” the yak said formally, though there was a hint of awe in her voice.  “Guard Yolene was asked by th-the E-e-empress herself to come invite Miss Rarity to speak with her.  If you’re not busy, Miss Rarity.”

Rarity glanced at Habeus, who sighed.  “An audience with the Empress is rare.  You and I might continue this conversation later.  Or perhaps, like you say, you will not be much help to my case.  I ask you to consider what you truly want, however.  It may be that Heartwing’s fate rests on your own choice.  And if so, could you really live with yourself if your friend, even one you’ve had a falling out with, was punished unfairly because of your actions?”

“This was no mere falling out,” Rarity said coldly, and stood from her seat.  “Lead the way, Yolene.”

The yak guard held the door open for Rarity, then guided her out of the Sunrise Hall.  Rarity’s other friends were shooting curious looks her way.  “Everything is fine, darlings.  I’ve just been asked to speak with Empress Cadance.”

“Have fun!” Topaz waved, beaming.  For some reason, Emberglow looked rather nervous, but Rarity didn’t want to make Cadance wait, so she refrained from asking.  Instead, she followed the guard out of the hall.

“This is the first time the Empress has ever spoken to Guard Yolene,” Yolene admitted as soon as they were outside the hall.  “It used to be that she never spoke to anypony.  Now, it happens more and more.  Yolene heard that you were friends with the Empress, and you spoke with her plenty.”

“Spoke with her?  Darling, I literally designed her wedding dress.  I was one of her bridesmaids.”  Perhaps it was a little boastful to name-drop in this fashion, but the look of wonder on Yolene’s face made it worthwhile.  She was practically prancing along with excitement, her heavy hooves sending echoing clacks down the hallway as they impacted against the crystalline floors.

“Truly?  C-can you tell Guard Yolene what she was like back then?”

Rarity had to grin at her foal-like eagerness.  “Princess Cadance, as she was known at the time, was one of the kindest, most beautiful, and elegant ponies I’d ever met.  She was always quite patient and gracious.  It was actually how my friend Twilight Sparkle realized she’d been replaced by an imposter at her own wedding.”

Retelling stories of her old life was beginning to happen more and more often.  Rarity found herself relishing the role of the storyteller, even in tales where she didn’t feature as the star.  She told Yolene of the days before the wedding, of Twilight’s odd, increasingly paranoid behavior, and her own cruel dismissal of her friend’s concerns.  And then the attack came.

“You must understand, changelings in those days were nothing like the wonderful creatures you live alongside now.  They were fully under the sway of that wretched Queen.  As soon as they had the opportunity to break free, they did so.”

She told the rest of the story, and was gratified when the guard clapped her hooves with glee at the magical love explosion that expelled the evil queen from the city.  Rarity thought it might be stretching professional guard behavior just a little, but she couldn’t find it in herself to judge too harshly.

“Thank you for telling Guard Yolene.  Guard Yolene has always been proud to be one of the Empress’ guards, but Guard Yolene has never before been addressed by the Empress.  Even before, as a young yak, she never spoke when the school children visited her.  She only smiled at us, without even opening her eyes.  Things are changing, and Guard Yolene thinks it’s wonderful that the Empress is interacting with the world again.”

“I’m excited to see her again, after all this time.”  In truth, Rarity felt another spike of guilt.  She should have gone to see Cadance first thing when she’d arrived; but there had been catching up with Princess Flurry, and dinner, and then there’d been the gifts of fashion in her room and the morning meeting.  Things were moving so quickly that she was letting her social graces slide.  She resolved to apologize to Cadance as soon as she saw her.

Guard Yolene led her to a solid door, guarded by two gold-armored ponies.  They nodded as Yolene saluted.

“Guard Yolene has brought the Empress’ guest as requested, Captain.”

“She’s waiting inside,” the captain said, and the two guards pushed the door open.  “Just go to the end of the hall, it opens into the Empress’ dais.”

Within, Rarity saw a hallway that widened into a larger room.  Slowly she stepped inside, her hooves making no sound on the plush carpet.  She spied the dais, where Cadance sat, attached by metal bracers to a strange contraption.  Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be sleeping.

“C-cadance?” Rarity whispered, almost too afraid to speak.  What if she was sleeping?  Surely she needed her rest; Rarity had heard that powering the vast shield that kept the Empire safe was an exhausting task.

But then Cadance’s lips twisted up in a smile, and she spoke, her voice raspy.  “Sunshine, sunshine,” she breathed.  “Ladybugs awake.”

“Clap your hooves and do a little shake,” Rarity called back, her own smile growing as she wiggled her rump just a little to finish the rhyme.  “Really, Princess Cadance?  After all these years, you can’t let go of that silly little rhyme?”

“Never, Rarity.” The empress finally opened her eyes, glancing at the bust of Twilight Sparkle which Rarity hadn’t noticed on the side of the room.  “Come give me a hug.  It’s been a bit too long.”

Rarity closed the distance, stepping up onto the raised dais and very carefully encircling the frail-looking alicorn in her hooves.  Cadance hugged her back, and Rarity felt the wetness of unshed tears in her eyes.

“Sorry I didn’t come right away when I got here.  Things have been a little… chaotic.”

“I understand that,” Cadance said.  “I’m a little isolated here.  Though not completely.”  She pulled back from the hug, offering Rarity a slight smile.  This close, Rarity could see the bags under Cadance’s eyes.  And her once luxurious mane, now tangled and thin.

“Cadance, darling.  How long as it been since you treated yourself to a trip to the spa?”

Cadance snorted with amusement, which became a full belly laugh.  “D-did you know,” she said, catching her breath.  “Did you know I made a bet with myself?  That this would be the first real question you asked me?  Never change, Rarity.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Rarity admitted darkly.  She thought of all the change that had already come.  Of Twilight’s spell, of the construct.  She thought of the world itself.  “I feel like this new world is changing me, whether I like it or not.”

“I see,” Cadance said.  “Well, have a seat next to me.  Let’s talk about it.”

“That can’t be why you had me summoned, Princ… I mean, Empress.”

“Rarity, everypony else calls me Empress.  So help me if you can’t call me by my name, I’ll have you arrested for something and sentenced to shovel snow in front of the palace.”

“As you command, Cadance.” Rarity smirked.  She sat next to the withered monarch.  “If I’d known you were in this state, I would have brought the spa to you.  What have you been doing to yourself?  How have you been eating?”

“Would you believe I haven’t eaten a bite in centuries?” Cadance said.  Rarity eyed her skeptically.  “It’s true.”  She jangled the bracers at her forehooves.  “The Apparatus of Ocellus, they call it.  It’s connected to the Crystal Heart.  It allows my subjects to sustain me with the power of their love, much like changelings.  In return, I am able to power the shield.  The Apparatus keeps the shield going, even when I sleep.”

“I heard something about foals and other children coming to visit you,” Rarity said.  “You take love from them?”

“Not take,” Cadance said gently.  “It is offered.”  She pointed with her hoof at the array of crayon drawings taped to the walls around her.  “It’s often a real occasion for the young creatures, to come visit me.  I love to see them, even if in the past I’ve been too tired to do much of anything else.”

“I see.”  Some part of her twisted with horror.  This was wrong.  “So you’re a prisoner.”

“By my own choice, yes,” Cadance agreed.  Rarity looked at her in shock.  She hadn’t expected the other pony to agree.  “And it can’t last forever.  Especially not with you and your friends here.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Elements of Harmony are gathering.  A change is coming.  The Diarchy itself is in turmoil, and soon your friends will be called upon to save all ponies from a fate even worse than their autocratic rule.  You will play a role in this, as well.”

“How do you know?”

Cadance’s smile was cryptic.  “When you and your friends from Ponyville were chosen as the Elements of Harmony, did you know that Celestia actually had a say in what kind of pony got chosen?”

Rarity shook her head, her eyes wide.  Cadance’s horn lit up, crafting an illusion spell.  The image of a tree, the Tree of Harmony, filled the room, complete with the cutie marks of Celestia and Luna on the trunk.

“She knew the time of Nightmare Moon’s return was coming.”  A small, illusory Celestia approached the tree, falling to her knees in supplication.  “She went to beg the Tree for her help.  She wanted her sister back, after all those years, and she was willing to do anything.”  The tree shook, flashing with magical light and a second Celestia appeared near the first.  This Celestia, though, was even more ghostly; it was the Tree herself, Rarity realized.  The Tree of Harmony reached down with a hoof, raising Celestia up until they were standing side by side.

“The Tree told Celestia that she would be unable to use the Elements by herself again; that doing so would most likely kill her.”

“As it did Twilight,” Rarity muttered.

“Yes,” Cadance said sadly.  “So Celestia begged the Tree to allow her to do it anyways.  Anything would be worth returning her sister, even her own life.  The tree, however, offered an alternative.”

Suddenly the illusion spoke, the mouth of the Tree of Harmony illusion moving in time with the voice.  “Allow others to bear this burden, and this joy, Celestia.  Do not take it all upon your own shoulders.  Trust and believe.”

Cadance spoke again.  “Celestia was loath to thrust others in the battle between herself and Nightmare Moon, but the Tree insisted that it was the only way Luna could truly return.  She even offered to let Celestia pick the kind of ponies that would bear the Elements.”

“Celestia chose us?” Rarity said, wonderingly.

“Not specifically.  She told the Tree to look for normal, average, everyday ponies.  Not accomplished heroes, but real ponies.  The kind that could lift the whole nation of Equestria up with them, instead of, like Celestia, being so high above them as to be inaccessible.  So, the Tree chose Twilight Sparkle, and your friends.

“Now.  Move forward a millennia.”  The scene swirled, and became a smaller version of the very room they were in.  A tiny, translucent Cadance rested on a miniature dais.  She appeared to be sleeping, just as she had when Rarity had first entered her chamber.

A cracking sound came from the illusion, the crystal floor split, and something wormed through the jagged opening.  Illusion Cadance sat up with alarm, rearing back from the split.  But what squeezed through was a small root; Rarity recognized it as a root of the Tree of Harmony.  She glanced down at the floor, where the crack should have been.  It was hidden by the carpet.

At the tip of the root, a beautiful, five-blossomed flower bloomed, opening up to reveal a rainbow of color splashed over the petals.  They shined with white light, and the image of Twilight Sparkle appeared.

“Empress Cadance,” the Tree intoned.

“Hello, Harmony,” Illusion Cadance said, after a few seconds to recover herself. 

The image smiled but shook her head.  “No… time.  You need to choose.”

“Choose?”

“Like Celestia before you.  Choose what kind of ponies will be the new Elements.”

The image in the illusion barely hesitated for a second.  “Love,” Cadance whispered.  “Ponies defined by love.  This world needs more love, to fight back the hate.”

“The love of a father for a son.  The love of a sister for the brother she lost.  The love of a granddaughter for her grandmothers.  The love of lovers, present and future.  The love of all.  It will be done, Cadance.  Thank you.”

The illusion faded, and Rarity looked to the real Cadance.  “Of course that is what you would prioritize,” she said, and Cadance gave a little teasing half-bow.  “But what does this have to do with me?  The last I checked, I’m not an Element bearer any longer.  Perhaps you should find a way to wake the new princess, and share this with her.”

“You believe Sunset Shimmer is the sixth Element bearer?” Cadance said.

“Who else could it possibly be?  She’s a student of both Celestia and Twilight Sparkle.”

“I see.”  Cadance tapped her chin thoughtfully with one hoof.  “It could be.  I don’t know.  But I called you here because, in my perhaps rusty and infrequently used role of Princess of Love, which I never abdicated even when I locked myself away as a permanent battery, I have been called upon to help… smooth out the love life of one of the new Elements.”

“Who?” Rarity asked.

“Emberglow,” Cadance replied flatly, and Rarity suddenly felt the blazing intensity of Cadance’s gaze.  She felt like so much raw produce, being weighed and measured before the Princess.  “I have some worries about her own love life.”

“I-I see,” Rarity stammered.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”  Cadance tittered.  “Wait, what am I saying?  It’s like I forgot who I was speaking to.  But do relax, Rarity.”  Cadance sighed with pleasure.  “I’m not here to make you uncomfortable.  But I would like to ask some questions.  You are aware that Emberglow is crazy about you, right?”

“I’m aware, yes,” Rarity said.  Her mind drifted back, even to their first moments in the cave, with Emberglow’s eyes darting about, her face red, not knowing where to look to be polite.  A warm smile spread over her face before she realized it.

“I’m going to guess, given how you’re smiling, that you feel similarly?”

Rarity didn’t trust her voice, so she nodded.

“I would like you to put it into words, Rarity.  How do you feel about Emberglow?”  Cadance’s eyes sparkled with glee.  “And feel free to be as poetic with your language as you like.”

Rarity laughed at that.  “Emberglow was one of the first things I saw when I woke up.  She was so confused and scared, but she made it a point to try to defend me from a perceived threat anyways.”  She remembered sourly that said threat was Heartwing.  “She was hurt and terrified and so dirty, but she shone that day.  And when she learned the truth, the way she wept…” Rarity shuddered.  “I barely knew her, and I wanted to hold her and make it alright.”

“So within minutes of meeting her, she showed you both her heroic side and her vulnerability?” Cadance mused.  “No wonder you fell for her.”

Rarity opened her mouth to respond, then paused.  “What do you mean, darling?”

“Well, what sorts of books were you always reading?” Cadance’s grin was eager.  “A dashing hero, sweeping an elegant heroine off her hooves with his acts of derring-do.  And later, she finds some flaw in him, some weakness, that only makes him more vulnerable and thus appealing to her?”

Rarity pursed her lips, trying not to be annoyed.  That did, unfortunately, describe her reading habits far too accurately.  Had she fallen into a rut?

“All I’m saying is, she pushes all of your buttons.”

“She is a few inches taller than me,” Rarity said with a little giggle.  “But it’s more than that.  She’s sweet and pure, too.  On one leg of our journey, she asked me to teach her how to flirt.”  Rarity’s grin was threatening to become permanent, and she resisted the Fluttershy-like urge to hide her glowing cheeks behind the curl of her mane.  “It was so adorably innocent!  I must confess I took advantage of the situation to tease the poor mare mercilessly, but I daresay she enjoyed every second of it.  I know I did.”

“So what went wrong?”

“Wrong?” Rarity cocked her head to one side, confused.  “I don’t think anything went wrong, per se, but…”

“But your relationship has reached a bit of a plateau, hasn’t it?  It’s not progressing.  And that’s what I sense when I talk to both of you.”

“It’s Heartwing’s fault,” Rarity said, and even as the words left her lips she hated herself a little for saying them.  “I-I mean, it’s…”  She trailed off.  “Everything changed after we met Spike. Now Mlinzi.  Heartwing’s… actions are a big part of that.” Saying it out loud made her feel guilty.  Tainted, somehow, as if she were admitting to some sort of crime.  “That’s when I found Twilight, and had this spell cast on me.”

“You found Twilight?” Something in Cadance’s tone told Rarity she knew more than she was letting on, but she explained anyways.

“Well, a construct, that Twilight made.  It’s like she’s really here, sometimes.  I’ve been learning all sorts of things about my newfound power from her.  And Twilight’s so easy to learn from, too.  I may have teased Twilight in the past for her pedagogy, but she’s helped me understand everything from how to exercise my stronger telekinesis to the beginnings of teleportation theory.”

“You keep referring to the construct as if it is really her, and not just a tool Twilight made.”

“Well, you should see it, darling!  When Twilight speaks, it's as if she’s really there in the room with me!”  Rarity was already standing, ready to rush back to her suite to retrieve Twilight.  “Let me go fetch it, I’ll show you!”

“But… it’s not Twilight,” Cadance said.  Her voice was soothing, the kind of tone one would use to communicate with a misbehaving foal.

“Of course it’s not Twilight, Cadance,” Rarity said, with some asperity.  “Why would you—”

“You keep saying her name.  Rarity.  Twilight Sparkle is gone.  She’s not in the construct.  It’s like the love letters I still have that Shiny wrote me, or the journal that Flurry keeps that still has Sunburst’s last thoughts.  We may feel them in our hearts when we read them, but that doesn’t mean they’re here.”

“I know that, darling,” Rarity was breathing hard, trying to contain the swell of angry heat in her breast.  “I know she’s not there.  But it’s so real, I can almost remember.”

“Of course it is.  And of course you can.”  Cadance’s eyes filled with sympathetic tears.  “And I would love to see the construct as well, when we have more time.  But it won’t bring Twilight back.”

Rarity knew that.  It was stupid.  Of course the construct wasn’t Twilight.  Didn’t they understand?  It was the same thing Emberglow had told her.  She wasn’t some delusional nitwit, clinging to a ghost.   

“I know that,” Rarity repeated, some of the heat flowing into her tone.  “And frankly, I’m tired of being told.  I don’t even see what any of this has to do with anything that’s going on.  What business is it of any of yours what I do with the study aid that Twilight left for me?”

“It is our business because I’m your friend, Rarity.  And we don’t want to see you retreat from the world, from your new friends in the present, because you’re too busy speaking to a ghost from the past.”

It was just like the time Emberglow had shut off the construct.  But Rarity was doing better, now.  She’d apologized.  She was even designing again.  “I don’t think you have any right to be judging me for retreating from the world, Empress Cadance,” Rarity stiffly emphasized the title.  “I think we might be done here.  Apparently, I’m going to be called on to testify in a trial.  A trial, may I remind you, over the fate of the creature that killed your sister-in-law.  I should probably be resting instead of creating more anxiety for myself.  Such as the kind made by arguing with ponies who are supposed to be my friends.”

“We are your friends, Rarity.  And we’re only looking out for you.  I hope you can see that.”

Rarity threw up her hooves.  “What do you want me to do, darling?  I hate being at odds with you like this.  I need you to stop… beating about the bush and just come out and say what you mean.”

“Very well, Rarity.  Your relationship with Emberglow, and your relationship with all your other friends, is suffering.  It’s suffering because of what happened back when you met with Spike, because of how you’re approaching this situation with Heartwing, and because of the time and attention you’re giving to an uncanny learning aid.  That’s what I think.”

“And we all know you’re the expert,” Rarity sneered.  Cadance nodded patiently.  “So you’re asking me to… what?  Forgive Heartwing for what he’s done?”

“No.  I wouldn’t ask that.” Cadance shook her head.  “Forgiveness is personal.  And private.  But your antagonism with him is making it hard for you to grow closer with a mare who cares about you deeply, and who you care about in turn.  You need to find a way to come to terms with that and move forward.  The construct is adding an additional level of complication to the whole situation.  Resolve either one, and you may find yourself moving forward with Emberglow.  If that’s what you want.”

Rarity opened her mouth to argue, but Cadance held up a hoof.  “Look at the Empire, Rarity.  What have you seen so far of my country, my people?  You always had your hoof on the pulse of society.  What have you noticed so far?  How much has the Empire changed?”

Rarity blinked.  It was an unexpected question.  “Not much has changed, Cadance.”

“Exactly.  Flurry told me once it was on purpose.  The less the Empire changes, the less out of place I will feel when I finally emerge from my self-exile.  So the Empire is, so to speak, frozen in time.  Ponies come and go, but the buildings?  The culture?  The language?  The statue of Spike the Brave and Glorious?  Nothing changes.  Up here, we’re like a time capsule.  The world moved on, and it left us behind.

“Flurry had the best of intentions, I realize.  And I can’t say she was wrong.  She has preserved and saved us, saved the memory of what pony kind should be.  And perhaps now we can serve as an example of what we could all have.”

“The cost seems dire,” Rarity breathed, looking over the room.  It was a luxury prison, but a prison nonetheless.

“One I was happy to pay.  But we’re not talking about that.  We’re talking about being frozen in the past.  Never progressing, never moving forward.  Never taking the risk, to step into the future, to see what might be.”

“Not exactly subtle, Cadance,” Rarity mumbled.

“I’m not trying to be, Rarity.  I’ve told you what you might need to do to break out of the ice.  Now it’s up to you if you want to take that leap of faith.  But whatever you chose, know that I love and support you fully, even though I do hope you’ll choose love.”

Was that what she wanted?  Rarity thought of what it felt like to kiss Emberglow.  The way they pressed against each other, the need she had felt.  For one moment, before the baggage rolled in like a low tide, they had slipped together like perfectly matching puzzle pieces.

Could she have that again?

Could she have that… all the time?

Rarity gulped, swallowing hard.  “All right, Cadance.  I shall give it thought.  Thank you.”  She took a deep breath.  “I’m sorry I was so rude.  I know you have my best interests at heart.”

“What do you have planned, now?”

“I need some time to myself, I think.  But I’ll figure something out soon.”


*   *   *   *   *


Rarity was in no mood to return to the rest of their party, still discussing the upcoming trial with the changeling leaders.  Instead she retreated back to her suite.  Everything was just as she’d left it, including the construct.  She levitated it up onto the table in the parlor, staring at the sculpted image of one of her oldest friends.  Twilight Sparkle, frozen forever in time and in memory.

One word would turn it on, would fill the room and the world with Twilight’s voice again.  And Rarity could forget, for a time, everything that was different, that was vile and cruel and terrible about this world, and pretend that Twilight had returned to her side.

That Princess Twilight had the answers to fix things.

“Oh my,” Rarity whispered to the empty room.  “I have been using you to hide, haven’t I?”  Twilight Sparkle said nothing, even when Rarity began to weep silently.

After a few minutes, Rarity shook her head.  This was not like her.  For one thing, there was not a single drop of ice cream in the room.  It was impossible to have a proper meltdown in the absence of cold, creamy perfection.  For the second, she’d always prided herself on her adaptability, her near-prescience when it came to shifting focus and tactics when it came to next season’s fashion line, or next month’s surprise trend.

So, lacking ice cream (and ignoring the fact that there was probably a nearby servant who she could summon to acquire some), that just meant she’d have to find another way to pull herself out of her slump.  And that meant creation!

So Cadance wanted her to connect more closely with Emberglow, did she?  Rarity knew just what to do about that.  Fashion!  She remembered Emberglow mentioning that any cold-weather gear Rarity designed would surely be more fabulous than the bland, utilitarian disasters they’d had on Pearl Shimmer.  Perhaps a nice coat?  Something that really set off Emberglow’s warm colors.

Rarity considered fetching her sketchbook first, but instead her horn lit up and she lifted the lid off the first of the crates.  Several rows of fabric bolts were stacked neatly inside, and she made good use of her newfound telekinetic dexterity and heft to lift them all out at once, sending them slowly spinning in a rotating circle around her.  She studied each color and material with her expert eye, putting several back in the crate before placing her choices on an empty chair.  Then she opened the second crate, repeating the process.  The third followed.  Finally she had a stack, mostly consisting of dyed cottons and wools, laid out for her viewing pleasure.

“Twilight, darling,” she spoke out loud.  The room was too quiet, and she could at least fill it with some noise.  “I’m looking to design something spectacular for Emberglow.  Something that will be both practical and fashionable.  I’m having trouble deciding on the base, though.  Should I go with the cream cotton, or the bleached wool?”

“That information is not stored in this construct,” Twilight replied.

“Of course it isn’t, darling.  It’s just fine, I think I prefer the cream more myself.  It may not be as warm, but she is a pegasus, after all.  They tend to be more resilient in the cold weather.  Now, about accents.  I’m thinking of some sort of border.  Maybe in a cool color, perhaps an ice blue?  What do you think?

“That information is not stored in this construct.”

“I thought not.  Well, perhaps blue isn’t the way to go.  What if I matched her mane?  Crimson on cream would look lovely.  Although, she does typically wear those white robes.  Tell me, Twilight.  Do you have any ideas on how to make my design visually distinct from her usual attire?”

“That information is not stored in this construct.”

“Well, that’s to be expected.  Thank you for listening anyway.  Hmm… perhaps red for the lining, not for a border.  A deep, crimson red, maybe even silk for comfort!  Ooh!  This is just the thing!  And then a light dusty rose faux fur on the trim, for extra warmth.  That would certainly distinguish it from her Knight attire.  I wonder; her robes have my cutie mark on them.  What if hers has her own?  The only problem is, I’m not quite sure what it looks like.  Do you know what it looks like, Twilight?”

“That information is not stored in this construct.”

“I suppose this is getting rather silly at this point.  I wonder at what point in time I decided to make dear Cadance’s point for her?”  She sighed.  “What am I supposed to do, Twilight?  How do I make amends and improvements to my relationship with Emberglow, and my other friends?”

“Remember the lessons of friendship, of course,” the construct said, and Rarity nearly fell off her seat.  Floating bolts of fabric, ribbon, and lace went careening to the floor at her loss of concentration.  Was it really that simple?  Had she really just… forgotten for a moment everything she’d learned?

“Thank you for reminding me of my priorities, Twilight.  You can go ahead and shut down, or whatever it is you do.  I don’t think I’ll need your help for the designing bit.”


*   *   *   *   *


The morning of the first day of trial was tense.  Everypony seemed to know that Rarity had been having a hard time talking about Heartwing, so every conversation felt like walking on eggshells.  They avoided the elephant in the room: the upcoming hearing.

When it came time for the trial to begin, changeling guards came and retrieved the ponies as an escort.  Rarity had insisted they all dress in their best, most formal wear, so for the Knights that meant cleanly washed and repaired robes, while for Topaz it meant a court dress, chosen by Rarity for its military style with buttons running down the breast.  Rarity’s own dress was professional and elegant.  She would have preferred something of her own make, but she hadn’t had enough time to study the current fashion trends.  The end result was beautiful, if a little different than what she was used to.  It featured a sleek body and a long skirt, cut high to allow for plenty of movement.  The linen was dyed a deep navy blue, a nice complement to her own violet mane, and was finished with a blocky white trim on the edges.

This time, the Sunrise Hall was packed with observers.  Mostly they were a mix of changelings and crystal ponies, though Rarity did see other creatures that made up the Empire, including yaks, dogs, and a few unicorns.  With some displeasure, she noted the turquoise colored mare who Emberglow had warned her about: a Diarchy knight, dressed in pink robes with Pinkie Pie’s cutie mark emblazoned arrogantly on the flank.  She was surrounded by four guards, dressed in the severe uniform of the Diarchy military.  Rarity made sure to glare her disapproval, though the mare was trying hard not to look at her.

In the front of the room, the two thrones sat empty.  Changeling guards armed with the same pronged spears as before stood at either end.  There was no sign of any of the local monarchs.

In the center stood a pair of tables.  Heartwing, bound head to hoof in chains, sat at one, along with Habeus.  At the other table were two crystal ponies, older stallions.  One had a long, pink moustache and beard that reminded Rarity a little of Starswirl.  The other wore glasses, and looked out over the room with wise, observant eyes.  He met Rarity’s gaze and they widened slightly as he shifted with surprise, ruffling wings Rarity hadn’t even noticed.

Probably somepony who had grown up with stories of her, then.

There was a section of pillows roped off for Rarity and her companions, with satin pads spread out on the floor for them to sit.  Rarity took her place next to Emberglow, who was tense and nervous.  She wouldn’t meet Rarity’s eyes.

“Don’t worry, darling.  This will all be over soon.”

“Yes, but how exactly will it end?” Emberglow asked darkly.  Rarity frowned, but said nothing.  They sat down and waited.

It wasn’t long.  A changeling dressed in official-looking black robes emerged from the door behind the thrones.  “All rise for their majesties, Queen Chrysalis the Fifth and King Pharynx the Third.”

Everypony shuffled to their feet, and the door behind the thrones opened again to reveal the queen, carrying the king in her hooves.  She flew over to the thrones, landing in front of his and gently setting him down, before moving back to hers.

“Remain standing, please,” the official said.  This time it was the doors Rarity came through that opened, to reveal another group of ceremonially dressed guards.  Their uniforms were cloth, instead of armor, and they were resplendent with polished buttons and carefully arranged gold epaulets over lavender jackets.  Each one wore a sheathed sword at their side, a ceremonial weapon with a filigree hilt.  Behind them strode Princess Flurry Heart, her head raised high, her expression a mask of cold regality.  “Announcing Princess Flurry Heart, Monarch of Snow and Ice, Raiser of the Sun and Moon.”

Princess Flurry approached the twin thrones and bowed slightly to the changeling royalty, a mere dip of her head, before taking a seat at the same table as the prosecuting barristers.  Rarity stared in confusion.

“Wait, if it’s her palace, why is she bowing to them?” she whispered.

Emberglow shrugged.  “Topaz tried to explain it, but it’s all a little confusing to me.  I guess since all of the leaders have sworn fealty to Empress Cadance, everypony is equal?  But Princess Flurry speaks for the Empress, so she’s a little more than equal?  So in order for the King and Queen to have authority in this trial, legally this audience hall is made sovereign changeling territory for the duration.  That’s what Topaz said, at least.”

Rarity would have been more self-conscious about all the whispering, but there was a low hum audible across all the participants and observers.  Many creatures were speculating and gossiping with their neighbors.

“That makes sense,” Rarity whispered back.  She watched as the Queen rose, waiting politely as the rest of the room quieted down.

“Friends and subjects, dear allies and distant cousins,” she gave a nod towards the Diarchy ambassador at the end.  “I thank you for coming on this important day.  My brother and I,” she motioned to King Pharynx, “have been asked to preside over today's proceedings.  Heartwing, once known as Discord, you are charged with several dire counts, including the regicide of Princess Twilight Sparkle.  I am told that you have pled guilty to these charges.  Do you wish to change your plea at this time?”

“No, your majesties,” Heartwing called out.  His voice was hoarse.  Rarity wondered why.

“Then we may proceed with the sentencing hearing.  Multiple witnesses have come today, ready to plead for mercy, or to demand strict justice.  Would you like to speak on your own behalf?”

“Your majesties,” Habeus slid in smoothly.  “Heartwing will not be speaking on his own behalf today.”  He shot an annoyed look at Heartwing, though it quickly disappeared.  “I will be calling several of his friends and associates, in order to showcase that he has changed significantly and been rehabilitated from the creature he once was.  If the court will allow it.”

“It will,” Queen Chrysalis said.  “And you will be providing counter witnesses for the prosecution, Gear Tooth and Pressure Front?”

“Yes, your majesties,” the mustachioed barrister intoned in a deep bass voice.  “Our intent is to show that no matter what change may have come over this creature, he is still far too chaotic and dangerous to be allowed free.  It is the opinion of the Princess that he should be incarcerated indefinitely for his crimes.”

“Very well.”  The queen glanced across the courtroom.  “I have also been informed that a third party wishes to address the court?  Iron Oxide, you wish to make a statement?”

“I do, your majesties,” a voice from the back of the courtroom spoke.  Rarity turned to see a young crystal pony standing beside the Diarchy ambassador.  “I have been retained to represent the interests of Lady Turquoise of the Holy Equestrian Diarchy.  She, and her people, believe they have a vested interest in the outcome of the trial, and wish to make a statement for the court record.”  He cleared his throat, holding up a sheet of paper, and began to read.

“We, the ponies of the Holy Equestrian Diarchy, applaud the wise and noble efforts of Princess Flurry Heart to see this vile and contemptible creature ‘Heartwing’ brought to justice.  We pledge the support of the Diarchy in the Princess’ goal in seeing him incarcerated forever.  In addition, the creature Heartwing has committed multiple acts of terrorism, theft, murder, and brutality throughout our borders.  Should the Crystal Crown be unable to obtain a punishment fitting these crimes, and should Her Highness allow it, we will be seeking to extradite this dangerous criminal so that he can face justice in our own lands.  We are also prepared to testify as to the specifics of the crimes he has committed against our innocent ponies.”

Rarity’s stomach twisted with disgust, and she could see the scowl on Princess Flurry’s muzzle, cracking her cool, professional royal demeanor.  She was probably just now understanding her own anger put her on the same side as the Diarchy, Rarity realized.  She wasn’t sure where she stood herself, but Rarity felt a slimy ooze of self-hatred in her head at the idea that her own thoughts may have been aligned with those bigots, for whatever reason.

“Thank you, Mister Oxide,” the Queen said, nothing breaking her own serene composure.  She glanced at her brother.  “Are you ready to proceed?”

“Of course,” King Pharynx said.  “Gear Tooth, the prosecution may make its case first.”

The mustachioed barrister stood.  “Thank you, your majesties.  Our first witness will be Professor Onyx Stripe, of the Imperial University.”

A crystal pony with jet-black fur and a grey mane stood from the gallery, approaching the space before the thrones.  He bowed low to the King and Queen, before standing again.

“Professor Stripe, can you tell us your scholarly qualifications?”

“I am the holder of the Imperial University’s Seat of Ancient Equestrian History.  I have studied the time of the Bearers of the Elements for five decades.  I have written three books on the subject of the time period leading up to the coup and eventual takeover of Equestria by the Cult of the Saints, the organization now known as ‘the Diarchy’.  I am considered the foremost expert of that period by my colleagues.”

“Your majesties?” Habeus interjected.  “Is the testimony of this witness truly necessary?  Sir Heartwing has pled guilty.  The facts of the case are not really in question.”

“On the contrary, your majesties,” Gear Tooth said.  “It seems very relevant to discuss the impact of his choices.  To do so, we must have the proper historical context.”

“This is a sentencing hearing, not a trial,” King Pharynx mused.  “I think there’s room for some context.  Continue.”

Rarity tried to turn off her ears, to stop listening, as the professor began to describe what had happened on that day.  He showed ancient, preserved photographs of a crater where Ponyville had once stood.  Each detail, each home ruined, each pony that didn’t quite evacuate quickly enough, was another nail in Rarity’s heart.  Sure, most of them weren’t ponies she had known personally, due to the passage of time, but she couldn’t bear to look at the smoking wreckage of her home, even in photos.

“Thank you, professor.  Can you now describe the results of the events of that day?”

“It’s purely speculative, but the consensus among my peers is that the death of Twilight Sparkle led directly to the rise of the Diarchy.  Every single historian I know agrees that the rebel cultists would not have been able to seize Canterlot if Twilight Sparkle had still been alive.”

Rarity wanted to crouch down and cover her ears, but she couldn’t.  She glanced over at Heartwing.  He sat stoically in his chains, but tears streamed down his face.  She glanced over at Princess Flurry, who was also crying, though her own baleful look was locked onto the prisoner himself.  She even glanced at the pink-robed Diarchy Knight, whose eyes were alight with a sort of sickening satisfaction.

Rarity’s own head swam with confusion.  What was she supposed to do?  Nothing she did now could change the outcome of the trial, could it?  Did she even want to?

The next witness was another historian; this one an archivist.  Rarity didn’t even register her name.  She read the eyewitness accounts of the destruction.  Rarity recognized some of those names; Pound Cake, who lost his sister and her foals in the blast.  Coda Heartstrings, who was paralyzed by the crumbling remains of his mothers’ home when he went back to try and retrieve their family photo albums.  Cheesecake, apparently granddaughter of Pinkie and Cheese Sandwich, who lost her newlywed husband in the blast.  Even though the witness read each story with a dispassionate voice, Rarity could tell that Heartwing and the Princess weren’t the only ones weeping.

The next several witnesses were there to testify to the horrors of the Diarchy itself.  Habeus objected again, and once again was overruled by the monarchs.  Several pony expatriates got up to testify, describing horrific conditions.  A muscular pegasus stallion told the tale of a forced maiming after he was discovered with his male lover.  A unicorn described the harrying journey she had to make when her hiding place was found out by nosy neighbors.  A family of earth ponies recounted the conditions of their farming village, how ponies were not allowed to leave without permission of the local confessor.  Gear Tooth had even found a young griffon, who described her own parents being put to death for the crime of trying to help smuggle ponies out of the Diarchy.

“Your majesties, this is excessive,” Habeus finally said when the young hen had finished her own testimony.  “We all know just how savage and dangerous the Diarchy is.”  Rarity heard a huff of anger from behind her, but didn’t turn to dignify the ambassador with another look.  “We don’t need a dozen witnesses to remind us.”

“Do any of your further witnesses have a direct connection to Heartwing?” Queen Chrysalis asked.  

Gear Tooth nodded. “One more, your honor.  Princess Flurry Heart would like to testify.”

There was a sudden buzz of excitement about the audience hall, but Rarity’s stomach sunk.  With each new witness, Princess Flurry’s face had grown harder and harder, despite the wet stain of tears on her cheeks.  Finally she approached the throne from her place at the prosecution table.

“Your Majesties.  I thank you from the bottom of my heart that you have come to undertake this grim duty today,” she spoke.  The audience’s jabber immediately silenced to a dead hush.  “I promise the prosecution will not waste any more of the court's time, after I have spoken.

“I loved my aunt.  She was dear to me.  She was dear to the whole world, and we have just spent the last three hours coming to understand just what her loss meant to all of us.  This… pony, this monster, was supposed to be her friend.  But instead of listening to her, instead of calming his madness and his grief, he gave in, lost control of his power, and caused death and havoc that have reached a thousand years into our time.

“When he awoke, he didn’t seek to take responsibility for his actions, but instead engaged in a foolish campaign of destruction, anarchy, and pointless rebellion.  He is irresponsible and dangerous, and there must be a reckoning.”

“Thank you, your highness,” Gear Tooth said.  “I would like to have some more specifics regarding some points, though.  Your aunt, Twilight Sparkle, was Princess of Friendship, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And Discord was, supposedly, her friend?”

“He professed to be.  Until he forced her to kill herself while turning him into stone.”

“Of course.  Did she see what was happening?  Did she try to stop what he was doing?”

“She begged him to stop,” Princess Flurry spat.  “Pleaded with him.  As the maelstrom of his out-of-control chaos magic began to grow and surround Ponyville in a whirlwind of destruction, her first instinct was to try to reason with the mad creature.  Maybe if she’d just killed him, none of this would have happened.  She’d still be alive, and Equestria would still be at peace, united.”

“But he was beyond reason?”

“We’re here today, aren’t we?  The results speak for themselves.”

“But Heartwing claims to have changed.  The defense insists the Heartwing of today is not the Discord of yesterday.”

“And we have nothing but his word to suggest that!” Princess Flurry snarled.  “We are just to trust him?  To take what he says at face value?  What if it happens again?”  She pointed a hoof at Terminus.  “We saw what happened when Fluttershy died.  Heartwing lost control.  But all accounts say he has retained his longevity, if not his old form.  What is to happen when this lover of his dies?  Will Angel’s Rest become a crater, as well?”

Rarity shot a glance back at the Diarchy ambassador, who had a suddenly interested look on her face.  Princess Flurry scowled, as if realizing her mistake.  From what Rarity understood, the Diarchy knew very little about Angel’s Rest, and the Princess had just proved that she was aware of it. 

“The point is,” Princess Flurry continued after a calming breath.  “We have no way of knowing if he has truly reformed, this time.  We’ve heard that song and dance routine before.  And every time it comes back to haunt us.  I don’t know why we should take that gamble again.”

“Of course we shouldn’t, Princess,” Gear Tooth said, eyeing Heartwing with a nervous look.  Rarity pursed her lips.  It seemed like a disingenuous bit of theater, to her.  “There’s one other thing I think we haven’t covered yet.  Heartwing is charged with Regicide, but it’s not just that, is it?  Twilight Sparkle was an alicorn.  Perhaps you might tell us a little about what that means?”

“Alicorns aren’t mortal, though in rare circumstances we can be destroyed, as Twilight was,” Princess Flurry said.  “As tasteless as it may seem to value one life ahead of another, the life that Heartwing ended that day wasn’t a normal, mortal lifetime.  He snuffed out potentially hundreds, maybe thousands of years of life.  What sort of social advancements could have been made, what sort of magical discoveries were lost, when that brilliant voice went silent?  We can’t even begin to measure the cost of the tragedy Heartwing brought upon us.”

It was too much for Rarity.  She was exhausted, and her mind swam in a swamp of confusion and grief.  Twilight Sparkle should have been here.  Twilight Sparkle should have stopped this.  Twilight Sparkle was dead, and nothing anypony ever did would bring Twilight Sparkle back.  She could feel the pain, the utter anguish and loneliness in every single one of Princess Flurry Heart’s words.  The hitch in her voice each time she said her aunt’s name.  She’d felt the same, herself.

Before she realized she was doing it, she had risen to her hooves.  Emberglow turned to stare at her, as did the barrister, Gear Tooth.  Habeus was whispering something at her harshly, motioning with his hooves.  Sound retreated to the background, and for a moment all Rarity could hear was the voice of her friend. 

I don’t blame Discord for what happened.  I blame myself.

She felt a pressure screaming in her head, and suddenly she was pushing her way out of the hall.  Ponies and other creatures cried out at her rudeness, but she ignored the wave of indignant sound.  The stunned looking guards at the door swung them open for her, and she burst into the hallway, gasping for air.

I should have noticed the signs that he wasn’t going to handle the grief well.  I should have been a better friend.

Was that an excuse, even?  Did that mean he should escape consequences for what he did?  Her hooves slammed into the crystal floors as she thundered down the hallway.  Surprised palace staff and startled guards hurried out of her way.  Some called after, checking to see if she was okay, but she ignored them.

I don’t know how I know, but I’m sure he’s involved in whatever efforts there are to fix Equestria, to bring it back to what it should be. 

Was Flurry Heart just going to ignore all that he’d been doing, however misguided, to try and fix things?  Could Rarity keep ignoring it?  She reached the door to her suite, panting for breath as she heaved it open with her hooves.

I know Discord will regret what he’s done, but please don’t let him wallow in it.

Could she afford to forgive him for what he’d done?  Could she afford not to?  She dashed over to the couch, where Emberglow’s in-progress coat was sitting in incomplete pieces scattered about the couch cushions.

Had she lost her way?  Rarity pondered the question as she ran her hoof over the cotton and silk.  There was a time she never would have considered doing any of the things she was doing now.  She would have settled down in Angel’s Rest, opened a boutique, and tried to get on with a normal life.  Now she was making decisions for ponies beyond herself, learning new magic, bumping elbows with royalty, attending trials for regicide.  Deciding the fate of the world.  How could she keep moving forward without losing who she was?

She glanced down at the Twilight construct, where it had fallen after her session with it yesterday.  Talking to Twilight while she’d worked to design the coat had been an eye-opener, to be sure.  Each chant of “That information is not stored in this construct” had drilled home the simple fact: she’d come to rely too much on Twilight’s voice in the last few days to guide what she was doing.  Who she was becoming.  Well, it was time to change that.

I won’t ask you to forgive him.  But please tell him that I forgive him.

Fortunately, Rarity knew just where to start.  She picked up the construct with her magic and marched out the door, back towards the Sunrise Hall.


*   *   *   *   *


“I’m sorry, ma’am.  We can’t let you in until there’s a break in the hearing,” the guards shuffled their hooves awkwardly.  Rarity had planted herself firmly in front of them, demanding entry, but they were standing resolute, despite knowing who she was.

She’d told them.  Repeatedly.

“I’m not quite sure I understand you.  I was allowed to leave, but now I’m not allowed back in?” Rarity demanded.  The guards nodded.

“It’s to avoid disrupting the proceedings.  As soon as there’s a break in the witnesses, you can go right in.”

Well.  That certainly pulled the brakes on her momentum.  Briefly she considered finding a way to shove past them anyways; they were both crystal ponies, no wings nor horns.  She was sure her magic was strong enough now that she could bully her way past them before they could say boo about it.  But there was probably no need for that level of dramatics.  She sighed, and sat down to wait.

“You’re… going to wait right here?”

“I have a message of the utmost importance, good stallions,” Rarity said with a sniff.  “If it must be delayed, it must.  But I shan’t waste a minute longer than I have to.”  She placed the Twilight statue down on the floor in front of her and began to hum a tune to herself; an old song Pinkie had sung once about smiling.

“Uh… I don’t know how long it will be, you’re sure you don’t want to…”

“Good sir, unless the next words out of your mouth are, ‘go right in, Miss Rarity’, I simply can’t be bothered to hear them.”

“Actually,” he said, flinching.  “After… um… your exit, the Princess asked that the doors be shut until the end of today.”

“Oh?  And you thought a lie would dissuade me from entry?” Rarity narrowed her eyes.  “She must have been rather upset.”

The guard gulped nervously.  Rarity didn’t see why.  She wasn’t even trying to be intimidating.

Yet.

“She didn’t want things to be disturbed, again.”

“Well, it’s high time something disturbing happened.  She’s making a mistake, just like I was.  And I’m going inside to let her know as much.”

The guards stood a little more stiffly, crossing their spears over the door.  But Rarity had something else in mind entirely.  Throwing caution to the wind, she had a burst of inspiration from the statue.  She picked it up, charging up her horn a bit for Twilight Sparkle’s own signature spell.

“We can’t…”

“Ta, darlings,” Rarity cooed, then fired the spell.  She’d never tried it before.  It very well could backfire.  She’d only ever thought about it in theory, studying from Twilight’s book and the construct itself.  But when she felt the magic fill her horn, suddenly it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

She wasn’t casting blind; she knew the inside of the Sunrise Hall.  Like the construct had explained, she focused on the destination while simultaneously focusing on the spot where she stood right now.  Reaching out with a bolt of her magic, she drew a line between them, drawing them together like two seams with a suture.  Her magic made the thread, and suddenly two locations became one location, and everything went black.

There was a pop of sound, and a ring in Rarity’s ears, and suddenly everything was bright again.  The room was full of cries of shock and dismay, angry shouts, the clanking of metal.  Everything spun for a few seconds as Rarity reeled on her hooves.  Using all the willpower she could, she demanded that her muscles not fail her, that she not crumple into a dizzy heap.  Slowly the room came into focus, and she looked around herself, to the gaggle of changeling and pony guards that now surrounded her, blades pointed, eyes full of shock and anger.

“I’m sorry about the entrance, darlings, but the guards outside were being simply unreasonable.” Rarity felt a giddy sort of thrill as she spoke, butterflies of nervous excitement filling her gut.  “I apologize as well for my hasty exit.” She turned to face the bemused faces of the King and Queen of the changelings.  “It was rude of me, as was my… hmm… rather sudden entrance.”

“By all rights, we could have you arrested for contempt,” King Pharynx said, though Rarity could see amusement tugging at the edges of his mouth.  “Why shouldn’t we?”

“Because I offer your majesties, and this court, both my humblest apologies, as well as a new witness very relevant to this proceeding hearing.  If you would allow it, I can show you what I mean.”

“Your majesties,” Habeus spoke up, and Rarity glanced at him, giving him a winning smile.  He looked skeptical, but hopeful.  “I was just finishing up with this witness.  I have no objection.”

“Your majesties, Princess Flurry has asked to close these proceedings for the rest of the day, and you granted her request.  To rescind it now would be disruptive.”  Gear Tooth’s voice cut through the excited, murmuring crowd, and Rarity had to resist the impulse to stick her tongue out at him.

Instead, she met eyes with Flurry Heart.  The princess was staring at the construct she had clutched in her hooves.  Rarity could see a million questions in her eyes.  She let the sounds of all the other ponies fade away and she tried to reach deep into the heart of just one pony.

“Please listen,” she whispered.  “You will regret it if you do not.”

They stared at each other for an eternity, eyes meeting over the noise of the courtroom.  The princess gazed down at the unicorn. One pony fearful and uncertain, the other confident and strong.

The princess blinked.

“Do what you will,” Princess Flurry whispered.  Then, more loudly: “Guards, stand down.  Her dramatic entrance aside, Rarity has as much right to be here as anypony.  She was also very much a victim in this, if not more so than myself.”

“Thank you, dear,” Rarity said, feeling a touch of affection for the Princess and her admission.  “You won’t be sorry.”

The guards backed slowly away from her, and Rarity took a second to take in what else was happening.  Terminus stood in front of the changeling leaders, probably mid-testimony when Rarity’s teleportation had interrupted things.  He gave her a worried look.

“Should I step back?” he asked nervously at Habeus.  Habeus looked at the King and Queen, who in turn looked to Princess Flurry.

“Let’s see what this surprise witness has to say,” the princess said.  “I have no objections.”  Her barristers shrugged.

“Very well.  Terminus, you may step back, though, with your majesties’ permission, I would like to beg leave to call him again at a later date if I have to.”

“Granted,” King Pharynx said.  Rarity saw the grin he’d been threatening earlier had burst out.  He looked curious and intense.  “Now.  Who is this witness of yours?”

“I have in my hooves a construct, built by Twilight Sparkle herself,” Rarity said.  She set the construct down on the floor, before the King and Queen.  “It is, in most respects, her final words.  She created the construct to help the ponies who walked in her wake to try and fix everything that had gone wrong with the world.  And she has a message that I believe is relevant.  Twilight?  Would you please play your final thoughts about Heartwing?  I mean, Discord.”

The construct came to life, it’s mouth opening, and Twilight began to speak.

“I don’t blame Discord for what happened,” she began.  Twilight’s voice sounded resigned, full of regret and failure.  It wasn’t the first time Rarity had heard the message, but she still wished she could have been there to comfort her.  To tell her it was okay, that Rarity would fix things for her.  “I blame myself.

“I should have seen what was happening.  I should have seen the panic in his eyes as Fluttershy faded.  I should have noticed the signs that he wasn’t going to handle the grief well.  I should have been a better friend.”

That part stung.  Rarity saw it now, and she met Heartwing’s eyes.  Could she apologize with a look?  She’d have to use words later, but now, the best she could do was meet his silent gaze.  He smiled, a look full of warmth and love and forgiveness, and tears sprang to her eyes.

“Instead, I was too caught up in what I was discovering.” Wasn’t that a lovely accusation?  But now wasn’t the time for Rarity’s guilt.  “I found hints of a conspiracy to eat away at the Harmony magic that envelops Equestria.  I thought this would be the most important thing for me to focus my time on.  How could I have been so blind?  I’m the Princess of Friendship, for Celestia’s sake, not the Princess of Finding Out About Conspiracies.  In the end, it’s going to cost us both everything.”  Not if I can help it, Twilight, Rarity thought.

“Discord snapped when Fluttershy died.  In retrospect, it makes perfect sense.  This is the first time Discord has had to deal with real loss and grief.  Before, he didn’t make friends, so he didn’t care when ponies died.  Can you imagine living for thousands of years, never experiencing grief or loss that way?  He was completely unprepared for the emotion, and it broke him.

“Whichever one of you is seeing this message, if it’s Sunset, Starlight, or Rarity, please be patient with him.  I don’t know how I know, but I’m sure he’s involved in whatever efforts there are to fix Equestria, to bring it back to what it should be.”  Rarity hoped that Flurry wouldn’t blame herself too hard, but they’d both fallen into the same trap, in a way.  Neither one wanted to see what Heartwing was doing; they’d both been too caught up in what he’d done.  “I’ve caught glimpses, brief impressions of the future. I don’t know where this prescience comes from, but I trust it.  I know Discord will regret what he’s done, but please don’t let him wallow in it.  I won’t ask you to forgive him.  But please tell him that I forgive him.”

“Princess Twilight forgave Heartwing,” Rarity said into the silence that followed.  “It’s about time that I do too.  Whatever else happens, I forgive you, darling.  And I beg for your friendship again.”

“You have it, Rarity.”  The smile they shared would have made the Princess of Friendship proud, Rarity thought.

After their conversation, nopony made a sound.  The silence was thick, as if everypony was too afraid to be the first to break it.  And then Rarity heard a sob.

“C-can I…” Flurry Heart gasped.  “Can I have a recess?  Please?”

Queen Chrysalis and King Pharynx were barely able to nod before Princess Flurry’s horn lit, and with a pop of energy she disappeared from the room.  Everypony gaped at the spot she’d just vacated.  Within seconds, the gossip and chatter began anew, growing in volume until the entire room was alive with voices.   Confused, excited, speculative; the cacophony threatened to overwhelm her.  But then she felt a hoof at her shoulder.

“Habeus says they’ll be recessing until tomorrow,” Emberglow whispered in her ear.  “We have some time.  Come with me, please?”  Rarity gave a nod, and Emberglow pushed forward through the crowd.  The guards finally noticed that they were trying to leave, and graciously made a space through the gallery so the two of them could make it to the doors.

Once they were outside the courtroom, the two guards glared angrily at Rarity.  She simply smiled and waved, then turned to Emberglow.  “What can I do for you, darling?”

“C-can we talk?  In private?” Emberglow stammered.  There was a nervous glow to her cheeks, and her limbs trembled.  Rarity couldn’t tell why.

“Of course.  My room?”

“Sure,” Emberglow managed, then spun, practically dashing down the hallway.  Rarity had to nearly jog to keep up.  Briefly she wondered if she could teleport in front of the more athletic mare, but she decided not to push it.  One flashy teleportation entrance a day was probably enough; she could feel the strain in her head, a light sort of pressure that she was certain could become a crushing headache if she pushed herself too hard.

Emberglow was silent as they practically ran to Rarity’s suite.  She stopped when she got there, waiting by the door for Rarity to catch up.  Emberglow’s eye was bright, alight with a fire that Rarity found hard to interpret.  She stepped up and opened the door with a brief flick of her telekinesis.

“Come on in, darling,” Rarity said.  At the last second she remembered the pieces of Emberglow’s gift-in-progress were still spread out over the couch.  Oh well, it was too late now.  If she saw, hopefully she wouldn’t understand what it was.  She stepped into the room, gesturing invitingly with one hoof.

Emberglow closed the door gently behind her.  “You meant it.  Every word.  Everything you did,” Emberglow breathed out, her voice barely loud enough to be heard.  It wasn’t a question.

“You’re the Element of Honesty, darling.  What do you think?” Rarity said, smiling.  Emberglow’s good eye searched Rarity’s face.  Her hooves were shaking, her lips worked soundlessly, like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out.  “Really, Emberglow.  What—”

There was no warning.  Emberglow pressed her lips against Rarity’s, so quickly Rarity let out a small squeak before melting into the passionate embrace. 

Emberglow was almost aggressive, leaning against Rarity as they both let out little hungry moans.  She kissed with all the passion of the inexperienced, fumbling and clumsy and eager.  They kissed until they were both breathless, and Rarity felt herself getting a little lightheaded.



Oh goodness, am I about to literally swoon?



Rarity raised her hoof, ready to caress the side of Emberglow’s face when Emberglow suddenly jerked back, breathing hard. 

“I’m sorry!  I’m so sorry!  It’s like I couldn’t help myself!  I saw you, teleporting into the courtroom like that with your horn glowing and your mane all perfectly mussed from your running and then you said all of those things and I wasn’t even sure what side you were going to end up on but you said all those things and it was so perfect and brave and you were just so hot in that moment that I just had to…”

“D-darling, please,” Rarity was giggling.  “Take a moment to breathe.  If you pass out, you can’t kiss me more.”

“M-more?”

“Or,” Rarity leaned in, actually running her hoof along the soft fur of Emberglow’s cheek.  Emberglow shivered slightly.  “You could just keep telling me how hot I was.  A lady loves to be complimented.”

“You’re gorgeous, Rarity,” Emberglow breathed, their noses closing until they touched.  Emberglow’s mouth was barely moving.  “But more than that.  You’re confident, and smart, and so graceful…”

“Enough compliments,” Rarity whispered, and closed the last bit of space between their lips again. Emberglow was so soft as they kissed, soft as Rarity stroked her mane, touching her.  She was soft when her wings swept around, tickling and caressing at Rarity’s sides.  Even when Rarity could feel the hard muscles underneath Emberglow’s fur, her hooves were still so careful in their ministrations.  The kiss broke, and Rarity buried her nose in Emberglow’s mane, breathing in her scent.

“Th-they called a recess for the trial, right?” Emberglow said tentatively.  “So we have nowhere to be for the rest of the day?”

“Oh, I love the way you think,” Rarity purred, gently pushing Emberglow back towards the bedroom.
> Chapter 54
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 54


Secret communique found and seized by Imperial Guards during the search of the Diarchy Embassy.  Document was partially destroyed by fire before the guards could rescue it from the hearth.



…formula is incomplete, so it is only to be used in a worst-case scenario.  Brightblade and Joyful Noise are both working on a more refined version of the formula.

…retains its potency in liquid form for up to a month, but once it dries on a weapon it will…

…no idea how effective it will be.  I hope you never have cause to…

…if the worst should happen, then I would like a full…

…berglow and Rarity, as well as the head of the Discordant are…

…ay safe, Ambassador.  Our prayers are with you.



Signed,

…dfast Word

Crystal Empire, 1113 AD

Rarity’s sleep was dreamless, but she did remember one thing.  In the haze that floated through her mind just before the rays of sunlight poked through the windows, she could hear Topaz Glitter’s voice drifting within her dream.

“I’ll leave you two alone for now.  Well done, the both of you.  But remember, Rarity, where she came from.  What she came from.  Stay close to her all day, hmm?  Because the next little bit is going to be hard, and I want you there to remind her of what she has now.”

Rarity fluttered her eyes open as the fog of sleep slowly peeled back from her mind.  She didn’t open her eyes at first, instead just feeling each signal her body was sending her.

She was a little sore, but the good kind of sore from exercise and effort and body-wracking pleasure.  Had sex always been like this?  On the one hoof, she wondered why she’d held off so long.  On the other hoof, to have her first time being here, like this, with her…

She could feel Emberglow’s hooves wrapped around her.  Rarity was the little spoon to her big, and her lover’s sleeping breaths tickled at her ear and cheek.  She nestled back against the warmth of Emberglow’s slightly larger body, making her stir a bit.

Rarity clutched the hoof draped over her shoulder a little more tightly and inhaled deeply.  She could still smell what they’d gotten up to the previous evening (and well into the night).  But the whole room smelled like Emberglow; clean sweat and floral soap, and something more, something that made her remember everything that had happened before they slipped into sleep, tangled in an exhausted and passionate embrace.

Suddenly she felt the figure behind her stiffen, and Rarity rolled over so she could be facing Emberglow, yet still between her hooves.  She waited, smiling, while Emberglow’s eyes slipped open.  She blinked twice, her one good eye hazy a bit before it came into focus, and a shy, tremulous smile poked its way onto her muzzle.

“G-good morning,” Emberglow stammered nervously.  Rarity leaned forward and kissed her soundly.

“Mm, you too, darling,” Rarity said.  “Last night was…” Rarity prided herself on her articulation, her linguistic elegance and flair.  But she felt overwhelmed in the best sort of way, and the words wouldn’t come.  “Last night was wow.”

“Yeah,” Emberglow giggled.  “Wow.”

They fell quiet as Rarity gently nuzzled against Emberglow’s neck, feeling warm and safe as Emberglow pulled them closer with her hooves and wings.  Emberglow’s soft feathery blanket was better than any sheet or comforter Rarity had ever felt.

“So, if you don’t mind my asking,” Emberglow began carefully.  “What changed your mind?”

“About Heartwing, darling?” It was a subject she would have shied away from yesterday.  Now, encircled in a loving cocoon of feathers, she could talk about anything.  “It was you.  And Cadance, as well.  I realized a lot of things…” She took a deep breath.  “But I think, maybe the main reason was that I was letting my anger at what he’d done change me, and I didn’t like it.  It was getting in the way of who I wanted to be, and what I wanted.  So I needed to let it go.”

“What you wanted?” Emberglow asked. 

Rarity pulled back to look into Emberglow’s good eye.  “You.”

“Oh,” Emberglow said in a small, pleased voice.  Her cheeks were flushed, and Rarity had to just lean forward and kiss them both, prompting a giggle.  “Um, we can’t stay in bed all day, can we?”

“Hmm…” Rarity tapped her chin thoughtfully, then smiled, her grin predatory and her eyes half lidded.  She rolled so she was on top of Emberglow, the motion quick enough to make the pegasus squeak in surprise.  “Not all day, no.  But we don’t have anywhere to be until after lunch time, so…”

Emberglow’s only response was a sigh of pleasure as Rarity leaned down to kiss her again.


*   *   *   *   *


When a sense of responsibility and certain unladylike biological urges finally forced them to get out of bed, Rarity was pleasantly surprised to find a tray in the sitting room, just outside the bedroom.  It was piled with fresh fruit, small breads, and some kind of spread for brunch, as well as a note from the servants to call if any more was required.  There was a second note next to the first, in a quick, inelegant scrawl.

You two enjoy your morning.  If you need anything we’ll be in the Sunrise Hall.  Remember, the hearing continues after lunch, so don’t get too distracted!

It was finished with a smiley face drawing, and signed ‘Topaz’.

“Food?”  There was a different kind of hunger in Emberglow’s voice as the mare walked up behind Rarity.  She smiled and looked over as Emberglow tentatively poked her head into the sitting room.  Rarity noticed she’d somehow found and slipped into a dressing gown.  She held back an amused laugh; Emberglow was still so shy and nervous about nudity, even after what they’d done. Multiple times. It was cute, in an innocent sort of way.

Emberglow walked up next to Rarity, and after a moment of hesitation reached a wing out to stretch around her.  Rarity hummed in delight and leaned into the hug.

“I could get used to this,” she said, her voice filled with awe.  Rarity agreed, nuzzling her cheek before slipping out of the embrace.

“Come, let’s cuddle up on the love seat and partake of this nice brunch they were so kind to provide for us.  Then we can take a long shower together before we have to get ready for the hearing.”

“Okay.”  Emberglow sat on the small couch, extending a wing so she could wrap it around Rarity as soon as she sat.  She noticed Rarity looking and blushed.  “What?  You seem to like it when I… um… so I thought…”

Rarity quieted her nervousness by slipping into the welcome space, pecking Emberglow on the cheek.  “I do like it.  I could get used to this, too.”

“Um.  Good.” Emberglow gave an uncharacteristic little giggle.

They began to eat the brunch prepared for them. The spread turned out to be a delightfully fluffy strawberry type that Rarity found delicious.  They ate mostly in silence, reveling in the physical closeness and the warmth they shared.

“Um,” Emberglow spoke barely above a whisper.  “What are we, exactly, now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are we c-courting?  Or dating?  Or, uh…”

“You can use whatever words you like, darling,” Rarity said kindly.  “I would like to call you my marefriend, though, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all!” Emberglow practically squeaked.  “That’s… that’s nice.  Very nice.”  Rarity felt Emberglow squeeze her with her wing.

After brunch, they took a shower, discovering together that certain things they’d gotten up to all last night and partially in the morning could, with time, effort, and patience, also be done in a shower as well.  There was a risk of running out of hot water, though, as well as copious amounts of giggling awkwardness.  Both mares determined that this was worth it, however.

A sort of bright giddiness suffused them when they got out.  Emberglow was flush and nervous, but Rarity treasured each sideways glance, each shy, tentative smile, each careful touch.  It was as if she didn’t think Rarity was real, and had to keep feeling her to make sure she was still there.  Rarity didn’t mind at all; she leaned into each caress to make the most out of it.

“Care to help me pick my outfit?” Rarity asked as she sashayed out of the bathroom, reveling in the way Emberglow’s wide eye was glued on her.  Emberglow nodded wordlessly.

For being so seemingly uninterested in dressing herself up, Emberglow seemed to know what she was talking about when it came to clothing.  Rarity was impressed with the way she understood complementary colors, the importance of a good accent, and even how different outfits could communicate. 

In the end, Emberglow suggested a formal gown that they both found in Rarity’s closet; one of several outfits provided by the Princess’ generosity.   It was a thick velvet, so dark blue it was nearly black.  Rarity loved the feel of the soft fabric sliding over her fur, though when she said so with a coy smirk Emberglow looked like she was about to turn redder than her namesake.

“And what shall you be wearing, darling?” Rarity asked.  “I’m sure the princess has stocked your wardrobe as well.”

“She has,” Emberglow said with a small smile.  “I… I think I’d like to keep wearing my robes, if that’s okay.”  Rarity leaned in close, and Emberglow blushed, turning as if to hide her face.

“Darling?” Rarity couldn’t help but smile back.  “You don’t need to look so embarrassed.  What’s on your mind?  You can share anything with me.”  She felt her own cheeks heat up.  “We’re a bit past the point of keeping secrets from each other, don’t you think?”

“Um.  Okay,” Emberglow took a deep breath, and gave a giddy little giggle.  “It’s just a silly thought I had.  Me wearing your cutie mark.  It has a bit of a different context now, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does.” Rarity smirked.  “Though it’s hardly fair.  I shall have to come up with something with your cutie mark on it, just so that we can be even.”

Emberglow’s return smile told Rarity just how much her marefriend liked that idea.

Between the flirting, spontaneous cuddles, and general silliness, it was nearly lunch by the time the two of them finally finished getting dressed and ready to leave Rarity’s suite.

“I wonder what our friends are up to?” Rarity mused.  “Probably eating.  Shall we go say hello?  And we should also decide what we want to tell them.  You know, about us.”

“Sure,” Emberglow said, closing the door behind them.  There was something a little off in her voice, but Emberglow looked away.

“Darling, is something wrong?  You can tell me anything, you know.”

“Nothing.  It’s just…” Emberglow fell silent, looking forward down the hallway as they trotted side by side.  Rarity moved so that their flanks were almost touching, swishing her tail to brush gently against Emberglow’s own.  Emberglow looked at her in surprise.  “Um.  Promise you won’t think I’m crazy?”

Rarity patted her on the shoulder with a little laugh.  “Nothing would make me think that.  After all the things you’ve been through, darling?  You’re one of the strongest ponies I know.”  That didn’t feel right, and Rarity cleared her throat before trying again.  “What I mean is, if we’re together, you don’t have to be strong on your own anymore.  We can be strong together.  But only if you share your troubles with me.”

“Okay,” Emberglow breathed as they walked.  “Okay.  Give me a moment.”

They continued down the halls in silence, heading towards the private dining room Princess Flurry Heart had designated for their use during mealtimes, when they weren’t eating in their suites.

The halls were not empty; palace staff and dignitaries, guards and guests all moved back and forth around them.  Emberglow even moved protectively in front of Rarity when three Diarchy marines, probably from the embassy and here for the hearing, passed down the hallway.  They gave Emberglow a wicked sort of sneer as they passed, but she ignored them, and they said nothing.

“You can relax, darling.  They were unarmed.”

“I just don’t feel like you’re safe around them,” Emberglow muttered, sotto voce.  “They’d try to hurt you if they could.”

“I know that, darling.  But they can’t.  We’re safe here in the Crystal Palace.  They wouldn’t dare try anything; Flurry Heart would eject their embassy in a heartbeat.”

“I’m not taking risks when it comes to your safety,” Emberglow whispered back, with a sort of iron in her voice that made Rarity’s stomach all fluttery.  She resisted the urge to sigh dramatically, instead leaning over to nuzzle against the taller mare.

“So you’re to be my bodyguard, then?  My valiant defender?”  Rarity was teasing, but the fantasy of the idea appealed to her.  She was already enamored with Emberglow’s poise, her athletic figure, her instinct to leap into danger to protect those around her.

“Always,” Emberglow said, in a voice that sent shivers down Rarity’s spine.

“W-we’re getting off the subject, dear.” Rarity felt sorely tempted to drag Emberglow to some empty alcove and kiss her senseless.  Perhaps it would be best to change topics.  Besides, she really did want to get to the heart of what was troubling Emberglow.

“I… I really am stalling, aren’t I?” Emberglow admitted.  Rarity nodded, and after a sudden burst of inspiration, leaned over just enough so that they were touching at the sides as they walked.  “Thanks.  I need…” she took a deep breath, and began in a harsh whisper.

“I’m a mess, Rarity.  In my own head, I mean.  The stupidest, most innocent comments set off these voices in my head.  Voices of ponies who’ve passed, telling me I’m a hypocrite for being happy, telling me I’m a coward, I’m useless, I’m guilty of something.  And just now, when you were talking about telling our friends we’re together?  All I could hear was the voice of…” Emberglow gulped.  “… the voice of a dead pony I know reminding me to think about what my parents would say, and how disappointed they’d be if they knew…”

She trailed off into silence, head and shoulders slumped.  Rarity pondered for a moment.  What was she to say?  What could she say?  She was no stranger to personal guilt, but she knew that what Emberglow felt was on another level. 

Stay close to her, okay?  That’s what Topaz had said, though they were already as close as two ponies could be while still walking down a palace hallway.  So she stopped, holding Emberglow back and moving to the side of the passage, out of the way.

“I…” she began, her mind still fumbling about for the right thing to say.  Emberglow’s good eye was large and nervous, watching Rarity intently.  “I don’t know what to say,” Rarity said finally, in a rush of breath.  “But what I can do is be there for you to lean on, okay?  Don’t hide these feelings inside.  Tell me about them.”  She leaned forward giving Emberglow a tiny peck on her cheek.  “And when it comes time to tell your parents, if you do, I’ll be right there with you.”

“Y-you will?”

“I will.  And while I don’t know what will happen,” Rarity hoped for the best, but she’d never met Emberglow’s parents, “I do know that anypony who could raise somepony as wonderful as you would never be disappointed in their caring, brave, strong, beautiful daughter.” 

Her flowery compliment had the desired effect, which was to tease a little smile out of Emberglow.  “I’m still going to worry about it, though.  They were raised the same way I was, and they don’t know the Diarchy’s all a lie, yet.”

“Then you and I shall have to tell them!” Rarity insisted.  “And have faith, and hope for the best.”  Rarity narrowed her eyes, staring at Emberglow and ignoring the bustle along the hallway to their side.  “But I would like a promise from you, darling.  Whenever you hear those awful little voices in your head, you’ll let me know?  You don’t have to tell me what they’re saying if you don’t want to, just tell me when you’re struggling.  So I can give you all the support and cuddles that you so richly deserve.”

“I promise,” Emberglow said solemnly, though her eyes shined with amusement.  “I’ll let you know.”

“Good.”  Rarity nodded firmly.  “Let’s go meet our friends.”  She paused.  “We never did decide on what we were going to tell them, did we?”

“I want them to know,” Emberglow said, a smile tugging at her muzzle.  “They’re definitely going to tease us, though.  Especially Heartwing and Lofty.”

“Let them tease!” Rarity tossed her mane dramatically.  “I’m far too happy to care!”

Both mares giggled, and Rarity trotted off down the hall with Emberglow following closely.


*   *   *   *   *


Their prediction about teasing proved prescient.  As soon as Rarity’s magic pulled the door open to the private dining hall, everypony else was already there, including Heartwing.  Everypony looked up as Rarity and Emberglow entered, pausing in the act of eating lunch.  Topaz looked giddy, and Terminus proud.  Lofty appeared to be holding back laughter.  The only pony who didn’t appear to have noticed their arrival was True, who seemed tightly focused on disassembling the peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the plate before him.

And Heartwing began to clap, slow, overexaggerated sounds that filled the suddenly silent dining room.  Until that sound was joined by the dull thud of a wooden spoon whacking him on the back of the head.

“Be nice,” Terminus said, while Heartwing pouted at him.

“I was being nice!  I was congratulating them!” Heartwing protested, and Lofty snickered.

“You’re teasing, you scoundrel,” Terminus tried to scowl, though he was grinning.

“Oh, let him tease, darling,” Rarity announced.  “Since clearly everypony already knows.  I’m curious as to how, though.”

“It wasn’t exactly subtle the way Emberglow practically dragged you out of the courtroom, Rarity,” Heartwing said with a smirk.  “I’m told your dramatic exit has become quite the subject for gossip among the castle staff and Princess Flurry’s courtiers.”

“Well, since you all seem to have spoiled our big announcement,” Rarity mock-pouted, “I suppose it shall come as no surprise that Emberglow and I are lovers, now.”

“Cheers!” Topaz cried out gleefully, practically bouncing in her seat.  “Congratulations, you two!”

This time the applause was genuine, and everypony joined in, even True, splashing bits of peanut butter on his father, who didn’t seem to mind in the slightest as he casually leaned over and did some triage with a napkin.

“They’re going to have to rewrite the Book of the Saints, I suppose,” Heartwing mused.  “Especially the bits about Rarity being the Etern…” He was cut off as Terminus quickly shoved a roll into his mouth.

“Thank you, darling,” Rarity said with a smile and a nod in Terminus’ direction.  “But now that our good news is out of the way, I couldn’t help but notice that Heartwing is out of his cell.”

“Sit down, have some food, and we’ll tell you about that,” Terminus said with an inviting wave of his hoof.  Rarity was about to take her chair, but it slid out for her.  She glanced at Emberglow, who was grinning and flushed.

“Why thank you!” she cooed as Emberglow slid the chair into the table.  She pointedly ignored Heartwing’s snickers as Emberglow took the seat next to her.

In front of them was a buffet of lunch foods, from fresh vegetables to savory pastries and an array of berries.  There were even a pair of teapots with steam wafting from the openings, complete with mugs next to each place setting.  Rarity wasn’t too hungry from their late brunch, though she selected a few things to be polite, and began to munch daintily on some carrot sticks while Terminus spoke.

“It’s because of your speech yesterday, Rarity.  It made quite an impression.  Princess Flurry, in particular, looked very troubled as she left.

“This morning, she came to the prison cell,” he continued. Terminus and Heartwing shared a look.  “I… I don’t think she’s quite ready to forgive him just yet.  But something changed yesterday, and she’s trying.  She offered Heartwing a deal.”

“A deal?” Rarity made sure to swallow first.  A lady never speaks with her mouth full, after all.

“Yeah,” Heartwing chimed in, spraying crumbs from the roll he was chewing onto the table.  “We still don’t know what the King and Queen’s verdict will be, but assuming they were just as moved by Rarity’s speech, the princess and I wanted to start negotiating what might happen next.  With the Discordant, and me, and some sort of mission to New Canterlot City to retrieve the Element of Magic.”

“At least you’re speaking with her.”  Rarity paused, glancing around the table until she found one of the steaming pots of tea.  She floated it over to her and inhaled, taking in the strong scent of lemon and bergamot.  With a pleased little noise, she filled a mug with the wonderful smelling brew.  “What sort of plans do you think are likely to form?”

Heartwing sighed.  “I’m not sure.  But we need to find a way to retrieve the Element from the Diarchy.  As Flurry Heart has been so kind to remind me, several times, she disapproves of my choice to use violence against them.  But I don’t see how there’s any other way.  We’re going to have to mount some sort of assault on the capital if we’re going to get the Element back.”

“And then what?” Rarity had to ask.  “In the past, when we used the Elements before, there was always some big target to point them at.  Nightmare Moon, Tirek,” she paused.  “You.”  Heartwing merely smirked and gave a little bow.  “It’s not as if you can use the elements to fix an entire culture.  And the creature that started all of this?  That ‘Adagio Dazzle’ individual?  She seems to be long gone.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Heartwing said.  “I’ve been fighting the Diarchy my way for three hundred years.  I’d like to think I’ve accomplished something; made it possible for some ponies to live free and happy.  But you’re right; there’s not a single pony or monster that we can just rainbow blast into friendship like before.  So why did the Tree reach out to us now, and not when I began my war?”

“Maybe the right ponies simply weren’t born yet?” Rarity gave a smile to the assembled Elements.  Emberglow blushed, and Terminus looked away nervously, but Topaz smiled back at her and Lofty looked a little proud.  Heartwing was shaking his head.

“I don’t think that’s it.  I think something’s coming; the Tree instructed us to restore Harmony, and to restore the Alicorns.  I think we were meant to find Sunset Shimmer, and I think we're also meant to reconnect the Empire with the Diarchy.  But that’s not all.  The Diarchy is going through the coldest winter it has ever experienced before, and I think it’s got something to do with the lack of harmony.”

“We spoke of this before,” Rarity noted.  “The Windigoes.”

“Exactly.”  Heartwing tapped his cup with one hoof as he thought.  “I’ve had a horrifying idea.  The Diarchy has been out of balance for centuries; no harmony between the pony races, no Elements, no alicorns.  Shouldn’t it have been turned into a Windigo playground, chock full of pony-icicles centuries ago?”

“No need to be macabre, darling,” Rarity shuddered.  “You have a point, I assume?”

“What if…” he shuddered.  “What if Adagio and Tirek and Cozy made some sort of arrangement with the Windigoes?  And it’s now expiring?  Because they are coming back.”

“That would mean the Tree wanted us to find the Elements in order to save the Diarchy?” Terminus added, his face twisted with distaste.  Lofty and Emberglow also looked ill at the idea.

“Not the Diarchy itself, but the innocent ponies who live and suffer there,” Heartwing said.

Rarity felt the familiar rush of inspiration, that moment of joy where things click into place.  “Oh!  So you’re saying the Tree brought back the Elements not to banish some monolithic foe, but rather to guide and inspire the citizens of the Diarchy to push back the Windigoes themselves!”  She felt excited as she looked around at the faces staring at her.  “That has to be it!  That’s why the Elements chose ponies the way they did!  Each of you, coming from different walks of life.”  She stood up; she couldn’t help herself.

“Think about it!” She was nearly shaking in her excitement at her epiphany.  “Some of you grew up in the Diarchy, were molded by it.”  She looked at Lofty and Emberglow.  “Some of you have an outsider’s perspective.”  Topaz grinned, bouncing in her seat, while Heartwing nodded.  “Terminus, you left when you were young, so you have a perspective all your own.  Don’t you see?  All of you are to be the beacon that leads the Diarchy to fix itself!”

There was a moment of silence following her speech, and Heartwing coughed nervously into his hoof.  “Um, Rarity?  Perhaps you shouldn’t put ponies up so high on a pedestal?  We’re just five normal ponies.”

“Normal?” Terminus whispered, raising an eyebrow at his coltfriend, who smirked.

“Normal-ish.  You know what I mean.  It’s…”

He never got to finish what he was going to say.  The doors to the dining room opened to reveal a squad of Empire guards.  Rarity recognized Sergeant Lockstep, looking much less antagonistic than their last encounter.

“It is time for the final hearing,” he said calmly.  “We’re here to escort you to the Sunrise Hall.”

“So it is to be chains again?” Heartwing drawled, while Terminus bristled beside him.

“No,” the sergeant shook his head.  “We are here for your protection, Sir Heartwing.  Princess Flurry has told us that no chains will be necessary.”

“Thank you,” Heartwing replied.  Everypony stood, with Lofty and Topaz pausing long enough to address the explosive peanut butter situation on True’s muzzle.

“Lofty and I will escort this handsome young colt to his afternoon tutor, then catch up with you all in the audience hall,” Topaz offered, and Lofty nodded.


*   *   *   *   *


The walk to the Sunrise Hall had Rarity in high spirits.  Perhaps it was partially because of the mare walking alongside her, bumping flanks every so often, or even leaning over for a quick, shy nuzzle.  It didn’t hurt that every time Rarity looked over Emberglow was blushing cutely from the teasing smirks and gentle ribbing coming from Lofty and Heartwing.

It was more than that, though; Rarity felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.  Before, she’d been sure she could never have considered forgiving Heartwing for what he had done.  Thinking about what he had caused still stung, but it was a dull pain, distant and muffled behind who he was now.

“Heartwing, darling,” she began, with a sudden burst of inspiration.  “Do you know what happened to the Twilight construct after my departure yesterday?”

“You mean, after Emberglow dragged you from the courtroom to ravish you?” he quipped.  

Emberglow stumbled with a surprised snort. “Th-that’s…” Emberglow began, stammering.

“Yes, after that,” Rarity felt her own cheeks warming.  She leaned towards Emberglow.  “If you act all cute and embarrassed every time he prods you like that, you’re just going to egg him on more.  Not that I mind.  You blush rather nicely.”

“In answer to your question,” Heartwing pushed forward as Emberglow sputtered.  “Princess Flurry took it with her.”

“I think I’ll let her keep it.  Twilight was her aunt, after all.” Rarity mused before putting voice to her own idea.  Her own feelings towards Heartwing were clearer than they had been in weeks, but she still hesitated for a moment. “I shall need a new magic tutor, though, and I believe I’ll respond better to a more practical trainer than recorded messages, even if they’re from Princess Twilight.  Heartwing, do you think you could teach me?”

“I would be honored,” Heartwing said after a short pause.  Rarity searched his face for any hint of mischief or teasing, then nodded when she found none.

“Thank you, darling.  Though I suppose we’ll have to wait to see the outcome of today’s hearing before we schedule my first lesson.”

“Agreed.”

When they approached the front doors of the Sunrise Hall, it became abundantly clear to Rarity exactly why they’d needed a guard escort today.  The hallway was packed with ponies and other creatures; many carried notepads or cameras, and to one side there was even a cadre of unicorns setting up some sort of broadcasting equipment.  The crowd buzzed with energy as they waited for the doors to open.

Then one of the creatures present, a pink and orange changeling mare buzzing just above the crowd, happened to look behind her to see Rarity and her friends’ approach.  Her eyes lit up and she swooped down to intercept them, raising the camera she had strapped around her neck.  Several other reporters noticed the movement as Sergeant Lockstep and his soldiers closed in around the group in a protective shell.

A barrage of flashbulbs and hastily shouted questions rained around Rarity and her friends as the guards jostled them towards the door.  It was nearly impossible to single out the shouting individuals in the crowd, but Rarity heard the questions anyway.

“Sir Heartwing, is it true that you and the Princess have been meeting to discuss a deal?”

“Rarity, Miss Rarity.  Are you really the Rarity of legend?  How did you come to be here?”

“Rarity, tell us about your exit after yesterday’s hearing.”

“Sir Heartwing, are the Discordant going to be dissolved?”

“Where is Duchess Topaz?”

“Miss Rarity, are you dating the mare at your side?”

Despite the flurry of questions, the crowd of reporters parted politely enough when the guards began pushing towards the door.  “These ponies have no comment at this time,” Sergeant Lockstep said, repeating it over and over as they managed their way forward.  Several guards with crossed spears stood watch at the Sunrise Hall doors themselves, waiting until the sergeant had made it to open them.

Something about the rote response didn’t sit quite right from Rarity, though, so she paused and turned to the reporters as the guards opened the door.  “Thank you, sergeant, but all the same I believe I can speak for myself,” she said to him.  The reporters renewed their assault, this time focusing exclusively on Rarity with their barrage of queries.  She cleared her throat, raised an eyebrow, and waited.

It took a few seconds for the press ponies to get the idea, quieting down.  The camera flashes continued unabated, but Rarity didn’t mind in the slightest.

In fact, it felt fabulous.

“I’m sorry that I won’t be able to answer all your questions today, darlings,” Rarity began, tossing her mane and smiling at the assembled creatures.  “The hearing is still ongoing, and I’m sure you’ll be able to pick up all the details yourself.  But I think I can clear up some questions about me and my relationships.”  She spared a side glance at Emberglow.  Maybe she should have asked about this first?  But Emberglow was smiling at her, even as she stood protectively at Rarity’s side.

“This mare, as some of you already know, is Lady Emberglow of the Discordant.  And as of this morning, yes, we are indeed dating.  She’s a sweet, brave, wonderful mare and I’m lucky to have her.”

Apparently that was all the patience the reporters had; as soon as she was done speaking they began peppering her with questions again.  But Rarity merely bowed to the crowd, turned with a swish of her tail, and followed her friends and an impatient-looking Sergeant into the Sunrise Hall.  There was a bounce in her step as she did so, a prance of joy, but in that moment Rarity wished it could be more.

Prance?  She’d just announced to the world that she was in love.  She wanted to dance.

“I really should have warned you,” she whispered to Emberglow as the doors closed behind them.  The courtroom was much quieter, but it still buzzed with a more subdued version of the same energy that had electrified the creatures outside.  The King and Queen were not in their thrones, but Princess Flurry sat with the prosecuting lawyers, watching them arrive with an amused look on her face.  “That was a little impulsive of me, wasn’t it?”

“N-no, that was fine,” Emberglow said, her voice trembling with nervous energy.  “You only just gushed about me to a hundred reporters.”  She didn’t sound too disappointed.

“Something this marvelous needs to be shouted from the rooftops, darling.”  The comment earned Rarity a laugh and a kiss on the cheek, which she accepted eagerly.

It was then that Rarity heard a noise, somewhere between a disgusted and dismayed growl.  She glanced up to lock eyes with the turquoise-colored mare, still dressed in the offensive pink robes that bore Pinkie’s cutie mark.  The Diarchy ambassador looked both furious and sickened, eyes blazing as she stared at Rarity.  The soldiers surrounding her also looked disapproving and angry.  Rarity had to fight the urge to stick her tongue out at them; instead, she wrapped a hoof around Emberglow and squeezed her tight.  Emberglow hesitated, glancing over at them in the crowd.

“Ignore that,” Rarity said dismissively, guiding Emberglow with her hoof to where Habeus sat at the table.  Emberglow nodded and the two of them sat down together to wait for the King and Queen.  “Hmm.  They do like to make an entrance, don’t they?  I wonder if all royalty receives some sort of primer on making other ponies wait the moment they receive their titles.”

The joke had the effect Rarity wanted; Emberglow’s sour expression faded into a tiny laugh.  Rarity could still feel the tension in the mare beside her as they waited.  She completely understood.  The hairs on the back of her own neck were raised; it was as if she could feel the hateful gaze of the turquoise-colored mare behind them boring into the back of her skull.

Just like yesterday, a changeling in black robes arrived to announce the changeling royalty.  “All rise for their majesties, Queen Chrysalis the Fifth, and King Pharynx the Third.”  He paused, as once again Queen Chrysalis arrived through the Sunrise Room’s back door, carrying her brother.

Rarity met eyes with Flurry across the courtroom.  She looked exhausted, with bags of stress and sleeplessness under her eyes.  Rarity remembered the other day, when she’d suggested a spa treatment for Cadance.  Perhaps a mother-daughter vacation was in order, once all this was done?  She tried not to giggle at the thought, but from the puzzled look Flurry gave Rarity, some of her amusement had probably leaked through.

From behind the princess, a uniformed guard slipped into the Sunrise Room, looking harried.  Rarity recognized Guard Yolene from before, and she rushed towards the princess, whispering something urgently in her ear.

“What!?  But…” Flurry jerked stiffly in shock.  “O-of course she can.  G-guards, prepare to receive the Empress, Mi Amore Cadenza.”

A gasp rolled through the courtroom, and even Queen Chrysalis stood, though her brother stayed on their throne.  The doors swung wide to reveal two more yak guards, flanking Cadance’s withered form.  She was walking on her own, though she had a wing around both yaks on either side of her for support.  Rarity noted that she still wore the gauntlets of the Apparatus of Ocellus; the rest of the machine was strapped onto some sort of harness and carried by the yak to her right.

“Please.” Cadance’s harsh whisper cut through the murmuring crowd.  “I am only here to observe.  Continue about your business.”

The spell of silence was broken, and Flurry Heart leapt across the room to her mother’s side, taking the place of one of the guards.  She whispered something that Rarity couldn’t hear, and Cadance laughed. Flurry turned, and with a steadier voice, addressed the crowd.

“My mother has honored us today with her presence, but doesn’t wish to be a disturbance.  We can proceed.”  She helped Cadance to a seat right next to hers, at the prosecution table.  Rarity noted that Flurry’s barristers were already there, though like everypony else their stunned eyes were frozen on the Empress.

“Then, with your leave, your Eminence,” the King bowed as much as his seat would allow.  “We shall proceed?”

“Go ahead,” Cadance whispered.  Rarity did her best to slide closer to her, unwilling to disturb the proceedings but eager to be close to her old friend.  She looked up at Cadance with a puzzled expression, but Cadance merely gave her a mysterious smile before turning her attention back to the changeling king and queen.

“To all of you here, to the defendant, and the legal teams, members of the press and diplomats from afar,” Queen Chrysalis began, raising her voice enough that it filled the whole room.  “We have met with barristers from both sides, and with the complainant Princess Flurry Heart.  In light of testimony received yesterday, she has chosen to call no new witnesses and add no new evidence.  Barrister Habeus has also informed Us that he has nothing more to contribute to these proceedings.  Assuming there are no other objections, We are ready to proceed with Our decision.”

Rarity heard a cry of dismay from the back of the courtroom.  She turned to look; the Diarchy ambassador had surged to her hooves.  The blue-uniformed marines on either side of her were trying to coax her back into her seat, holding her back with their own hooves.

The changelings ignored the interruption.  “Defendant Heartwing, would you step forward?” the king began.  Heartwing, this time unbound by chain or muzzle, stepped forward, standing proudly in the center of the Sunlight Hall.  “The charges against you are regicide, treason, and vigilantism.  You have pled guilty.  Do you have anything you wish to say before we pass sentence?”

Heartwing opened his mouth but paused thoughtfully before speaking.  “Ever since I woke up, I thought it was my duty to fight.  To struggle against the oppression and evil that tainted the memory of those I love.  More and more, though, I realize that it is not my responsibility to fight for the dead, but to fight for the living. 

“I defer to the wisdom of this court; I am guilty of terrible things and must pay.  But I ask that I be allowed to keep fighting for those I loved then, and for those I love now.”

There was a flash of red light from under Heartwing’s robes, the glow that came from the Element of Loyalty.  Rarity had the urge to reach out and embrace him.  The thrill of fear filled her breast; what if things went poorly?  She looked over at both Emberglow and Terminus, seeing the same fear in their eyes.

“Very well, Heartwing.  My sister and I, having conferred on this subject, have decided the following:  for the charges of regicide and treason, we sentence you to petrification, for a time lasting a minimum of seven centuries.  You are sentenced to time served for this crime.”

Time served, Rarity thought, her heart pounding as she tried to digest what she’d heard.  Time served.  So he wouldn’t be going back into his slumber as a statue.  But they weren’t finished yet.

“The third charge caused the two of us a bit more consternation,” the Queen picked up.  “But with the grace of Princess Flurry Heart, we have come up with a just solution.  For the crime of vigilantism, the act of leading a rebellion in an unauthorized war against Equestria, we sentence you to community service, beginning immediately, for a time lasting until you are convinced you have completed the duty you claim to owe to those you love, past and present.”

“No!” the ambassador shouted.  Once again, Rarity looked to see the Diarchy knight being held back by her soldiers.  “No…” she repeated.

“Ambassador Turquoise, you are here as a courtesy.  Please restrain your outbursts, or you will be removed from this hall.”  Queen Chrysalis stared hard over the courtroom.  Turquoise froze, met the changeling queen’s stare, and hung her head.

“I am sorry, your majesty,” the ambassador replied.  “May I have leave to address this court?”

The king and queen glanced at each other, looking a bit shocked.  The queen nodded, and the king looked at Princess Flurry, who gave a tiny nod of her own.

“Very well, Ambassador Turquoise.  You may speak.”

“Thank you, your majesties.”  The crowd parted as Turquoise stood, walking towards the center of the Sunrise Hall.  All eyes were on her, but Turquoise kept her hateful gaze fixed on Heartwing.  As she passed Rarity, Rarity saw tears in her eyes.

Finally she reached the center of the room.  “Queen Chrysalis, King Pharynx, I am deeply sorry for my interruptions.  No offense was intended.”

Rarity saw her tremble, and then shook her head.  “No.  No, that’s not honest.  I do intend offense.  Because what I’ve seen here today breaks my heart.

“I’ve known…” her voice was shaking.  “I’ve known since I was a foal that my destiny was up here.  In the North.  The Saints called me to be the first to extend the hoof of peace to the crystal ponies.

“I worked for years doing research, devouring everything we knew about our cousins.  I knew that all the Saints were watching over me, even when my goal looked hopeless.”

Turquoise clenched her eyes shut, and Rarity saw tears leaking down her face.

“I had so much hope when I came here…” she whispered, as if only to herself.  When her eyes opened, there was only fury and tears.  “Today killed that hope.  There can be no peace between us.  Hopscotch.”

Rarity cocked her head to the side, ears straining.  Had the ambassador just said ‘hopscotch’?  Whatever could she…

The reasoning became apparent as several flashes of green light lit the room.  Cries of surprise cut through the crowd as several members of the press were engulfed in a magical haze, only to reveal the figures hiding behind the illusion.

Knights Mystic.  At least four that Rarity could see, and all armed with spears.

The room exploded with noise.  Panicked screams, cries of anger and rage, shouted orders.  Everypony began moving at once in an eruption of color and light.

One of the Knights threw something high in the air, above everypony, and Rarity looked despite herself.  It burst into a tremendous flash, so bright it sent a bolt of pain through Rarity’s head.  A roar of sound filled the room, and then Rarity could hear and see nothing.

She flailed about, pouring magic into her horn to do… something.  Anything.  A quick shield was all she could manage before something slammed into her, tossing her forward until she bumped into somepony else.  A large figure.  Cadance, probably.

Rarity still couldn’t quite see anything more than a sharp, bright glare, but she sidled up close to Cadance, pouring magic into the shield.  Something struck against it, and she grunted with effort.

The ringing in her ears was starting to subside.  Figures and blurs were resolving into shapes.  Somepony was shouting at her.

“..ity!  Rarity, look out!”  It was Cadance, slumped beneath her.  Her eyes focused on something behind Rarity.  Cadance’s horn flashed, and Rarity felt a burning tingle in her horn.  It took her a moment to recognize a transference spell, a way for one unicorn to give her energy to another.

She didn’t have time to turn to see what Cadance was looking at.  Instead, Rarity took the offered power and reinforced the shield, just as it rattled and buzzed under some kind of attack.  Blue light flickered and flashed all around her as her spell struggled, and tendrils of agony wormed down her horn and into her brain.  She could hear herself screaming through the ringing in her ears.

Rarity turned to face her opponent, keeping Cadance behind her.  It was a Knight Mystic, an earth pony mare with a hard expression on her face and a webwork of scars on her yellow muzzle.  She held a spear in her hooves, and the tip was poking through Rarity’s shield, surrounded by a dozen cracks in the glass-like magical construct.  Its deadly tip was pointed down at Cadance.

The shield rocked and flashed, and Rarity jerked to the side.  A second Knight was there, a pegasus stallion, wings flapping as he bore down from above, face twisted in a rictus grin.  His spear was also lodged into the blue barrier, grinding and cracking the magic as it inched towards them. 

Rarity could feel the energy in her shield slipping.  Each spear tip was something she could feel, like a spike driving into her head, grinding and piercing.  Mystics were trained to fight unicorns, she remembered.  Maybe they’d done something to their spears.

Something slammed into the pegasus Knight.  Rarity saw a blur of black fur and heard the Mystic cry out in pain and surprise.  His spear fell to the floor, and Rarity felt the pain in her head ease a little. 

But she couldn’t spare a glance for Terminus or the Knight he was engaged with.  The Knight mare howled a battle cry.  Spittle spattered against the shield.

The cracks grew.  Rarity held on.  But she was flagging.  The Knight’s muzzle spread in a smug grin.  Her lips moved, and despite the ringing in Rarity’s ears she heard enough to send a chill down her spine.

“It’s time to die, abomination.”  The Knight was staring at Cadance as she said it.

The shield shattered.  The Knight thrust forward, spear tip jerking down and to the side.  It was too fast.  Rarity wasn’t ready.  She tensed her hind-legs to throw herself in front of the spear; at least she could do this much. 

Rarity felt the kiss of the spear on her chest, even as she charged her horn for one last, desperate spell.  She was screaming, but she could barely hear herself.  Without thinking about it she clenched her eyes shut.

But the spear went no further.  “Eyes up, soldier!  Protect the Empress!”  Heartwing’s barked orders snapped her into the present.  The ringing was subsiding, and Rarity opened her eyes.

For one frozen second, Rarity was able to take in the entire room.  Knights and Empire guards were fighting and dying all over the room.  Civilians were slumped on the ground, crying, screaming, bleeding.  Queen Chrysalis, shaped like a bugbear, clutched her brother tightly with one claw while swiping at several soldiers who kept her at bay with long spears, disguised as ordinary ponies. Emberglow and the ambassador traded blows; Emberglow had found a spear somewhere.  Flurry Heart screamed in fury as she fired blast after blast of crackling energy at the ponies jabbing at her with their weapons.  Terminus and one Knight were in the air, wings beating furiously.  And in front of her, Heartwing, covered in blood, some of which seeped from a dozen wounds, grappled with the female Knight for her spear.

The moment passed, and time began flowing again.  Rarity gasped for breath and felt the trickle of blood down her chest.  She glanced at the Knight who’d broken her shield.  The Knight’s attention was on Heartwing.  Rarity snarled and fired off a blast from her horn.  It hurt, an aching echo of the Knight shattering her shield.

It was weak.  Rarity was distracted, winded, hurting, and scared.  But the blue bolt lanced out, striking the Knight in the side of her armor.  She barely stumbled, but Heartwing shoved, throwing the Knight to the floor.

His horn flared yellow and he ripped the spear out of her hooves, before sparing Rarity a glance.  “Stay by the Empress,” he ordered, before spinning the spear and slamming it down hard, blade first, into the fallen Knight through a gap in her armor.  The resulting liquid sound turned Rarity’s stomach.  She couldn’t look at the new splash of blood that marred Heartwing’s robes.  “Discordant!  Rally to the Empress!”

He followed his orders with a quick blast into the sky.  Rarity saw it clip the wing of Terminus’ opponent, who immediately swerved and slammed into the wall in a sickening crunch of bone and masonry.  Terminus spun and landed next to Rarity.  He’d found a spear too, though it was broken in half, with a jagged stump only a dozen or so inches below the point.

Rarity looked for Emberglow next.  Her heart leapt with terror when she saw Emberglow, bleeding from a gash below her ruined eye, limping on one hoof as she tried to keep herself between the ambassador and the Empress.  The ambassador was shouting and slashing wildly with a long knife, driving her back.  As Rarity watched, horrified, the knife bit deep into Emberglow’s shoulder. 

“Emberglow!” she screamed, jerking forward despite herself.  She had no plan other than to get that bitch away from her marefriend.  Her horn glowed with blind, furious magic. 

Rarity’s hooves churned in a gallop as she launched herself over fallen civilians and disguised Diarchy soldiers alike.  She had no plan, only adrenaline and an image burned into her mind: Emberglow, her Emberglow, crying out in pain at the slash of a knife. 

Rarity’s hoof caught a patch of blood on the floor and she slid, legs windmilling as she stumbled.  Her momentum carried her right into Ambassador Turquoise’s stunned face.  She heard Emberglow cry out in shock, as well as Terminus and Heartwing’s cries of protest behind her. 

“Don’t touch me, abomination,” she heard Turquoise hiss, and something shoved her, hard.  “This is your fault.  It’s all…”

Something sharp dug into the underside of Rarity’s barrel, and a hot wetness soaked her clothing.  Agony like fire sliced into her torso, making her gasp, her breath short.  She rolled away from the ambassador and looked down at the wet spot soaked into her dress, that beautiful velvet the princess had gifted her with.  Ruined now.

The ringing was back in her ears.  Rarity felt faint.

“Die, you foul thing,” something hissed at her, from close by.  Something was moving.  Rarity turned, too slowly, trying to see who was speaking. 

Suddenly Emberglow was right there, shoving her aside.  Rarity lost track in the scuffle.  She heard somepony grunt in pain.  She hoped it was the ambassador.

It was getting hard to focus on things.

“Rarity?  Rarity, you’re…” Emberglow sounded desperate.  Rarity was on the floor.  When did she wind up there?  “Rarity, look at me.”

Emberglow was standing right over her, fumbling with her dress.  Silly Emberglow.  Now was not the…

She hissed in pain as Emberglow’s hooves found her wound.  “It’s deep,” she heard Emberglow mutter.  Her blue eye looked worried.  Then there was something, a cloth of some sort, pressing hard against her barrel, hard enough to make her moan in agony.  “We have to put pressure on it, Rarity.  Can you…”

“I got it.”  It was Heartwing’s voice.  Rarity saw him move up beside Emberglow, his horn already glowing.  Rarity felt his magic wrap around her barrel, squeezing down.  “Put this on.”

“Thank the Saints.”  Emberglow was strapping something onto her hoof.  It was lavender in color, and splashed with blood.  Oh!  Rarity recognized one of the Knights Mystic’s rune gauntlets.  Soon enough it was glowing with arcane light as Emberglow frantically traced runes through the air. 

“But, darling, what about…” Rarity tensed her shoulders, trying to stand.  Heartwing pushed her back down, even as Emberglow held out a free hoof in front of her.

“Please don’t move, Rarity.”  It was a professional voice, a voice of command, made all the more wonderful by the tremulous emotion Rarity could sense behind it.  She felt the rush of cold energy, an unsettling chill as her insides knit and mended.  She couldn’t help the gasp that rushed out of her lungs, and she jerked up to a sitting position.

“Feel better?” Heartwing smiled thinly at Rarity, while Emberglow insistently pushed her back down, pulling at the tattered edges of her gown to look at the bloodstained fur underneath.

“Of course, I...”

“Stay down,” Emberglow ordered.  Rarity held back a sound of protest as Emberglow tore the dress.  It was ruined anyways, between the stabs and the blood, but she still had to spare a mournful thought for the gorgeous garment.

“Out of immediate danger?” Terminus asked from somewhere above Rarity’s head.

“Flurry has rallied the guards and broken through to the front door.  The changelings have their monarchs out of the room, they’ve secured the back door.  The enemy Knights are all down or captured,” Heartwing said shortly.  “Empress, are you okay?”

“Fine,” Cadance rasped from Rarity’s right.  “Is Rarity…”

“Rarity’s fine,” Emberglow reported, her face flush as she leaned down to give Rarity a relieved kiss on the cheek.  “She’s fine.” 

One kiss was not enough.  Rarity lifted herself up enough to throw her hooves around her doctor, eliciting a surprised squeak.  “Thank you,” she whispered against Emberglow’s neck, and then proceeded to kiss her more thoroughly.  She felt like she could risk it; Heartwing had said the room was secure.  “What about you, are you…”

“I’m okay for now,” Emberglow said.

“Princess Flurry will be sending for medics,” Heartwing said confidently.  “We will all let them check us over.”  It was an order.

“Yes, sir,” Emberglow said.  “While we wait, though, I’ll see what else I can do.”

Rarity took the moment of silence to look around the room while her marefriend began to move about, tending to the wounded soldiers and civilians.  What Rarity saw broke her heart.

Most of the bodies on the floor were the various reporters and civilians who had come to see the trial.  There were also guards, their crystal armor splashed with blood and limp on the painted floor. Many of the benches had been toppled in the frenzy. Rarity’s breath caught when she recognized the still form of Habeus, his eyes open and frozen in pain.  Near the table where Princess Flurry and her barristers sat was a trio of dead guards.  Rarity recognized the eager yak guard from before, Yolene, and felt her eyes brimming with tears.

With a pang of guilt she remembered her own words, just a few hours earlier, said to Emberglow.

We’re safe here in the Crystal Palace. 

That hadn’t exactly ended up being quite true, had it?

They don’t dare try anything.

And how many innocent ponies had paid the price for that assumption, hm?

With a shudder, she noticed the other bodies in the room.  There were the lavender-armored Knights, of course.  Two of them were limp on the ground, two more were buried, struggling, under piles of armored crystal ponies.  Ambassador Turquoise lay on the floor, only a few paces away, her face turned away and her body still. Several other ponies, probably soldiers disguised as civilians, were being dragged away by crystal pony guards.  Rarity finally saw Princess Flurry, her face a thunderstorm of outrage, directing her guards in dragging the assassins out of the room.

Their eyes met, and the Princess’ face softened.  She spread her wings, floating over the chaos to land next to Rarity.  “Rarity, you’re hurt!  Is everything…”

“Emberglow sorted me out, darling.  Really, it’s—” she cut off as Flurry swept her up in a full-wing hug.  “—oof.  Really, I’m just fine.”

“You saved my mother,” Flurry said, before stepping back.  “Don’t think I’ll ever forget that, Rarity.  You were wounded saving my mother.  The Empire won’t forget, either.”

Rarity didn’t know what to say to that, so she simply nodded, sniffing as she wiped at a tear in her eye.  Perhaps she had saved Cadance.  But what about all the others?  What if…

“I know that look, Rarity,” Heartwing moved up on her other side, bumping her with a hoof.  “Don’t go down that path right now.  Take some time to talk to Topaz and Terminus.  It will help.”

“Where are they?”

“Diarchy soldiers, disguised as press members, managed to barricade the door outside to stop reinforcements from interrupting their assassination attempt.  If Lofty and Topaz hadn’t been late, they wouldn’t have been able to alert the crystal guards that something was happening inside.”  Flurry’s own smile was wan.  “I’m rather impressed with that young stallion.  I think he’ll be good for her.”

Again, there was nothing for Rarity to say.  She felt oddly adrift.  She longed for the touch of her marefriend, but Emberglow was several paces away, healing a panting changeling soldier with a broken hoof.

“What would you like us to do now, Princess Flurry?” Heartwing said.  Flurry gave him an annoyed glare.  “What?  By the terms of my community service, I work for you now, don’t I?”

“If you insist.”  She glanced at the urgent figures that spilled through the doors.  Ponies dressed in hospital gowns were filtering into the room, bearing all sorts of first aid supplies.  “I trust I can put the prisoners in your charge?  You have the most experience dealing with enhanced Knights.”  She narrowed her eyes.  “I trust you can treat them with compassion.  We don’t condone torture here.”

“I don’t condone it either,” Heartwing said calmly.  “As you command, princess.”

Flurry Heart scowled at him as he trotted away towards the two struggling Diarchy Knights.  Terminus followed after him.  Flurry sighed as soon as they were out of earshot.

“I’m going to have to get used to that.”

“I think it will be as difficult for him as it is for you,” Cadance noted.

Flurry huffed.  “Not likely.”  She turned her gaze down to her mother, sitting on the ground, and her eyes grew soft.  “Come on, Mother.  Let’s get you checked out by the medics.  You too, Rarity.”

“I’ll help.”  Rarity took a moment to brush her hoof along the healed wound in her torso, wondering at the small scar.  It was like it had been healing for weeks, rather than seconds.  She reached down and helped Cadance to her hooves, amazed at the merely dull pain in her wound, the barely-there ache as she tried her wounded muscles.  She shot a grateful look over at Emberglow, but the mare was busy at work casting another spell over a whimpering photographer pony.

Rarity wondered what Emberglow was thinking.  She was starting to understand her marefriend’s tendency to hide pain under a stoic façade.  She wondered if Emberglow’s mental voice was torturing her right now.  She imagined she could see the battle raging behind Emberglow’s professional mien.

As Rarity was watching, she could see Emberglow’s gaze dart to the ambassador.  A medic was already there, looking over the unconscious Knight.  Emberglow kept looking as if she wanted to go help, but she kept her distance.

Finally a pair of medics noticed Rarity and Flurry helping Cadance along, and rushed over with chagrined looks on their faces.  They bowed awkwardly before Cadance, but Flurry waved them off with a hoof.

“Y-your eminence, I’m so sorry, we should have…”

“There were other wounded,” Cadance cut her off.  “I was fine to wait.  Please, look at my friend Rarity, first.”

Rarity and Flurry settled Cadance to the floor again, with Flurry even levitating a cushion from somewhere and making sure her weakened mother was comfortable.  Meanwhile, one medic began asking Cadance questions while the other approached Rarity.

“Are you wounded, miss?” he asked, and Rarity motioned to the bloodstained hole in her gown.

“I was, but I was already healed by Miss Emberglow, there.”  She pointed.

“The Discordant?” The medic sounded interested.  “I’ve heard about her!  I’d love to see…” He cleared his throat.  “Sorry.  Lay down please, I’d like to take a look at her work.”

Rarity obliged him, turning away as he tore at the dress once again to get a better look at her wound.  Instead, she kept her gaze protectively over her friends, particularly her marefriend.  Terminus and Heartwing were busy helping the guards fit chains onto the surviving Knights, and Emberglow looked tired.

“If you’re set here, Mother, I’m going to check on the changelings.  I think Queen Chrysalis was wounded in the attack.”

“I do hope they are both okay,” Rarity said.

“I think so.  The changeling guards managed to secure the back door and hustle them out of the room.”  Flurry leaned down, giving both of them a quick nuzzle.  “Thank you again, Rarity, for saving my mother.”

“It was nothing, darling.  Only what any friend would do.”  Rarity felt her face heating, and Flurry merely smiled and trotted off.

Suddenly Rarity felt the press of exhaustion on her mind.  She was prone, relaxed, and sore, but alive.  She rested her head on the floor, wondering why she shouldn’t just let herself drift off in a short nap.  The others could handle the results of today, right?  Just a few moments to rest her eyes…

Rarity may have drifted off for a second; she wasn’t sure.  But a sudden shout, and a flash of bright light, jerked her eyes open.  Ambassador Turquoise was rising, surging to her hooves, eyes ablaze.  Had she been feigning unconsciousness?

There was a knife in her hoof, a long blade, and even from the other side of the room Rarity could see it dripping with a viscous orange liquid.  How had she…

Rarity didn’t have time to wonder.  The ambassador, her face a mask of frenzied rage, launched herself towards Princess Flurry, who was facing the other way.

“Abomination!” the ambassador shrieked as she sailed through the air.

Time seemed to stop.  The Diarchy Knight, bruised and bloody but undaunted, knife leading, soared through the air.  Flurry Heart, eyes open in shock, spinning to respond, too slow.  Far too slow.  Rarity heard the yelp from the medic who was applying a bandage to her side as she rose to her own hooves, horn blazing.  Too far away.

She could see it all.  Soldiers and civilians, medics and officials, all staring in shock and horror as the Knight with a dripping blade descended on their monarch.  Nopony was close enough to stop her.

Nopony except Emberglow.

Wings spread, Emberglow was a pink blur shooting between the Princess and the assassin.  Rarity was running, even knowing she’d be too late.  Her eyes were frozen on the knife and its baleful-looking coating.  She barely saw Turquoise’s surprised eyes, the way she tried to jerk away, to stop what was about to happen.  She barely heard Emberglow’s huff of breath as the knife slid between her ribs, into Emberglow’s chest.  Both ponies thudded to the ground.

“Emberglow! No, I didn’t…” Turquoise protested, reaching out, horror and grief on her face.

Rarity never let her finish.  With a scream of rage, she fired off a bolt of pure, unfocused force.  It slammed against Turquoise hard enough to toss the Knight against the opposite wall, where she landed with a sickening crunch before flopping like a rag doll against the floor.

 

 
> Chapter 55
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 55


Coded communique from the Diarchy Embassy, Crystal Empire, to Sir Steadfast Word

THE BEER HAS BEEN SPILLED.  MOP WAS INEFFECTUAL, PRIMARY MESS WAS NOT CLEANED UP.  SECONDARY MESS NOT CLEANED UP.  TERTIARY MESSES NOT CLEANED UP.

WINE BOTTLE NUMBER TWO BROKEN BUT MENDING.  EXPERIMENT MAY HAVE BEEN PARTIALLY SUCCESSFUL.

1113 AF, Crystal Empire

Emberglow was awake.

This was a problem.

By this point, in her whole life, Emberglow had grown distressingly used to injury and unconsciousness.  It probably wasn’t healthy in the long term, but she was familiar with life-threatening danger.

Usually, at this point in the action, she was out cold.

“Emberglow?  Emberglow, darling, are you…”

She could hear Rarity’s frantic questions, her gasp of horror.

“Don’t pull it out!”

That voice was unfamiliar.

“The ambassador.  Secure the ambassador.  Is she down for sure, this time?”

That one was Princess Flurry.

Emberglow didn’t want to open her eyes, but she did anyway.  The light hurt, so she clenched them shut again.

“I saw her open her eyes!” Rarity shouted.  “Can you hear me, darling?”

Emberglow tried to take a deep breath, to respond, but a lance of agony knifed through her barrel.  She couldn’t take in a full breath, but she had to say something.  She needed to reassure Rarity, but when she opened her mouth, all she could do was cough.

Pneumothorax.  That’s what it was.  Unable to draw breath, intense pain in the chest, a feeling of impending doom.  They were classic symptoms.  But why was she still so lucid?

“R-rari…” she coughed out, trying to meet Rarity’s eyes.  Her gorgeous blue eyes were wet and panicked.  “I’ll be… fine.”

The medic to Rarity’s right was already in a whirlwind of motion, pulling out the bandages he would need to do his work.  There was a second medic right next to him, much younger, eyeing the knife nervously.

“Sir, should we take the knife out?”

“No.  Stabilize until we can get a stretcher.”

“Sir?  Unknown substance on the blade.”

Emberglow watched the medic hesitate, then nod.  “Flutter bandage, please.”

“What’s that?” Rarity demanded.  “What’s happening?  Why can’t you take the knife out, it’s covered in…”

“Miss, I’ll need you to step back.”

“Like Tartarus I’ll step back, that’s my marefriend!  Tell me what’s happening!”

“Miss, could you please…”

“Rarity.” Emberglow could barely manage to speak, but she knew growing hysteria when she saw it.  “…calm down.”

“Don’t you ‘calm down’ me, Emberglow!” Rarity was hyperventilating.  “You’ve got a knife covered in Celestia-knows-what shoved in you, I probably just killed a pony, and these quacks won’t even tell me…”

“Rarity, can you come with me, please?”  Emberglow saw the Princess’ hoof loop around Rarity’s barrel.  “Give the medics some space to do their work.  I’m sure Miss Emberglow will be fine.”

“But…”

“Shh, Rarity.  It will be okay.”  Emberglow met the princess’ eyes, and somehow managed a nod of gratitude.  Rarity was still protesting as Flurry Heart drew her away.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll guide you to the hospital wing.”

“Sorry about… her…” Emberglow rasped to the medic, who glanced at her face in surprise.

“Don’t try to speak, please,” he said.  He held a bandage up, and Emberglow couldn’t help but look down at the knife handle protruding from her body.  “First Response, pull the blade out on three.  One, two…”

The pain was worse than when the blade had gone in to begin with.  At that point she’d had surprise, adrenaline, and desperation all cushioning the blow.  Her anticipation of the pain made it even more awful.  It was like she felt every inch of the knife as it slid out of her gut, and she felt a liquid spurt as the blood flowed out of her wound, accompanied by a wheezing bubble of air.  A second later the medic slapped the bandage down on the wound.

The pressure hurt, but not as much as removing the knife.

“Good job, well done,” he softly soothed.  It was like he was calming a foal.  “Now just stay still, we’ve got a stretcher on the way.  We’ll get you the doctor, and he’ll figure out what was on that knife.  You have nothing to worry about.”

That was the sort of thing Emberglow would say to a patient, a polite lie which would keep them calm.  It made her want to laugh, if it weren’t for the growing terror.  Why was she awake, still?

And why did her wings hurt?

Oh Saints, her wings.  Her wings were on fire!

She could feel them twitching and straining against the floor.  Suddenly holding still wasn’t an option, she had to do…

Something.  Anything at all to stop the burning agony that laced up and down her wings like magma.  Her breath came in short gasps, her mouth wide open in a silent scream.

“Okay, we’re ready to move you to the stretcher, now.”  She heard the voice from a billion miles away.  For a moment, Emberglow had forgotten the wound in her side, forgotten the medics, forgotten Rarity and Princess Flurry and Turquoise and the knife and everything else ‘cause it hurt so much it hurts it hurts why does it hurt why wasn’t she passing out why was she still awake?!

Emberglow couldn’t even fill her lungs with enough air to scream.  “Wings,” she croaked.  Her limbs twitched and spasmed.  Her wings were fluttering, vibrating.  “Wings HURT!”

She tried to open her eyes, but everything she could see was chaos.  Impossible illumination filled her view, brighter than staring at the sun.  The pain lancing into her head was nothing compared to her wings, but she clenched her eyes shut anyways.

Eyes.

Eyes.

Had she really seen out of…

A new wave of tingling and burning blazed over her wings, and she couldn’t think about it any longer.

There were echoing sounds and shifting lights from behind her eyelids.  She didn’t dare open them.

Voices.

Urgent.

Frightened.

Angry.

Pleading.

Calming.

Something picked her up, lifted her gently into the air.  It was cool and soothing.

It felt like being wrapped in a blanket.

It felt like love.

The pain didn’t stop, but Emberglow was moving.  The onslaught upon her senses didn’t stop, but she could only hear the sound of her own half-breaths.  In and out.  In and out.  Each breath was stopped short by a tight rush of agony in her core.  Her mind was hazy, but she couldn’t sleep.  Why couldn’t she sleep?  Why couldn’t…

She was moving.  She tried not to think too hard about what was happening; she couldn’t focus too long on any single thought anyway.  She tried to take comfort in whatever was wrapping her about.  Snippets of conversation managed to break through the fog of confusion.

“…ing, please hold still we’re almost…”

That might have been Rarity.  Emberglow tried to hold still, but it was impossible.  Her wings twitched and shook, her hooves tensed and squirmed.

“…to the palace infirmary, they have the equipment we’ll…”

More moving.  More voices.  More pain.  Emberglow tried once more to open her eyes, only to yelp again as the disorienting colors and shapes drove them shut.

“…why did…nevermind.  Patient status?”

“…eration wound with probable pneumothorax…”

“…d you remove the…”

“…own substance on the knife, probably toxi…”

“…ns why you didn’t sedate the…”

The words bombarded Emberglow as she was jostled and moved again, this time onto something soft.  She wanted to sob as the warm, loving, comforting thing faded away, but then somepony was holding her hoof.

“I’m here.”

It was Rarity.  Rarity was there.  She sounded terrified, her voice hitched with emotion.  The other voices continued.

“…urse, I need the thaumic spec, and prepare the anas…”

One more prick of pain, this time in her neck.  Emberglow twitched and cried out, one last time, before the colors faded, faded…

…and then nothing.


*   *   *   *   *


It was the voice of an angel singing.

“I know you, you're a special one

Some see crazy where I see love

You fall so low but shoot so high

Big dreamers shoot for open sky…”

The voice stopped singing, and began a low, whispered conversation Emberglow couldn’t hear.  She tried to open her eyes, but everything was dark, greyed out.  She took a breath.  Her chest felt tight, but she could breathe again.  She was about to beg the voice to keep singing.

“Oh!  Doctor, could you come here, I think…”

And then nothing again.


*   *   *   *   *


“…how long do you think she’ll sleep for?”

“I can’t say, princess.  I think she’s out of danger, but I’ve never dealt with a poison like this before.  It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“Trust the twisted minds down south to come up with something like this.”

“It’s not all bad, Princess.  If it weren’t for their rune technology, I might not have been able to save her.”

“Is it true, then?  That the poison seemed specifically designed to…”


*   *   *   *   *


The angel was singing again.

“…the seasons change, and leaves may fall

but I’ll be with you through them all

And rain or shine, you’ll always be mine…”

Somepony was holding her hoof, gently stroking at the fur.


*   *   *   *   *


“Gonna sleep forever?”

“No, True.  Emberglow’s gonna be just fine.  She just needs to rest a bit longer while her body heals itself.  She got really hurt helping the Princess.”

“Oh.  I like the princess.”

“I do too, honey.  I heard she’s been taking over some of your lessons.  Do you enjoy it when Princess Flurry is your tutor?”

“Uh huh!  But not math.”

“I don’t know if anybody likes math, honey.  But we all have to learn.”

“…Topaz?”

“What is it, True?”

“…can I call you Momma?”

“…wha…?”


*   *   *   *   *


“…sorry if you can’t hear anything I’m saying.  It feels so stupid to be talking to a coma patient, but it’s helpful, you know?  I hope you don’t mind me bouncing ideas off of you.  I’m sorry that I can’t wait.  Princess Flurry is already mobilizing the army, and we’ll be moving south soon.  I kinda want to take the next step before we jump back into battle again.

“I think I’ve decided on an apple.  That’s going to be my proposal gift.  No, not a real apple, but a crystal one, small.  Maybe a pendant or a necklace or something.  The princess told me that the changeling intelligence agents had compiled a detailed list of genealogy, part of some project she’d been considering centuries ago.  I found out where my family came from.  I don’t know… I thought that maybe basing my gift off of their old family symbol might represent me reaching back to a more peaceful time, hoping that our marriage might symbolize…

“Ugh.  I’m bad at articulating this.  You gotta wake up, Emberglow, so I can hear you tell me how stupid I am.”


*   *   *   *   *


“I don’t know how much you’ll remember of all this, Lady Emberglow.  I have to say, you’ve had a busy few days since you promised me you’d come have a chat about Radiant healing methods.  Don’t worry, Lady Emberglow.  I forgive you.  Though I do wish you’d chosen a different method to find your way to my clinic.” 

Emberglow stirred.  Carefully she tried to move her hooves.  She was… more lucid than she had been in a while.

“Oh, you’re awake?  Sorry I disturbed you.  It’s just that sometimes I talk to fill the silence when there’s no nurses or conscious patients around.”  The voice laughed.  “It was a bit quiet in here until you showed up.  Sunset Shimmer is not much of a conversationalist, you see.”  He laughed again.

Emberglow tried to flex her wings.  They were stiff, but there was no pain.  She was on her stomach, so she could carefully stretch them out.  She felt sheets shifting about her.

“Hold on just a moment, Lady Emberglow.  I’ll get you free of…” she felt the sheet pull back, and she tried yet again to open her eyes.  There was something in the way, so she reached up to try and move it.  “Wait, please.  I’ll have to ask you to leave the blindfold on for now.  Please don’t worry, I’ll explain in a moment.”

“…Rarity?” Emberglow croaked, her throat dry from disuse.

“She’s out for a walk, with your friends Terminus and Topaz.  She’d spend every waking moment at your side if she could, but I threatened to ban her from my infirmary if she didn’t get some air every so often.”

It gave Emberglow a warm feeling in her chest to hear that.

“You’re the doctor, right?  Heartthrob?”

“That’s me.  Now, I’m sure you’re curious about what’s going on, and why I won’t let you take your blindfold off.  I’ll tell you while I’m performing some basic exams, okay?  Please stay on your stomach and spread out your wings to the side, as if you are about to take flight.”

Emberglow complied.  It was harder than she’d thought; each wing was unnaturally rigid for some reason.

“Stretch just to the point of discomfort, please,” the doctor said.  Emberglow felt the strain in her muscles as she reached out with her pinions as far as was comfortable.  It felt surprisingly good to stretch them, and she realized she’d probably been in this bed for a long time to get this stiff.

“Hold them there, please,” the doctor said, and Emberglow flinched as she felt the touch of something cold and smooth.  “You’re a doctor too, right?  This is a thaumic spectrometer.  You are familiar with their use, yes?”

“In theory.  I never did much practical medicine outside of battlefield treatment,” Emberglow managed.

“I see.  So I’ll explain what I’m doing as I go.”  The doctor’s voice was calm and soothing.  “What do you recall about your condition?”

“I saw Turquoise start to rise just in time to intercede.  I could tell she had a weapon, but I couldn’t see what it was.  I just saw her face.  Her eyes…” Emberglow shuddered from the cold metal passing over the muscles in her wing.  She’d never seen Turquoise’s face so twisted with hate.  “I couldn’t let her…”

“I don’t know if I should tell you this part.”  The doctor sounded amused.  “But you’re a hero in the Empire, now.  We love our princess, and you saved her life.”  He laughed.  “I hope you’re comfortable with fame.”

“Uh…”

“Sorry.  Did you get a look at the weapon?”

“No.  I heard the medics talking about some sort of poison on it, though?”

“Yes, there was.”

“What was it?” Emberglow steeled herself.  Regardless, she knew it couldn’t have been good.

“We’re still studying it, but we’ve made a few discoveries.  Once I hear more of your experience I’ll be able to fill in more of the gaps in our understanding, though.  Please, continue where you left off.  She’d just lunged at the princess.”

“Of course.”  Emberglow flinched as the device pressed a little too hard against a sore spot, but she stretched out her wings again.  “After the knife went in, I began showing the symptoms of pneumothorax.  But something was different.  I was too alert.  I felt… energized.  Like I’d just drank a whole pot of coffee.  And that’s when my wings started to hurt.”

“Describe that feeling for me, if you would?”

“It started out with paresthesia,” Emberglow said.  It was easy, now, to think about how terrified she’d been.  How wrong it all felt, how she couldn’t get enough air to say anything.  “I, uh, I’ve been electrocuted before, and after a while it started to feel a little like that?  And then it started burning.”

“All over your body?”

“No, just my wings,” Emberglow said.  She couldn’t help but twitch them a little in memory, and felt the doctor patiently lift the spectrometer while he waited for her to finish shifting about.

“I see.” Heartthrob sounded confident.  “Well, Lady Emberglow, I think we can be cautiously optimistic about your prognosis.  There are a few complications, but those should…”

He trailed off, and Emberglow had to fight the impulse to lift the bandage she had wrapped around her eyes.  Instead, she twisted her ears, listening to the sound of other voices approaching.

“…think you’ll see, darling, that a fusion of traditions will be best.  Not just yours and Lofty’s, but something from the past, as well.  After all, we’re…”

Emberglow heard two sets of hoofsteps enter the room, and Rarity’s voice froze.

“Miss Rarity?  She just woke up a few minutes ago.  Come and…”

The doctor never got to finish.  Emberglow heard a galloping hoofbeat and a wail that somehow managed to be both desperate and relieved.

“Oh Emberglow, you’re awake!”  Somepony bounded onto the bed next to her, and suddenly Emberglow was being crushed in a tight embrace.  “Ooh!  Sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to…”  The hooves embracing her jerked away.

But Emberglow laughed, furled her wings and rolled to the side, lifting her own hooves to wrap around Rarity.  “Hello, Rarity.”  She couldn’t see, still, but she could lean in close and breathe in Rarity’s scent.  She smelled like fresh air and clean linen.

“You have no idea how…” Rarity sniffled.  “Well, you’ve been asleep for so…” she sniffled again, letting out a hitched sort of sob.  “Goodness.  I’m rather a mess, aren’t I?”

“How long was I out?” Emberglow asked.

“Two weeks.” Heartthrob’s voice was grim, and even Emberglow flinched.  Comas were terrible, and two weeks was a long time.  “I would say Rarity was by your side for ninety nine percent of it.”

“And I would have been here when you woke up, too, if you hadn’t chosen such an inconvenient time,” Rarity said softly, right into her ear.  “Don’t worry, darling.  I forgive you.”  She felt the gentle press of a kiss on her cheek, and Emberglow turned enough to find Rarity’s lips with her own.

“Hey, Emberglow.” That voice was Topaz’.  “Really happy to see you’re doing better.  We’ve all been worried about you.  How are you feeling?”

“Better now.”  She squeezed Rarity tightly.  “The doctor was just explaining what had happened,” Emberglow said.  “And he was going to tell me why I couldn’t take my blindfold off quite yet?” She lifted her voice at the end, letting it be a question.

“Oh, yes,” the doctor said.  “Forgive me, Emberglow, but we have some more tests I’d like you to undergo.”  He laughed.  “Don’t worry, you won’t even have to move from where you’re lying.”

“Good,” Rarity huffed, and Emberglow laughed.

“Okay, Emberglow, I’m going to ask you to turn your head carefully and look towards the sound of my voice.  Rarity, would you be so kind as to hold this up against Emberglow’s good eye?”  Emberglow felt some things shifting.  “Yes, just like that.  Now, when I say so, Rarity will untie your blindfold.  I want you to try opening your injured eye.  Rarity, now.”

The blindfold slipped off Emberglow’s head, and she did her best to follow orders and open her eyes.  Something dark and round blocked her good eye.

From the other, though…

Light!

It was so bright she instinctively clenched her eyes shut.  But the revelation sent them open again, if only a crack.

Light!  From her ruined eye.  She squinted and strained, staring in the direction of the doctor’s voice.  There were shapes.  Colors, too.  A… rectangle?  And a pony behind it.

She slowly adjusted to the light, waiting for the images to become clearer.  But there was nothing more than a blur.

“I can see.  A blur of colors and light, but I can see!” Emberglow couldn’t help her excitement.  She bounced in place, and Rarity giggled beside her.  “What…”

“Thank you, Rarity.  You can lower the block, now.”  The smooth round shape blocking Emberglow’s good eye dropped away, and she blinked a few times, once again adjusting to her one good eye.  The rectangle she’d seen before was a rectangular eye exam chart. 

She then glanced over at Rarity, sitting next to her on the narrow hospital bed.  Rarity looked good, though a little tired, and Emberglow beamed at her, earning a smile in return, before she took the time to examine her surroundings.

The palace infirmary had the same décor as the rest of the palace, only somehow more sterile.  There were four hospital beds, as well as numerous monitors, gauges, devices, and medical tools.  Against one wall was a tall, wide window, rimed with frost sparkling in the sunlight. Only one of the other beds was occupied; Emberglow recognized the still-comatose form of Sunset Shimmer.

“What happened?”

“The poison you were infected with was not meant for you,” Doctor Heartthrob said.  “It was specifically designed for another.”  He set down the chart and moved over to her bed.  “From what I can tell, it was made to attack the aetheric nerve clusters.  All three of them.”

“But ponies only have one set of aetheric nerve clusters,” Emberglow protested.

The doctor nodded.  “Most ponies, yes.  The cornaetheric nerve in unicorns, the geotheric clusters in earth ponies, and the pteryaetheric clusters in pegasi.  But alicorns have all three.”

Emberglow was horrified, but not surprised.  Of course the poison had been intended for Princess Flurry Heart.

“I am fairly certain that if the poison had struck the princess, she would have been gravely injured at least.  Probably even killed.”  The doctor smiled and bowed.  “The Empire owes you a great debt, Emberglow.”

“But why am I okay?  And why is my eye… healing?”  That wasn’t the right word, exactly.

“The alchemical poison was made to overload the three nerve clusters at once, causing a sort of violent and aggressive thaumopenia in the victim.  Because you had only one set of aetheric nerve clusters, the poison was unable to perform its full function.”

“But my…” Emberglow’s wings flared suddenly, and her stomach twisted.  “So did it…”

“You do not have the symptoms of thaumopenia.  In fact, that’s what I was testing earlier,” the doctor pointed to a device next to the bed, a small round sensor attached by cords to a monitor.  “Your pteryaetheric nerves were damaged, but they are healing.  One moment.”  The doctor trotted over to a cabinet at the other end of the infirmary, pulling out a small bag.  He brought it over, and upended the bag in front of Emberglow to reveal a tiny tuft of cloud.  “Touch that, please.”

Emberglow couldn’t explain the sudden spike of nervous fear she felt as she reached towards the cloud.  She lowered her shaking hoof onto the cloud.  It gave a moment’s resistance, like she was passing her hoof through liquid, before slipping through.

“What…”

“Lingering effects of the poison, I think,” the doctor said.  “Until that clears up, you will probably not be able to walk on clouds or fly.  As you know, pegasus flight takes…”

Emberglow stopped listening.  Stopped hearing.  There was a rush of air in her ears.  Flight?  She couldn’t fly?  She was stuck? 

Suddenly the walls felt close.  Too close.  The ceiling was there, just above her, barely above her.  She was panting.

Rarity and the doctor were both speaking, but she didn’t hear.  She was on her hooves, and somepony was pulling her down, back towards the bed.  Maybe…

The handle on the window was covered in a blue aura, and the window itself was wrenched open, filling the room with chilly air.  Emberglow didn’t care; her legs carried her, almost unconsciously, in a desperate, stumbling charge towards the open window.  The cold wind washed over her face and fur, and she shoved her head out the window, her vision spinning.

“It’s fine.  I expected this.”  The doctor’s words finally registered.  “It’s not uncommon for pegasi to experience claustrophobia immediately after they’ve been told they can’t fly for a bit.  Deep breaths, Emberglow.  Take in the fresh air, look up at the sky.  Deep breaths.”

Objectively, Emberglow knew he was right.  She’d heard much the same from her own training.  But experiencing it in real life was something else.  She closed her eyes and fluffed out her wings, letting the wind run over them as she focused on her breathing for a moment. The cold was uncomfortable, but she felt her heart rate going back down and her breath slowing.

A warm body sidled up alongside her, wrapping a hoof over her shoulders.  Emberglow furled her wings and leaned into the embrace.  “Thank you.”

“Feeling a little better?” Rarity’s voice was soft.

Emberglow nodded.  “A little.  I don’t know why that happened.  I don’t even fly that often.”  She still wouldn’t open her eyes just yet.  “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.  As I said, the reaction isn’t atypical.” Doctor Heartthrob was somewhere behind her.  “Right, Doctor Topaz?”

“You’ve dealt with panic attacks before, right Emberglow?” Topaz’ voice was getting closer, and she felt the mare on her other side.  Squeezed between her friend and her lover, with the chilly air blowing under her wings, Emberglow nodded, breathing in and out slowly, letting the wind wash away her lingering panic.  After a few breaths she opened her eyes, then leaned to her left to give Rarity a quick peck on the cheek before squeezing both mares with her wings.

“Thanks, both of you.”  Emberglow looked out at the overcast skies and the crystal city spread out below her.  She could make out ponies and other forms moving about the snow-swept streets, and she shivered.  As if in response, Rarity pressed in closer at her side. 

“Oh!  That does remind me!” Rarity cried.  “Come back inside when you’re ready, darling.  I have a gift for you.  I finished it while you slept.”

Emberglow tried not to complain at the sudden lack of warmth by her side, but instead followed Rarity back into the room.  Rarity was prancing, her smile radiant as her horn flared to life, levitating a ribbon-wrapped box up onto Emberglow’s empty bed from underneath.  “I’ve been waiting to give this to you.  I do hope you like it.”

Emberglow took hold of the pink ribbon that bound the box, pulling it loose slowly while Rarity’s hooves danced with excitement.  She nearly slowed down midway to tease the eager mare, but Emberglow was too excited herself.  She slipped the ribbon off and lifted the box to reveal a neatly folded, cream colored garment, trimmed in rose colored faux fur.  She lifted it out carefully.  It was a coat, a gorgeous coat, with a shimmering crimson lining.

As it unfolded, Emberglow gasped.  Stitched in vivid detail into the coat’s flank was Emberglow’s cutie mark.  The shapes and colors were perfect; her own purple cross and heart were rendered beautifully.

“She must have studied your flank very closely to reproduce that,” Topaz noted, and Emberglow’s face burned as she spun in shock to stare at her giggling friend.  “Don’t look at me!  Try it on!”

Emberglow nodded silently, slipping the coat around herself.  There were slits for her wings, and she slid them through as she wrapped herself in the lovely garment.

It felt like a hug.

“Here, let me.” Rarity was right up next to her, fastening the toggles at the neck of the coat.  Her hooves shook, just a little.  “What do you think?”

“I love it,” Emberglow breathed.

“Good!” The hint of nervousness was gone, and Rarity beamed.  “Now you’ll have something to wear if you need to spend any more time outside.”

She meant if Emberglow had another claustrophobia attack.  Emberglow leaned over to nuzzle Rarity’s cheek, quickly.  “Thank you so much.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Rarity waved a hoof.  “As much for me as for you.”  But Emberglow could see Rarity’s gentle blush.  She cleared her throat with an embarrassed little noise.  “Now.  Doctor.  Before Emberglow had to step out for a moment, you were explaining what had happened to her eye?”

“Right.” The doctor nodded.  “The poison is designed to overload the thaumic nerves with enough motic radiation to cause them to shut down.  It’s what happened to you, what makes it so that you can’t manipulate clouds or fly until it clears from your system.  But it also seems to have had an unintended side effect.”

Emberglow felt herself tense up nervously.

“Obviously we’ll be keeping an eye on things.  But it’s likely the leftover bits of the poison, the parts that should have attacked the thaumic nerves for earth pony and unicorn magic, went searching for pathways that don’t exist in your body.  When it couldn’t find them, it looks as if it made some of its own from the damaged thaumic pathways between your injured eye and your brain.”

The doctor shrugged, looking suddenly unsure.  “At least that’s what I’ve been able to piece together.  I’m going to want to keep observing things, to make sure that’s the only side effect.”

“So… I’ll be able to see again?”  Emberglow didn’t want to hope. 

The doctor held up a careful hoof.  “Not completely.  At the rate the poison is leaving your system, I’d say most of the change has happened already.  You’ll be able to regain some sight through that eye, with practice, but nothing like what you were used to.  I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Emberglow laughed.  She closed her good eye, leaving the injured one open.  It was still nothing more than clouds of color, but she could see.  “It’s more than I ever thought I’d have again.  Thank you, doctor.”

“There will be therapy,” Doctor Heartthrob warned. “You’re going to have to strengthen your bad eye by wearing a patch on your good one if we’re going to get the most out of it.”

“I’ll be good, doctor.”


*   *   *   *   *


“You’re going to have lots of visitors,” Rarity had warned, before she’d curled up on one of the spare clinic beds to shut her eyes for a few moments.  Emberglow could tell she was tired; if the dark rings around Rarity’s eyes hadn’t given it away, the whispered conversation she had later with Topaz certainly did.

“She’s barely left your side, you know,” Topaz said.  “And she’s right.  You’re a hero, now.  Everypony in the Empire knows your name and what you did.  They’re composing songs.”

“S-songs?” Emberglow gaped.

“The few I’ve heard are a little rushed, but not bad.” Topaz smirked.  “But really, Emberglow, what did you expect?  When you jump in front of an assassin to save a princess, you’re going to get famous.”

That brought forth an uncomfortable thought.

“Wh-what about Turquoise?”

Topaz eyed her.  “She was your friend, right?”  She sighed.  “She survived.  Flurry has her in a cell beneath the palace.  Don’t worry!” Topaz held up a hoof when it looked like Emberglow was about to say something.  “She’s far more comfortable than any prisoner in the Diarchy.  We treat our prisoners well, here.  Even those that try to kill our princess.”

“And Princess Flurry?  She’s okay too?”

“She’s going to be one of those aforementioned visitors, soon.  The last time we spoke, she said she’s going to reward you personally.” Topaz looked amused.  “Expect something grand and political that probably doesn’t matter at all to you.  But don’t let it make you think that she’s any less grateful.”

Topaz’ prophecy came true a few hours later.  Topaz had left to go check on Lofty, leaving Emberglow and Rarity both to rest in privacy while the doctor retreated to a small office off the main clinic room.  Emberglow had almost fallen back asleep when the clank of armor heralded the arrival of several guards, slipping in to secure the room.  They looked tense and wired, eyes darting with paranoid energy as they checked each door and alcove for potential threats.

“Clear, Princess,” a guardsmare announced as soon as they’d finished their circuit.  Princess Flurry stepped into the room, followed by a young unicorn mare who looked familiar.  She had pale yellow fur, and a short mane of shocking dark blue.

True Tale was riding on the Princess’ back.  He bounced down, rushing over to Emberglow’s bed.

“I hope you don’t mind a minor entourage, Emberglow.” Princess Flurry said softly, with a glance towards Emberglow’s bed.  “My students both wished to visit you.”

The young mare was staring at Emberglow with an unreadable expression, eyes blazing with emotion.

“Lightning?  Can you…” The princess began, and the unicorn jumped.

“Yeah.  Yeah, princess.  I’m okay.  I know… I know what you said.”  The unicorn stepped around the princess, took a deep breath, and suddenly Emberglow remembered where she’d seen her before.

On a pirate ship.

Emberglow was on her hooves before she realized she’d moved.

“Woah, woah!” The unicorn was waving one hoof.  “Relax, please.  I mean you no harm.”

It made no sense to Emberglow.  This unicorn should mean her harm.  She had every reason to—

The unicorn’s eyes shifted about the room, as if nervous, looking at anything except Emberglow.  “I… uh, I went over this a thousand times in my head.  What it would be like to meet you.  I’m not sure this is going like how I imagined at all.”

“How did you imagine it?” Emberglow whispered.

The unicorn shrugged, her gaze finally landing on the floor in front of her.  “With more shouting, I guess.  Some dramatic accusations.  But… I just can’t find the energy to hate you, Emberglow.”

Meanwhile, True had worked his hooves up to the side of Emberglow’s bed and was staring between the two of them, his own expression puzzled.  Emberglow reached down to help him up, and he bounded over to give her a hug.

“Daddy says you got hurt saving the princess,” True whispered.  “You okay now?”

It was the kind of interruption present company needed.  Emberglow saw the unicorn visibly relax, and some of the worry smooth out of the Princess’ face.  She smiled and gave True a squeeze back.

“Yes.  The doctor helped me,” she told him.  “Thank you for coming to visit.”  She turned to the princess.  “Student?”

For some reason, Princess Flurry looked away, a small, embarrassed smile on her face.  “I have two students now.  Lightning Bug doesn’t seem to mind.”  The unicorn smiled and nodded.  “There’s just something special about True.”

“Also the Princess figured if she brought us both I’d be less likely to blast you in your hospital bed,” Lightning said sardonically.  Emberglow looked up in alarm.  “Kidding.  Kind of.”

Lightning stepped slowly towards Emberglow’s bed, and Emberglow turned her attention away from True towards her.  “Is it… would it be inappropriate to ask for your forgiveness?”

Lightning froze, swallowed hard, and shook her head.  “No.  No, I don’t think it’s inappropriate.”

“I’m so sorry,” Emberglow breathed, and she felt tears slipping down her eyes.  “I didn’t know.  I know that doesn’t matter, but I didn’t know.”  There were a billion other things she could say, she should say, but nothing was coming to mind.

“Why sad?” True tapped at Emberglow’s cheek, demanding her attention.  She sniffed and looked down at True.

“Because I did something bad,” Emberglow told him.  “And now I don’t think I can make it right.”

“Did you say sorry?” True asked.

Emberglow looked at Lightning and gulped.  Lightning gave a tiny, wan smile.

“I did.  Sorry doesn’t always fix things, though.”

“Did you get grounded?” True whispered.

All three of the grown ponies gave a little laugh.  “I guess you could say I grounded myself.”  That’s what Topaz thought, at least; Emberglow’s nightmares were her way of punishing herself, subconsciously.  It was nothing like what Heartwing had done with his tantabus, but still unhealthy, according to her.

“Grounded yourself?  That’s silly,” True said, with an air of authority.  Emberglow laughed again, and gave him a squeeze.

“Maybe,” Emberglow said.  “Adults can be silly sometimes.”

“Like Starlight.  Starlight was grounding herself, too.  That’s what Miss Topaz says.”  Suddenly, a look of childish horror oozed over True’s face, and he grasped Emberglow’s cheeks tightly with two hooves.  “You’re not gonna disappear like Starlight, are you?”

“No!” Emberglow squeezed him tight again.  “No, I won’t.  I promise.”

“Not allowed to ground yourself anymore,” True muttered.

“You heard the foal,” Lightning said, amused.  She stepped forward, ruffling True’s mane.  “Not allowed, Miss Emberglow.”  Their eyes met, and Lightning nodded.  “I’m gonna need time, but…” she sighed.  “…I’ll get there.  Seeing you here, and hearing what you did to save the Princess, that helped.”  She glanced up at Flurry, patiently waiting while the other mares spoke.  “Thanks for bringing me, Princess.  I think… I think that’s all I needed.”

“Of course, Lightning.”  The princess nodded her head sagely.  “Now, Miss Emberglow.  We have the matter of your reward for saving my life.”

“Oh, I don’t need…”

“One does not simply save a princess’ life and walk away without some sort of recognition.  The citizens of the Empire would riot if I didn’t appropriately reward you.”

“But…”

“Emberglow?” Rarity’s sleep-fogged voice came from the bed next to her.  She looked over to her marefriend, who had rolled over and was regarding the whole scene with half-lidded eyes that managed to appear both sleepy and amused.  “Why don’t you let the princess speak before you object?  It’s only good etiquette after all.  It is not becoming to interrupt royalty.”

“Sorry…” Emberglow squeaked out, before snapping her mouth shut.  Rarity was teasing her, she was sure.

“Don’t be,” Princess Flurry shook her head.  “When you hear what your reward is, you might not be so ready to apologize.  As per my mother’s advice, I decided to make your reward—” she paused thoughtfully “—politically useful.  Yours as well, Rarity.  The throne can’t forget your efforts to protect my mother, after all.”  She turned to Lightning.  “Can you record the moment, my faithful student?”  Lightning nodded, and there was a pop of air and a flash of magic as a quill and scroll appeared in the air in front of her.

Emberglow was confused, and a part of her wanted to ask what was about to happen, but the princess stood up straighter, her voice deepening into a more formal tone.  “Rarity and Emberglow.  As a result of your services to the throne of the Crystal Empire, We have determined that you are to be given a noble title.  Our Blessed Mother concurs, and We have been given enthusiastic support of the Changeling monarchs as well.  From henceforth, you shall be known as Marchioness Rarity and Marchioness Emberglow.  Your titles are hereditary, and should you not have offspring you have the rights to name heirs to your positions.  You may also choose names for your Noble Houses, so that future generations may look to your examples and continue to honor your deeds that day.”

Emberglow and Rarity stayed silent throughout the entire speech.  Emberglow’s mouth was agape, but Rarity was beaming.  Marchioness Emberglow?  Noble house names?  She felt lightheaded.

“What did you expect, darling?” Rarity cooed from her cot.  “Such things are the cost of heroism, I assume.”

“That is not all,” Princess Flurry said.  “If you would accept, Emberglow, I would also lay an additional duty on your shoulders.  I would name you ‘Heart’s Shield’.  A largely ceremonial role, you would be the Empress’ champion, and the only one with permission to bear arms in her chambers.”  Princess Flurry paused.  “The title has not been held for over two centuries.  It is a great honor.”

“I-if I accept?” Emberglow stammered.  Her mind was spinning.  “Largely ceremonial?”

“You would have the right to commandeer any command position within the Empire’s military, if the life of the Empress, my mother, is at stake.  Other than that, it would not be any more than your duties as an Element of Harmony.”

“I…” Emberglow gulped.  “Can I think about it?”

A look of impatience flashed across the Princess’ face.  It was gone in an instant, replaced by a mask of cool serenity.  “Of course you may.  But don’t think long.”  Her eyes studied Emberglow sharply.  “These appointments do serve another purpose.  By raising you to the ranks of nobility, and granting you a unique title, I am able to place the Elements of Harmony in a position of influence in the imperial government.  It will be much simpler to involve you in the coming councils as we prepare for war.”

“War?”

“May I?” Lightning cut in politely, and the princess waved a hoof in permission.  “Open conflict between the Empire and the Diarchy is bound to happen, at this point.  The Elements are being found.  Something has to change.  And if what Sir Heartwing tells us is correct, the likeliest place to find the Element of Magic is the capital itself.  It seems naïve to think we can get out of this without some form of fighting.” She was watching the princess as she spoke.  “I’ve been down south, near the shield wall.  Making preparations for the inevitable.”

“We can talk about that later,” the princess said quickly.  “But she is right.  Conflict may be unavoidable, whatever I may wish.  Though I wish for the Elements to lead the way.  And that means, both symbolically and literally, placing all of you in positions of influence.”

“What about Heartwing?  And Lofty and Terminus?”

“Heartwing is…” Princess Flurry’s mouth turned down in distaste.  “Well.”

“As per their arrangement, Sir Heartwing has been placed in provisional command of the Empire’s armed forces.  Under the princess, of course,” Lightning supplied, and Princess Flurry grimaced.  “It was the only way we could convince Guard Captain Onyx Edge not to resign.  Which makes sense.  Captain Edge is loyal and dedicated, but the attack clearly showed that the Imperial military lacks practical experience.  Heartwing is perfect for the job.”

Lightning was watching the Princess nervously the entire time she spoke.  Emberglow could see why; at every mention of Heartwing’s name, Princess Flurry flinched.  Her eyes narrowed when she noticed the scrutiny.

“I’ll be fine, ponies,” the Princess sighed.  “It will take time for me to fully accept him.”

“Believe me, I know what you mean,” Rarity said.  “If you need to talk about it…”

“I’ll let you know,” Princess Flurry turned away to face the window, and the still form of the alicorn in the hospital bed across the room.  She gave a small shiver, then turned back.  “Sorry.  I don’t mean to be rude.  I will take you up on that, Rarity.”  She sighed.  “I must be going.  There are logistics to oversee, if the Empire is to… mobilize.”  The last word was laced with disgust.  “There is one final matter, though.  I would like to assign you an assistant, and a guard.  If she’s willing.”

“Much more now than I was before I came here,” Lighting said.  “If you’ll have me.”

“Lightning Bug can manage your daily schedules and help you understand what your new titles will mean for you. Lightning, I’d also like you to fill them in on what you’ve been up to down at the shield’s edge.”  The princess managed a small smile.  “I have to return my younger student to his father, before a meeting with Heartwing and General Yuriko of the yaks.  But if you’re feeling up to it, Emberglow, I would love to have all of you present at a private dinner.  Just the Elements, Rarity, myself and my mother.  And my students, of course.”

“A quiet dinner sounds lovely, princess,” Rarity said after a nod from Emberglow.  “We’ll be there.”

The princess let her guards lead the way out of the infirmary after scooping True onto her back again, leaving Rarity, Emberglow, and Lighting behind. 

The ensuing silence was awkward.

“I-I really do hope you don’t mind me being around,” the young unicorn began, shuffling her hooves on the floor.  “I want to help.”

“As long as you don’t mind being around me.” Emberglow’s ears were pinned back, and she found she couldn’t meet Lightning’s eyes.

“Perhaps we should spend some time talking about our schedule?” Rarity said. 

“The Princess warned me that once she visited you here, Emberglow, the floodgates would probably open.  All sorts of ponies are going to want to come see you now that you’re awake.  That’s part of what my job’s going to be; as your personal secretary, I’ll help manage who gets access to the Crystal Empire’s newest heroes.”

Lightning’s words suddenly seemed as if from far away.  Words like nobility, secretary, hero, all floated through the fog that clawed at her mind.  It was too much, too fast.

“Emberglow?  Emberglow, darling?  Are you…?  Lighting, go fetch the doctor, I think she’s going to pass o…”


*   *   *   *   *


Between Doctor Heartthrob’s iron-hoofed rule of the infirmary and Lightning Bug’s talent for time management, Emberglow had the rest of the afternoon to recover.

“We can understand feeling overwhelmed, darling,” Rarity said.  “We'll take this as slowly as you need to.  We can even skip the dinner tonight, if you’d like.”

“No.  No, I want to be up and moving around,” Emberglow said. “It was just… too much to deal with all at once.”

“You just woke up after weeks in a coma, from being stabbed and poisoned.  You’re allowed to relax, if you like.”

“But ponies want to…”

“Other ponies can wait,” Lighting chimed in.  “You can let Rarity here handle any official business, if you like.”

“I’m fine.  I think I can handle a little business.  If we take things slowly, like you said.”

The first order of business, as it turned out, were the ponies-at-arms.  Several guardsponies had volunteered, with Princess Flurry’s blessing.  After that there was a conversation about the land holdings that the Princess had donated to both of their new noble houses.

Taken one at a time, Emberglow didn’t feel so inundated.  It didn’t hurt that Rarity seemed so eager and excited about all of this.  She had a way of bringing energy to a room.

After they’d discussed a possible press conference for the next day, Rarity finally had to call a halt to the whole thing.  “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for more official matters later, Lightning, but Emberglow and I have a dinner to attend, and I’m not letting my marefriend go in a hospital gown and bedhead.”

“Oh!  Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” Lightning said.  “Um.  Until you sort out a schedule with your guards, I am tasked with your safety.  I’ll be just outside the clinic if you need me.”

As soon as she’d stepped out the door, Emberglow turned a worried gaze on Rarity.  “Um, I’m not sure I have the energy to put a lot of effort into getting dressed tonight, so…”

Rarity was already waving a hoof.  “Say no more, darling.  A familiar and comforting robe and a bit of mane brushing is all I’ll ask.”  She paused.  “Would you let me brush your mane and tail?”

“S-sure.”

Emberglow held back the urge to hide as Rarity followed her into the bathroom.  Even after everything they’d done together, there was an intimacy to the situation that made her nervous.

“Now, you wash up and I’ll take care of your mane and tail, hmm?” Rarity beamed at her, and Emberglow felt her face heat up.  She didn’t trust herself to speak out loud, so she nodded, and trotted over to the sink.

The infirmary bathroom was small, but still wide enough so that if a patient needed help there could be another pony there to assist.  There was a small tub next to the sink and toilet, complete with the assistance bars a wounded pony might need to lower themselves into and out of the tub.

“Do you need help washing?” Rarity asked, a gentle flush of her own spreading on her cheeks.

“I’m not that weak,” Emberglow protested, and Rarity laughed.

“Perhaps I was offering for more reasons than just to be helpful.”

Emberglow gulped and nodded.  “Um.  I-I’d love some help, then.”

As much as they wanted, though, they couldn’t do much more than flirt and clean in the tub.  Emberglow was grateful for the closeness, though, and for the bit of intimacy they managed, reveling in the closeness and in the soft touch of Rarity’s hooves. When they were done, Rarity helped Emberglow into a fresh robe before settling her on a bed.  Emberglow watched as a brush floated over in Rarity’s blue glow, relaxing into the plush mattress as Rarity began to run it through her mane.

“I don’t remember the last time I had somebody else brush my mane and tail,” she said softly, and Rarity hummed.

“We’ll have to do this more often, then.  Now relax, close your eyes, and just let me take care of you, darling.”

Emberglow did just as she was told.
> Chapter 56
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 56


Official Declaration of War, Crystal Empire, 1113 AF

Last month, in the midst of a peaceful legal hearing, representatives of the rogue government known as the ‘Holy Equestrian Diarchy’ knowingly and openly attacked several of our citizens unprovoked.  They were armed with weapons of war, as well as poisons, and they attempted to assassinate several of our leaders.

Though their attempts to take the lives of our leaders failed, they caused injury and death among our citizenry.  The perpetrator of this attack was none other than the ambassadorial party, invited into our city and our palace under the guise of diplomatic peace.

Our evidence suggests that the attack was ordered by one Steadfast Word and the Knights Mystic.

This shameful and honorless act forces us to respond.  Know that we undertake military action against our southern neighbors only with the most careful of considerations regarding the consequences on both sides.

If the Diarchy wishes to avoid open conflict, we require the following:

The Diarchy must surrender to us Steadfast Word, as well as any others who have conspired with him to attempt to murder our beloved Empress.

The Diarchy must abandon their series of forts and military installations set alongside our southern border.

The Diarchy must immediately cease all naval patrols in the Northern Equestrian Sea.

The Diarchy must disband the Knights Mystic immediately. 

If these actions are not met, the Empire will take military action to achieve them.

Signed,

Empress Mi Amore Cadenza

Princess Flurry Heart

Queen Chrysalis V and King Pharynx III

Chief Yasmina

Alpha Fidelius the Flocculent

President Pro Tempore Jurist Prudence

Crystal Empire, 1113 AF

There was a difference between knowing one was a hero, and experiencing the consequences.  Emberglow kept wanting to duck behind Rarity as she walked through the halls of the Crystal Palace, her tail swishing with agitation at each new soldier or maid who passed them by, staring in awe or even whispering behind their hooves.  A few were even brave enough to stammer a few words of adoration or gratitude.

Rarity, of course, took it all in stride, even preening a little at the attention.  Emberglow just wanted to hide, some part of her insisting she wasn’t worthy.

“Don’t worry, darling, there won’t be any of that at the dinner.”

“I hope not.”

“They’re sure to be rather happy to see you though, dear.  So be ready for that.”

They were.  As soon as the door burst open, a cheer went up from the assembled ponies.  Terminus and Heartwing waved one hoof each in the air, their other hooves entwined around each other.  True bounced up and down on Lofty’s back while Topaz beamed.  Princess Flurry and Empress Cadance were both exemplars of serene celebration, and even Lighting Bug was giving a bit of a smile.

Emberglow was glad, though, that they didn’t stand up from the table and crowd her.  She was still feeling a little claustrophobic after the revelation in the clinic, and the extra space was nice.

She didn’t step away from Rarity, though.

“Thanks, guys,” she told them, even blushing as Rarity’s blue aura pulled a chair out from the table for her.  “I’m glad to be awake.”

“We’re glad you’re feeling better,” Topaz said.

“So what’s happened while I’ve been comatose?”

Heartwing gave a chuckle.  “Can’t tell you.  The Princess extracted a solemn oath from all of us that we’re not gonna talk business at this dinner.  This is all about celebrating your recovery.”

Emberglow sat, and Rarity helped her slip the chair into the table.  It felt a little odd, being catered to that way, but she tried to graciously let it happen.  She still felt a little weak, and thinking about her currently impotent wings made her breathing quicken.

Maybe it was okay to be attended to every once in a while.

“Um,” Emberglow said, looking out at the spread before her.  Rarity had played the dinner up as something light and casual, but the table was piled high with a feast.  It was a little overwhelming.  “Would it be okay if we talked a little business?  I’m tired of not quite knowing what’s going on.”

Heartwing actually looked to Princess Flurry for permission, before continuing.  “War, Emberglow.  Steadfast Word tried to have Empress Cadance and Princess Flurry assassinated.  By a diplomat, no less.  The Empire has declared war against the Diarchy.  Meanwhile, the embassy has been raided, and messages sent to our—” he smirked, and Princess Flurry flinched.  “What?  I’m your loyal soldier now, Princess. It is fair to say ‘our’, right?”  He gave an uncomfortable chuckle and continued.  “Messages sent to our embassy in NCC have hopefully arrived ahead of the Mystic black bag squad, so Ambassador Ruby Blade and his staff can evacuate safely.”

“I hope so,” Topaz said worriedly.  “Ambassador Blade was so kind and helpful.  He’s the reason we were able to get in touch with the Intelligence Service, rescue True, and escape the city.”

“The twins assure me their changelings will do all they can to get our embassy staff to safety,” Princess Flurry said.  “But I’d prefer to move on to more pleasant topics.  Such as whether or not our brand-new Marchionesses have chosen House names for themselves.”

“Belle,” Rarity said immediately, and Heartwing’s face split in a massive grin as he clapped his hooves together in approval.  “House Belle.  I… I thought it appropriate.”

“Very much so, Marchionesses Belle,” Cadance whispered into the reverent silence that followed.  “She was a good pony, and you do her honor.”

“Well, I just thought, if we are choosing a family name, that it would make sense.”  She cleared her throat.  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to cast a shadow on the mood.  We are meant to be celebrating Emberglow’s recovery, after all.”

“H-hey, if this is my party, then I get to pick how we celebrate, right?” Emberglow said.  “And it’s okay with me if we celebrate family.”  She raised her glass.  “So maybe we should have a toast or something.  Um, to our families?  To Sweetie Belle?”

“Yes,” Rarity said.  “And to your parents, who I very much hope to meet someday.”

“To a pair of grandmothers, who have been eternally patient with their fool of a descendant,” Topaz said, with a sheepish sort of grin at the Princess and Empress.

“To my son,” Lofty added quietly.

“To the families we choose,” Terminus said, his eyes misty, and Heartwing leaned over to kiss him.

The assembled ponies raised their glasses in tribute.


*   *   *   *   *


Needle Point Textiles was a smoking ruin.  Broken glass and shattered ponnekins spilled out onto the cobbled street.  The flickering of flames from inside illuminated the smoke-filled night.  There was a new sign in the broken window.  It was only four words, written in flowing calligraphy: ‘Betrayal, betrayal, and betrayal.’

Mom!  Dad!

Emberglow’s mouth moved, but no sound came out.  It was like she was swimming, flailing, drowning.  Her limbs moved slowly, like she was trying to drag them through honey.  Her throat felt full.  She tasted bile.

Mom!  Dad!  Are you in there?

Her voice sounded like it was coming from miles away, as did the bell that was already sounding in the distance.

Emberglow ran, dragging her hooves through the molasses that was the air about her.  Every step was a marathon of effort, but still she pushed forward.

Mom!  Dad!  Are you safe?

“DID YOU CARE ABOUT THEM WHEN YOU KISSED HER?”

The voice shook the ground, and drove Emberglow to her stomach.

“DID YOU CARE ABOUT THEM WHEN YOU TOUCHED HER?

Each word sent a sharp spasm of pain deep into her brain, straight down her spine.  She screamed in agony.

“DID YOU THINK ABOUT THEM WHEN YOU SLEPT WITH HER?”

I—

“SHAME AND DIS—”

The bell chimed again, and the broken street was bathed in moonlight.  Emberglow blinked.  Once.  Twice.

A dream. No, a nightmare.

“Topaz?” Emberglow called out, looking up at the moonlight.  “Topaz, are you here?”

Topaz stepped out from the ruins of the store, even as the horrific dreamscape began to fade from view.  She ran over to Emberglow and pulled her into a quick hug.

“You’re getting better at recognizing bad dreams, even if you’re still having them,” Topaz said.  “C’mon, let’s get out of your own head, hm?  Lofty says he wants to talk to us in his dream, and I said I’d collect everypony for him.”  She waved a hoof, and a door appeared in the middle of the street.  “Shall we?”

“Sure.”  Emberglow opened the door, stepping through to the now-familiar metaphysical road full of doors.

“You know, I hope you don’t mind me saying, Emberglow.  But as Elements, have you noticed that we’re each a bit of a mess?”

It wasn’t exactly a revelation.  “Your point?”

“We should start doing dream meetings regularly.  Group therapy sessions, if you agree.”

“Is that what you have planned for tonight?” Emberglow asked. 

Topaz shook her head as she searched for a particular door. “No.”  She pursed her lips.  “Lofty is planning something.  And he won’t tell me what.”

“Oh.” Emberglow had some thoughts, but she knew she shouldn’t say them out loud.  Topaz narrowed her eyes and leaned in.

“You know something.”

“No, I don’t!” Emberglow squeaked, and Topaz laughed.

“You’re a terrible liar, Emberglow.  Whatever it is, is it good?” Emberglow pursed her lips and nodded.  “I can wait, then.”  Topaz laughed again.  “Here’s Lofty’s door.  Keep him from getting into too much trouble until I can collect the others, okay?”  She opened the door, a strong, thick apple wood door with iron bands, and Emberglow stepped through.

The dream inside was of an apple orchard.  The details were stunningly good; Emberglow could smell the freshly turned earth and the apples.  An autumn breeze brushed past the yellowing leaves, causing a pleasant shiver to ruffle her fur.  In the distance, she could see a faint wisp of smoke.  She moved towards it.

Lofty Tale was sitting quietly next to a small campfire.  He looked up as she approached.

“I think Topaz believes you are up to something, Lofty,” Emberglow said.

Lofty grinned.  “Probably because I am.  It’s tonight, Emberglow.”

Emberglow looked around at the cloud-speckled sky, the orchard, even the rustic looking farmhouse and barn in the distance.  She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her muzzle.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“I’ve been looking into my genealogy, recently.  The Empire’s records are incredible.  I was able to connect the dots with some of the Tale ancestors and trace things all the way back to Ponyville.”  He waved a hoof wide.  “This place doesn’t exist any longer.  But it’s in my past.  A part of me that I never knew about until I came here.”  

He went silent, and Emberglow strained her ears for a moment; it was as if she could hear the sounds of living things all through the orchard, the creaking of trees and the chirping of songbirds.  There was a reverence here, and Emberglow felt the sudden need to leave this holy place to the ghosts and memories of the past.

The moment passed, though, and Emberglow heard a smattering of voices from back within the trees.  She turned to see Terminus and Heartwing approaching, side by side.  Heartwing shared a knowing look and a smirk with Lofty, while Terminus let out an actual squeak of glee and flapped over to give Lofty a quick hug.

“So, we’re here to witness?”

“Yes, but don’t spill the beans to Topaz.  I think she’s still in the dark.”

“We shall be on our best behavior,” Heartwing said, and shrank against three quelling gazes.  “What?”

“You will be silent, Sir Heartwing, or we’ll have words when we get back to our own dreams.”  Terminus had steel in his voice, and Heartwing shivered.  Emberglow’s giggle broke through the stallion’s aura of menace, though.

“So Topaz is going to try to bring Rarity, too?” Heartwing guessed. 

Lofty nodded.  “She helped make this happen.  Once I made the connection to this place, I had to ask for details.”  He looked at Emberglow.  “While we waited for you to wake up, I had several conversations with her about my ancestors. 

There was another set of voices approaching, and Emberglow’s heart beat a little faster upon hearing the cadence of Rarity’s musical voice.

“Emberglow, darling!” Rarity rushed to her side.  “Topaz said you were having another nightmare.  I would have woken you myself, but you stopped thrashing about.”

“I’m fine, Rarity.”

“Well, you are now,” Rarity said, enfolding her in a hug.  Emberglow giggled.

There was a shift in the dreamscape, and Emberglow gasped as the sun slid through the sky, before slowing down just enough to paint the sky in corals and oranges.  Emberglow glanced at Lofty, who shrugged and smirked.

Each pony took up spots around the campfire, cuddling up next to their partners while they basked in the comforting heat of the flames.  Lofty gently leaned down to kiss the now-present Topaz before standing to address them all. 

“I know I probably interrupted some lovely dreams and some pleasant sleep, so thank you for coming tonight.”  Lofty hadn’t sounded this nervous to Emberglow since their last night as pages.  “Um.  I know some of you might be wondering where we are.  Well, Rarity’s not, at least.”

“It’s a very faithful recreation, darling,” she said proudly.

“Yes.  And thank you for your help.”  He cleared his throat nervously.  “As some of you know, I’ve been doing a lot of research lately.  Trying to understand my roots, where I came from.  Rarity has been a great deal of help, as well as Heartwing and the Empress.”  He waved a hoof at the trees around them.  “The Tales weren’t always nobleponies.  We didn’t leech off of society, we contributed.  But back then, we were called the Apples.  And this was our orchard.

“Earlier, we were all making our toasts about family.  I’m here today because I chose family over everything else.  I…” he glanced around, rubbing his hooves nervously together.  “I want to keep making that choice.  You are all my family, now.  Honorary Tales, for what that’s worth.  And I wanted you all here, in my family’s old home, to be a part of the next piece of my family’s history.”

He furrowed his brow in concentration.  “I’m… I’m not saying this right.  I’ve been thinking about this for weeks, but if this weren’t a dream I’d be sweating and stuttering.  I… uh…”

But Emberglow wasn’t sure that too many words were needed.  Topaz was weeping openly, even though her smile reached from ear to ear.  She was practically trembling with joy.

“I guess I’m not the best at subtlety, so I should just get to the point, right?”  He reached behind himself, retrieving a box that Emberglow was sure hadn’t been there before.  “Topaz Glitter, I…”

“YES, I WILL!” Topaz squealed, bouncing up on her hooves.  When everypony stared at her, she giggled, turning pink.  “Um, I mean, yes, Lofty?”  Everypony chuckled.

Lofty smirked and cleared his throat.  “Topaz, will you marry me?”


*   *   *   *   *


After the proposal, everypony had made a discrete exit to their own dreams.  Emberglow’s sleep had been peaceful, and when she awoke she was curled up in the best way possible, wrapped around her marefriend.  Their bed smelled of Rarity and love, and Emberglow buried her nose in Rarity’s mane for a few moments.

Emberglow had noticed she had a tendency to wake up before Rarity, something borne over from her years of study at both med school and the Ivy Seminary.  She had also noticed that Rarity was not exactly a morning pony.

She was finding it just a little bit of fun to tease her on that front.

Emberglow curled her wings and hooves around her marefriend, leaning forward to kiss and nibble along Rarity’s neck, just enough that Rarity started making sleepy grunts and protests.

“Darling, not before coffee,” Rarity complained, causing Emberglow to giggle and kiss her more.  Finally Rarity groaned, rolling over to shove her away gently, though even in the pre-dawn light Emberglow could see the sparkle of amusement in her eyes.  “Oh very well, you tyrant.  I’m awake.”

“Good morning.” Emberglow felt a little giddy, and leaned in to kiss her yet again.  Rarity let out a laugh despite herself.

“If you’d warned me you were a morning pony before we got together, I would have…” Rarity mock-scowled.  “Well, I would have changed nothing, of course.”  She yawned, and rubbed her eyes before snuggling back against Emberglow.  “That was fun, wasn’t it?  And so kind of Lofty to want to include all of us.”

“You helped him with the dream?”

“As much as I could, darling.  I don’t have Topaz’ dreamwalking talents, so I couldn’t go in and help him form the dreamscape directly.  I could only describe the orchard, and help him find some of the pictures that remain in the Crystal Library.”

“It wasn’t… too much for you?” Emberglow said carefully.  Rarity was thoughtfully silent for a few moments, her face hidden in Emberglow’s chest.

“It was a little difficult, yes.  But the sacrifice was well worth it, for romance.” Rarity sighed with contentment.  “Did you see the look in her eyes?  It was wonderful.”

“So…” Emberglow blushed thinking of it.  “I wonder if Princess Flurry is going to be babysitting True all day today.”

Rarity took a moment to think about it, then shook with laughter.  “How naughty, Emberglow.  But I wouldn’t be surprised.  The dears deserve some time to themselves.”

“So…” Emberglow wanted to stay in bed and cuddle forever.  But she was already starting to feel guilty about not moving; there were things to be done.  “What’s on our schedule for today?”

“Lightning has arranged a press conference for you just before lunch,” Rarity said, and began to stroke Emberglow’s back as soon as she stiffened.  “Don’t worry, I will be there with you the whole time.  The press simply wishes to acquaint themselves with the same dashing heroine that I’ve come to know and love.”

She must have made a sound of some sort, a whimper, because Rarity pulled her embrace tighter.  “Remember the conversation we had back in Nyumba ya Joka?  Just put on a costume of confidence.  And if you start to panic, simply squeeze my hoof.”

“Is our schedule free before the press conference?” Emberglow asked.

“I think Lightning wanted to brief us about the subjects we’re avoiding for now.  But that shouldn’t take too long.  What did you have in mind?”

“I…” Emberglow took a hard breath.  “I want to see Turquoise.  Do you think that’s okay?”

Now it was Rarity’s turn to go very silent.  Emberglow pulled back enough to look into her eyes, only to see the stricken expression there. 

“I don’t have to if you don’t think it’s a good idea!” Emberglow felt a surge of panic.  “It’s just—”

“N-no, it’s fine.”  Rarity gave a tremulous smile.  “It’s a good idea, even.  We’ll talk to Lightning Bug, see if she can arrange something.  It might have to be after the press conference, though.”  Rarity nuzzled her.  “I think it’s a good idea.  Just… probably not if I’m there with you, okay?  I’ll come if you need me, but something tells me your old friend won’t react well to my presence.”

“Oh!  Oh, yeah, you’re probably right.”  There was a part of Emberglow, the part that still believed in fairy tales and perfect happy endings, that wished there could be a way for all of her loved ones to accept Rarity, to accept who Emberglow was now.  It was a pipe dream, though.

Rarity sighed.  “As much as I would love to lounge about in your hooves all day long, we should get up.  Will you help me select your ensemble for the day, darling?  I promise we’ll find something that will really help you feel the part of the strong and daring ingenue.”

They showered, and Emberglow allowed Rarity to assemble her outfit for the day.  Flurry had provided them both with wardrobes more fitting of their newly noble statuses, and Rarity was able to assemble something suitable: a lavender and blue jacket and slacks that looked inspired by the Crystal Empire’s own guard uniform.

“You’re technically a part of their military now, even though they haven’t changed the Discordant uniform design at all,” Rarity reasoned.  “Still, you look wonderful in uniform, or even uniform-inspired clothing.”

For her part, Rarity picked a dress done up in sky blue to match Emberglow’s own outfit.  Emberglow loved the look of it, but she also realized she would probably love any sort of outfit, so long as Rarity was wearing it.

“Lightning did request that you wear your Element, too, darling,” Rarity said, as she buckled the torc around Emberglow’s neck.  “You don’t need to hide what you are anymore.”  It was true in more ways than one, and Emberglow actually smiled as she looked down at the gem on her chest.

They decided to take breakfast in Rarity’s suite; according to the kitchen staff who brought them food, Topaz and Lofty were indeed still celebrating their engagement, with True left in the care of the Princess.  Terminus and Heartwing were sleeping in, so that left Emberglow and Rarity to eat a quiet meal as a couple, before Lightning Bug arrived to brief them on the upcoming press conference.  The three mares sat in Rarity’s sitting room, idly finishing up their morning coffee while they spoke.

“There’s not much that’s off topic right now,” Lightning Bug said.  “Neither one of you have been briefed on any war plans yet, so don’t worry about saying something you shouldn’t.  We want the whole world to know the Elements are being found, that the united Bearers are going to set things right.”

“But what about the poison meant for Princess Flurry?  Surely we want to be discreet about that,” Rarity asked.

Lightning shook her head.  “I suggested as much to Princess Flurry.  But she wants to project strength and resilience, and pretending the attack didn’t happen will be counterproductive.  If you’re asked about the poison, though, I’d refer reporters to the official medical report that Heartthrob put out.”

“There was one other thing, darling,” Rarity said.  “Emberglow would like to see Turquoise.  Perhaps after the press conference?”

Lightning stiffened.  “Um.  Yes, I guess.  Do you have to?”

“She was my friend.  I have to understand why.”

“Of course you do.”  Lightning sighed.  “It can’t hurt anything, really.  But maybe you shouldn’t bring up your connection to the assassin at the press conference, hm?  I’d rather not complicate things too much.  I’ll see what I can arrange.”  She paused.  “Princess Flurry did want to meet with you all after lunch, so we may have to push it further into the evening, if that’s okay.”

“We’re not getting in the way of your afternoon schedule, are we?” Rarity asked, and Lightning shook her head.

“Your schedule’s pretty clear because Emberglow’s still recovering.  You’re fine, I’ll set it up.  Oh, that reminds me.  Doctor Heartthrob asked me to give you this.”

It was an envelope with instructions for physical therapy, as well as a new eyepatch that Emberglow was supposed to wear over her good eye, for at least two hours a day if possible.  There were also wing exercises she was supposed to do, to stimulate the regeneration of her thaumic nerves.  She skimmed the instructions briefly, before looking at the eyepatch and noticing Rarity’s lips purse with distaste.

“Something wrong?”

“It’s just so… bland and practical,” Rarity replied, eyeing the black eyepatch.  “I suppose it will do for now, but I’ll see what I can do to spice it up a bit.”

“Some of the pirates I ran with used to paint scary eyes on their eyepatches,” Lightning said, her eyes distant.  Rarity snorted, staring at her in horror.  “What?  It was just for fun.”

“Right.  I can assure you we will not be painting on any scary eyes,”  Rarity said firmly.

“If you insist,” Lightning laughed.  Her cheer felt a little strained, but Emberglow still felt heartened that Lightning was doing her best to be friendly.  “C’mon, I’ll show you to the venue.”

There were two uniformed guards outside Rarity’s room, both wearing the blue-and-purple armor of the Empire guard and carrying spears, though they looked like they’d never seen combat.  However, each one bore an additional decoration: the frill on their helmets seemed brand new, dark violet on one side and red on the other.

“Lady Rarity!  Lady Emberglow!” The guards saluted.  “Good morning!”

“Emberglow, this is Iron Shod and Crossguard, two of the ponies who have volunteered to be a part of our guard.  In lieu of either of our personal livery, though, which we haven’t exactly designed yet, I thought you’d appreciate the minor cosmetic adjustment we made.”

Personal guards.  Wearing her colors.  Emberglow wasn’t sure about that, but there was something nice about having her mane color joined with Rarity’s on her own guards.

“Nice to meet you both.”  She cursed herself for how awkward it sounded.  “Um, sorry, I’m not used to having guards.”

“Nothing to worry about, Lady Emberglow,” The crystal pony guard with steel-grey fur and a white mane said.  Emberglow assumed this one was Iron Shod.  “We’ll do our best to be as unobtrusive as possible.  But Lady Rarity and Princess Flurry both take your safety very seriously.”

“You should know, we volunteered because of you,” the other said.  She was a crystal pony as well, and her white coat had the sort of metallic shimmer that only the crystal ponies could seem to manage.  “I’m sure it’s overwhelming, having other ponies see you as a hero like this.  But it doesn’t change what you did.  All us who volunteered are grateful.”

“Let us know if there’s anything we can do to make this easier for you, though,” Iron Shod chimed in.  “I know you’re new up north, so along with Miss Lightning Bug, any of your guards are happy to fill you in on anything you need to know about the Empire.”

“That…” Emberglow was starting to feel anxious.  “That would be helpful, yes.”

“Of course, Lady Emberglow.  We’re here to serve, so let us know if there’s anything else we can do to make all this easier on you.”

“She will be going to see the assassin, later,” Lightning abruptly said.  Both guards very suddenly adopted a professional stoniness.  “I’d feel better if she were accompanied by some guards.”

“As would I,” Rarity chimed in.  Both guards nodded.

“We’ll make sure you have an escort, Lady Emberglow,” Crossguard said.

“Meanwhile,” Lightning interjected.  “We should get going.  It’s nearly time.”

Emberglow decided to wear the eyepatch on the way to the conference, which meant leaning on Rarity the entire trip to the conference room.  This was done for purely therapeutic reasons, the two mares reassured each other while giggling.  It was certainly effective at distracting Emberglow from her anxiety about being surrounded by guards.  Emberglow could barely see more than colorful blurs, but Rarity’s constant presence at her side took away any of the nervousness of essentially walking around blind.

It all came back, though, when Emberglow heard the sheer volume of the crowd awaiting them.  Suddenly she was no longer content to merely accept the dizzying, colorful blur in front of her; she reached up and pulled off the blindfold to take in the entire crowd.  Iron Shod and Crossguard formed a gentle sort of wall in front of them, though the crowd seemed content with just making noise rather than pressing against them.

The stage and microphones were being set up at the head of a wide conference hall, complete with several chairs set up for the various reporters.  While it wasn’t as full as in her darkest imaginings, there were still several dozen creatures out there waiting for her arrival. 

There was a table with three small microphones at the front, as well as cups of water.  The guards took up position on either side of the table, while Emberglow, Rarity, and Lightning Bug found their seats.  Rarity took the center spot.

Lightning waited a few moments before leaning forward to the microphone.  “Hello?  Hello, every creature.  For those of you who don’t know, my name is Lightning Bug, personal student of Princess Flurry Heart.  She has asked me to hold this press conference. Marchionesses Rarity and Emberglow have graciously agreed to answer your questions about the regrettable attempt on the lives of our Princess and Empress.

“Now, all of you should have been provided with our press packet.  As much as possible, please refrain from asking these ladies questions covered in your packets.  Lady Emberglow is still recovering from her injuries and still requires medical care, so our time is limited today to allow her a chance to rest.  Also, they’re both new to our country, so please introduce yourself and tell us where you’re from when you’re asking questions, okay?”

Emberglow couldn’t help but be a little impressed.  Lightning Bug was younger than her; still a child, practically.  But she was speaking with confidence, and the members of the press that sat in front of them were listening intently and nodding at her words.  Perhaps part of it was because of whose student she was, but Emberglow thought it had more to do with the way Lightning carried herself.  She was reminded of what Rarity had said before they’d left their room.  She took a breath, sat up in her seat, and tried her best to emulate the younger pony as the first reporter stood up to ask a question.

“Igor is Igor, Yakyakistan Register.  Igor would like to know how Lady Emberglow’s recovery is progressing.  Perhaps Lady Emberglow would elaborate on the patch she was wearing when she came into the room?”

 “U-uh, sure,” Emberglow stammered, glancing at Rarity, who smiled encouragingly.  “I’m feeling well, thank you for asking.  I was in a coma for several days, and I only woke up recently.  The poison in the blade was designed to overload the thaumic nerve clusters of a pony…” Emberglow trailed off, unsure whether or not anypony would be interested in the medical science behind what had happened.

“The specifics of the poison, and how it works, is in your press packets,” Lightning said helpfully.

“Oh.  Um.  Well, since it wasn’t designed to hurt me, specifically, there were some unintended side effects.  I was still nearly killed, but the poison had some odd effects on an old injury.”  She pointed to the scarring around her eye.  “I lost the use of my eye several months ago during a battle with Diarchy Knights.  The poison has, surprisingly enough, caused my eye to heal itself somewhat.  Doctor Heartthrob doesn’t think I’ll regain full vision, but I’m doing some physical therapy to get back as much as I can.”

Another reporter stood up.  “Headline Ink, Capital Central Press.  We’ve all heard the story about how the marchionesses saved our Empress and our Princess. But we know very little about Lady Rarity besides the old legends, and even less about Lady Emberglow.  Would either of you mind filling us in on how you came to our empire?”

“That’s…” Emberglow paused.  “Um, that’s a long story.  The short version is, I was a loyal Diarchy Knight until fairly recently.  Heartwing, the grand master of the Discordant, helped me see that I’d been lied to, and along the way we discovered Rarity trapped behind a stasis spell that had kept her in a state of suspended animation.  Since then, we have been looking for the Elements of Harmony and their bearers.”

The next was a female changeling, with a colorful pink and sky-blue carapace.  “Tarsomere, Empire Public Radio.  Lady Emberglow, Lady Rarity.  Can you fill us in on what role the Elements of Harmony will be playing in the upcoming conflict?”

Emberglow and Rarity exchanged a look, and finally Rarity answered.  “The fact of the matter is, they don’t know yet.  When we were in the cave where I’d been sleeping in stasis, we made contact with the spirit of the Tree of Harmony, who asked us to restore harmony to all of Equestria.  The Elements are a key part of that quest, but we don’t know how it ends yet.”

The next several questions were along the same vein, and Emberglow was impressed at how gracefully Rarity was able to say ‘I don’t know’.  Between her social acumen, and Lightning’s timely interruptions when things got awkward, the press conference went much better than she’d feared.  Some of the questions were even a pleasure to answer, such as the gossip columnist who wanted to know all about the rumors that Emberglow and Rarity had been seen kissing and cuddling in public.  It all went smoothly, at least until the end.

“Moss Agate, Crystal Communicator.  Miss Emberglow, please forgive me if this is a painful subject.  But you’ve told us you used to serve the Diarchy.  Did you know the ambassador before she tried to assassinate the princess?”

A spasm of panic seized her chest, and she darted a glance at Lightning.  Lightning had said they weren’t going to bring it up, but they hadn’t mentioned what to say if somepony asked it on their own.  Lightning smiled gently, and Rarity reached over to pat her with one hoof.  She steadied herself and tried to keep her voice even.  There was no chance of downplaying things now, after her reaction.

Who do you care about?  Maybe you’re just embarrassed to have your own dirty laundry aired in front of all of these strangers. 

“I did know her, actually,” Emberglow said.  There was a sort of charged-lightning tension that zapped over the crowd of reporters; the buzz of activity silenced until she was very uncomfortably aware, once again, of dozens of eyes on her.  She pushed forward.  “She… we were actually very close.  She was my mentor, when I was a squire.  We hated each other at first.  She thought I was a burden, and I thought she was a tyrant.”  This wasn’t exactly what the reporter had asked, but once Emberglow started talking she found it hard to stop.  “It didn’t take long for us to realize we had a great deal to learn from each other.  I even helped her in her life’s work: opening diplomatic relations with your own Empire.

“She was there on my very first mission — chasing pirates in the ocean between the Diarchy and Zebrica.”  Emberglow very deliberately didn’t look at Lightning; in fact, she kept her eyes down, locked on the table and the microphone in front of her.  “We were teacher and student, and then we were comrades-in-arms.  We fought side by side, and grew even closer.  When our assignments took us in different directions, we tried to keep in touch by letter.

“I lost track of her when I switched sides, of course.”  Emberglow didn’t know when she’d started crying.  “She had no idea I had… that I was…”  She gave a shuddering breath.  “She didn’t know.  I think… I think the grief might have…”

“I’m sorry, I think we might need to stop here,” Lightning cut in.  “Emberglow is still recovering, of course.  If there are any other questions, feel free to get in touch with me via letter.  I’d be happy to pass them on to the marchionesses.”

So fragile.  So broken.  So useless. 

The relief of Lightning ending the conference early was almost washed away entirely by the wave of guilt.


*   *   *   *   *


“Do you know much about how the prisoner has been treated?” Emberglow asked carefully.  Both Rarity and Lightning had reacted with concern when Emberglow had asked to go see Turquoise, but neither seemed to want to talk about it.

“I know she’s been treated fairly, Lady Emberglow.”  Crossguard walked just ahead of her, guiding her through the crystal hallways.  “The Empire doesn’t torture prisoners.”  There was a hint of pride in the crystal pony’s voice as she said so.

“I wouldn’t wish that on anypony,” Emberglow whispered, and Crossguard paused long enough to look at her.  Emberglow saw the pity in her eyes, and it stung.

Broken.  Useless.  The scars heal, but the fear stays forever.

“I-if you don’t mind, I would like to hear more about the criminal justice system here,” Emberglow said.  It was true she was interested in learning more about the differences, but she’d asked mostly to fill the silence, to distract herself.  “What are your prisons like?”

“Our justice system focuses more on rehabilitation than retribution,” Crossguard began.  “Prison terms are usually temporary until the criminal can go before a judge.  There are sentences for violent offenders, but it’s rare.  Your… the former ambassador is being held in the palace cells.  I don’t know how long she’ll be there.”  She sounded grim.

“I’m sorry,” Emberglow whispered, and Crossguard stopped again, a look of confusion on her face.  “Um.  She was my friend.  I probably shouldn’t be worried about her, she almost killed your princess.”

Crossguard gave a little laugh.  “Sorry, Lady Emberglow?  Why?  It’s not your fault she did what she did.  And you were the one who stopped her.”

“So nopony…” Emberglow began, then trailed off.

“Blames you?” Crossguard guessed.  Emberglow flinched, and the guard reached out for a moment with one hoof, before pulling it back.  “Um, Lady Emberglow?  Permission to speak candidly?”

“Sure.”

“My lady, you can’t be blaming yourself for this, can you?” Crossguard scoffed.  “It’s silly, if you ask me.  She made her choices, you made yours.”

“One thing you should know, if you end up working with me for a while,” Emberglow said sardonically.  “Guilt isn’t always rational.  Sometimes it makes no sense.  That doesn’t change how it feels.”

“Oh.”  Crossguard seemed to struggle to process this for a few moments.  “Um.  Permission to hug, then?”

“Sure,” Emberglow said with a laugh, and the guard leaned over to give her a quick hug.

“We haven’t known you for long, ma’am, but we all already care about you and Lady Rarity.  I can’t imagine what sorts of things you had to go through to get here, but anything we can do to make it easier, just let us know.”

“I will.”  Emberglow paused.  “Um.  Thanks for coming with me.  It can’t be comfortable for any of you.  Seeing her.”

“It’s not,” Crossguard admitted.  “But we’re here for you.  I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

The cells were in the guard barracks, a wing of the palace Emberglow hadn’t been to yet.  The walls were the same purple crystals that made up the rest of the palace, but the decorations were more martial.  Several other guards moved through the hallways, either on their way to or from shifts.  While most were ponies, all the races of the Empire were represented.  Each of the guards nodded or bowed to Emberglow as she passed. 

Emberglow tried not to notice the attention by focusing on the decorations.  There were several paintings of the same unicorn: a white stallion with a mane in three different shades of blue.

“Who was he?” Emberglow asked, pointing to a particular painting of the stallion wearing armor very similar to the guards’.  He was posing heroically, his horn ablaze, firing off some sort of beam at an unseen foe.

“What?  Oh!  I guess you wouldn’t hear much about Shining Armor down south, huh?”  Crossguard paused.  “We learn about him in elementary school.  He’s the princess’ father.  The Empress’ husband.  You guys do know about Twilight Sparkle, right?  Shining Armor was her brother.”

“What… what was he like?”

“History says he was a hero, but there’s more to it than that,” Crossguard said.  “The stories say he was a patron of the arts.  Enjoyed fairy tales and foal’s stories.  Liked to play games with the younger ponies and other creatures.”  She walked up to the painting, resting a hoof on the wall underneath.  “He’s a symbol of balance for us soldiers, you know?  Between our duties and our normal lives.  If that makes sense.”

“I…” It wasn’t what Emberglow was used to, at least.  Knights were taught to be apart from normal life.  Only the Discordant had been different.

“C’mon, lemme show you,” Crossguard said, trotting further down the hallway until they found another painting.  “Here.”

The next picture was a photograph, blown up and framed on the wall like the various portraits.  It was the same stallion, though not in armor.  This time he sat at a table, alongside a large red earth pony and the same small dragon whose statue sat outside the palace.  Saint Rainbow and Saint Pinkamina were there as well, and all five were sitting around a table, playing some sort of board game with dice and miniature figurines.

“We’re supposed to remember that we’re normal ponies, and not just obedient drones,” Crossguard said, as Emberglow looked at the photograph.  “Even heroes are normal ponies, and they need all the same things normal ponies need.  Like support, friendship, love, fun.”  Crossguard wasn’t being subtle; she was eyeing Emberglow as she spoke.

“Thanks,” Emberglow said.  “I think I get it.”  Crossguard nodded solemnly. 

At the end of the barracks they came to a hallway blocked by an iron gate.  Two guards, a diamond dog and a pastel blue and yellow changeling, sat at a table near the gate.  They perked up as Crossguard and Emberglow approached.

“Marchioness Emberglow wishes to speak with the prisoner,” Crossguard said formally. 

“We received a note, yes,” the dog said, standing up.  “Have you been briefed on the security procedures?”

Emberglow shook her head.

“Okay.  So I’m going to have to search you before you can go in.  You can take your guard, but neither of you can have any weapons or anything like that.  I’m going to lock the door behind you, and you won’t gain access directly to the prisoner.  She’s behind another locked gate inside.  You’ll be able to talk to her and touch her through the bars, but I don’t recommend it.  Do not give anything to the prisoner unless it has been approved by us.  Anything you take from the prisoner, such as written letters, will also have to pass through us.  Any questions?”

“How is she?” Emberglow asked.

The dog blinked with confusion.  “Healing from her injuries during the attack.”  His voice was cold and stiff.  “In comfort.  Selflessly provided by the very goddess she tried to murder.”  The changeling guard cleared her throat, and the dog growled.  “Whatever.  Anyways, we’ll be just on the other side of this door.  We won’t listen in, but we’ll be in view, and we will be able to hear if you shout for help.”

“Thank you both,” Emberglow said.  “I’ll call if I need anything.”

“I’m going to search you both now, okay?” the changeling said.  “Lieutenant Crossguard, I’ll ask you to surrender any weapons here.”

“Of course,” Crossguard said, placing her spear down on the table before reaching into the boot of her armor, pulling out a long knife from a hidden sheath there.  The changeling smiled, before moving in to pat both of them down with her hooves.

“They’ve got nothing else,” she said, with a nod to Emberglow.  “And, uh, Lady Emberglow?  Thanks.”

Emberglow didn’t need to ask why the changeling was thanking her.  She could see it written all over the guard’s bright and eager eyes.

The diamond dog huffed and walked over to the gate, extracting a set of keys from his uniform and jingling them into the lock.  For some reason, Emberglow expected a rusty whine as the gate swung open, but it was silent, well oiled.

“The cells are empty except for the assassin’s,” he said.

“What about the other prisoners?” Crossguard asked.

“The former ambassador is the only one currently incarcerated here,” the changeling said.  “The other traitorous members of the embassy are being held at another location.”  She fell silent after that, casting a significant glance down the hallway.

“Makes sense,” Emberglow said.  Of course the conspirators would be separated.

“It’s not like she could do anything even if she were in touch with her flunkies,” the dog said.  When Emberglow looked at him quizzically, he shrugged.  “Well, have fun, I suppose.  Just let us know when you want out.  I’ll be locking the gate behind you.”

“Thank you,” Emberglow said.  She and Crossguard stepped through the gate to the long hallway, and the diamond dog closed it securely behind them.  Emberglow turned to look down the hallway, towards the rows of cells.

It didn’t look much different than the rest of the palace.  Emberglow shouldn’t have been surprised; it made sense to her that the crystal ponies dealt with their prisoners differently.  After all, she hadn’t expected some dark dungeon with crumbling stone and torture devices and such.  However, it was still a little shocking to see the same purple carpeting, the same bright lighting, and the same crystalline décor.

The cells only had walls on three sides; the fourth was a series of vertical and horizontal bars, complete with a solid metal door.  Every single cell was well furnished, with a comfortable looking bed, a writing desk, and even a table for meals.

It was certainly a far cry from a set of shackles in a dark tent.  Emberglow shuddered at the sudden surge of bitterness.

As expected, only one of the cells was occupied.  Emberglow’s heart ached to see the familiar figure of her friend, her mentor, her once-sister in Knighthood.  She’d expected bandages or glaring wounds, but she could only see a few stitches here or there.  What she didn’t expect, however, was the wheelchair attached to Turquoise’s hind hooves.

Turquoise had her back to them, though her ears perked at their hoofsteps.

“I’ve told you before.  You’re wasting your time.  I won’t answer any questions.”

“I’m not here to ask questions, Turquoise,” Emberglow said softly.

With a gasp, Turquoise’s head jerked around.  Her face was a roil of emotions, fury and heartbreak, longing and despair.  Clumsily, she reached out with one hoof to spin the wheel on her chair, rotating the entire contraption so she could face Emberglow and Crossguard.  She stared for a few moments, her expression spinning between a dozen emotions before finally landing on bitter anger.

“It’s you.  Come to see your slut’s handiwork first hoof?”

Emberglow stared and waited.  Waited for the guilt to overwhelm her, for the memories to drown her.

For the voices to come, to accuse, to damn, to condemn.

But there was nothing.

“I didn’t know you were injured,” Emberglow said.  It felt limp and numb.

“Oh?  Did you blink when your marefriend tossed me into a wall?” Turquoise shrieked.  It was a far cry from the simmering cold fury of a temper that Emberglow was used to during her squiring. 

“I don’t know, Turquoise.  That part’s a bit of a blur.”  Emberglow finally felt something.  “Perhaps it was the confusion of the fight.  Or maybe it was from the poison my friend stabbed me with!”

Turquoise shrank back, her gaze drifting to the floor.  “That… that wasn’t meant for you.”

Both mares felt silent.  Turquoise wouldn’t meet Emberglow’s eyes, and Emberglow wouldn’t drop hers.  For an eternity, the only sound was the mares’ breathing.

“Why did you come, Emberglow?” Turquoise finally began.  She turned her chair so that her body was in profile, her head turned away towards the back wall.  She sounded defeated.  “Why did you come, really?”

“Is it so hard to believe I wanted to check on you?  See how you were doing?”  Emberglow gulped.  “I wanted to make sure they were treating you well.”

“Imprisoned.  Confined to a wheelchair.  For the rest of my life, if the doctor who looked me over is right.”

“Maybe you should thank Saint Pinkamina that they’ve treated you so well,” Emberglow said, her resentment simmering.  “If the tables were turned, you wouldn’t have all this luxury.”

“Luxury?” Turquoise spat.  “And how dare you invoke her name, heretic.  What makes you think…”

“I was tortured, Turquoise,” Emberglow interrupted.  “By Steadfast.  For asking questions.  The wrong questions.  And he had no answers to give me.  Only pain.”

“Tortured?” The horror in her voice was genuine, and a small part of Emberglow was glad to see that even a small piece of Turquoise’s affection for her remained.  At least enough to feel bad that she’d been hurt.

“You never met Steadfast’s pet attack dog.  A Mystic named Brightblade.” Emberglow could see the twisted mix of curiosity and disgust on Turquoise’s face.  “He was quite good with a club.  He liked knives sometimes, too. And I  have some scars to show for it.”  She pointed to her damaged eye.  “I got this one escaping his hooves. Rarity helped me escape.  I’d be dead if not for her.  Either beaten to death by Brightblade, or twisting on a rope.”

“Because you betrayed the faith!” Turquoise snarled, but Emberglow was already violently shaking her head.

“No!  I had decided nothing, betrayed nothing yet.  It wasn’t until after Brightblade that the Discordant took me in.  They showed me love, and kindness, and acceptance.  They accept all of me, Turquoise.  Not like the Diarchy, or the other Orders.”

There was another silence.  This one dragged.  Emberglow spared a glance at her bodyguard; Crossguard was nearly invisible in her stoic silence, her eyes forward.  For a single second, she met Emberglow’s eye, and her professional mien softened with compassion before she once again returned to her ‘guard look’.

“How…” Turquoise began, then shook her head.  “Nevermind.  You have what you need, Emberglow.  You’ve stared at the cripple.  You can scurry back to your unicorn sl…”

“No.  You’re better than that, Turquoise.  I’m not going to listen to you slander Rarity.”

“How can you believe that?” Turquoise gaped at her.  “It’s clearly a lie.  A trick.  Something the Discordant cooked up to entrap you.  Lady Rarity was an earth pony, Emberglow.  And she’s been dead for a thousand years.”

“I investigated her myself, Turquoise.  I am convinced that the Rarity you have met is truly the same pony that walked with Saint Twilight.  You should hear her stories about the others, as well.  Did you know that Pinkamina preferred her nickname, Pinkie?”

Turquoise stared, openmouthed, and Emberglow had to hold back a small laugh.

“It turns out the real stories are even richer and more interesting than the ones we were told as children,” Emberglow continued.  Turquoise jerked her jaw closed and turned away.

“How… how did it happen?” she whispered finally. 

It was on the tip of Emberglow’s tongue to tell her the whole story.  To talk about Manehatten, the cave.  The tense month hiding in Lofty’s manor.  The desperate hope that sparked in her chest when she found Steadfast, the naive surety that he would somehow have answers to make this all make sense. 

But instead, there was only one thing she could say.

“Would you believe me if I told you?” Emberglow asked.  Turquoise huffed.  Emberglow decided to push, and the next words felt natural.  “If it was all a lie, if it was all made up, would you even want to believe me?  Would you want to know?”

It was the same thing Heartwing had asked her in the cave.  Emberglow had said yes.  It was the only answer an honest pony could make.  The truth should stand up to scrutiny.

Turquoise merely shook her head, her lips twisted with disgust, her eyes closed.  Everything about her was closed.  She sat back in her wheelchair and folded her forehooves in front of her, and a part of Emberglow broke.

“Okay.  Okay, Turquoise.”  She wiped at her eye with one hoof.  “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to hear it.”

“Your parents don’t know, do they?” Turquoise shot out bitterly.  “Do you want to talk about that?”

“You said as much,” Emberglow felt a dull hurt in her chest.  It wasn’t as bad as she’d expected.  “You said you wrote them.  Thank you for that.”

“Why do you even care?” Turquoise snorted.  “You abandoned them just like you abandoned all of your friends when you betrayed us all.”

It was just like before, when she’d run into Turquoise in the hallway.  But it didn’t sting like it did the last time.  There was the dull ache, of course.  But it felt distant.  Like it was locked in a cell, behind bars, sealed away.  “I don’t know if you’d understand.”  The hurt may be distant, but Emberglow felt so tired.  Like a part of her didn’t even want to try to explain it to Turquoise.

She’d tried not to think about her parents, though all of this.  But now she wondered what that conversation would be like.  Perhaps this was like a small preview, a hint of how things would go when she finally stood before them and tried to explain why she had done the things she had.

Fortunately, Turquoise broke the silence, interrupting Emberglow’s dark introspection.

“Why did you come, Emberglow?”  It was the same thing Turquoise had asked earlier.  “If you think you’re going to catch me up in whatever sick game the Discordant have trapped you in, you’re an idiot.”  She gave a cruel laugh.  “You’re here to recruit for him, is that it?”

“No,” Emberglow said.  “You’ve burned that bridge, Turquoise.”  Turquoise’s face scrunched up tightly, tears leaking out her clenched eyes.  “I don’t think the crystal ponies will be letting you out any time soon.”

“You might be surprised,” Crossguard cut in, and Turquoise jerked her tearstained eyes open in surprise.  “We’re not interested in punishing crime, or vengeance.  It’s not our way.  We seek only reformation, balance, and healing.  I don’t know what it would take for an oath breaker and assassin to be reformed, but there is always a path.”

“Oath breaker?” Turquoise hissed.

“You were supposed to be an ambassador, Turquoise,” Emberglow said.  “An agent of peace. You came here under the promise that you would be bringing diplomacy, and the teachings of the Saints.”  Turquoise stared at her, eyes wide with horror.  “You should have been the best example of what the Diarchy represents to these ponies.  That’s what you wanted.  That’s what we worked for, together.  It was your dream.  Your destiny, right?  And you tossed it away.  For what?”

“I didn’t want to,” Turquoise whispered.  Tears were flowing from her eyes.  “I never wanted to.”

“But you did anyway,” Emberglow pressed.  “You gave up your destiny.  For what?”

“Because you…” Turquoise made a strangled sort of noise.  “Because I didn’t have a choice!  Because Steadfast…”  Her eyes shot wide, and she snapped her jaws shut.

It wasn’t a big surprise, but it still stung.  Of course Steadfast was behind all of this.  It was his influence that had helped Turquoise get the traction she needed in order to open her embassy in the first place.

“You let Steadfast crush your dream, Turquoise.  When did his agenda become more important than your own?  Than the will of the Saints?”

But it was over.  Turquoise spun her wheelchair, turning her back on them, and buried her head in her forehooves.  She was sobbing, Emberglow saw.

She waited several minutes while her old friend shook and cried, but there was no more to the conversation forthcoming.

“I’ll visit again, if you don’t mind.  You are my friend, Turquoise, no matter what else happened.  I care about you.”  She sighed.  “I’m going to try to get permission to come back with a gauntlet.  I’d like to give a second opinion on your injury.  Maybe there’s something more that can be done.”

“What’s the point?” Turquoise muttered.

Emberglow partially agreed with her, but she still wanted to try.  With one last glance towards Turquoise, she turned to leave.  Crossguard followed behind in her wake.

The two of them approached the gate and Crossguard knocked.  The diamond dog looked through, carefully checking to make sure the prisoner was still safe in her cell before opening it.

“I hope you got what you needed,” he said.  It was oddly less hostile than he had been before, and Emberglow gave him a small shrug.

“I don’t know.  She used to be my friend.  I hope she still could be.”

“A little weird for a hero like you to be friends with an assassin like that.”

“She wasn’t always that way,” Emberglow said.  “I think she picked up some bad influences since the last time we spoke.”

“Huh,” the diamond dog shrugged.  “So you’ll be back?”

“I hope so,” Emberglow said.  “I don’t know, though.”

Crossguard and Emberglow were silent as they once again walked down the hall, through the barracks and away from the cells.  Around the corner from the guard station, though, a rather pleasant sight was waiting for them: Rarity and Iron Shod.

Iron Shod was, of course, the picture of military professionalism.  Rarity, on the other hoof, was in the middle of nervously pacing, her back to Emberglow as they came around the corner.  When Rarity turned, though, her eyes lit up and she moved over to give her a hug.

Emberglow hadn’t even realized she was shaking until Rarity held her tight.

“I know you had to talk to her by yourself, darling, but I simply couldn’t let things be without being as close as possible to support you.”  Rarity held her out at hoof’s length.  “Um.  How did it go?”

“Did you know she was paralyzed?” Emberglow asked, and Rarity flinched.

“I… I did.  I am sorry.  I know she was your friend, and I was the one who—”

“Don’t,” Emberglow breathed, leaning forward to kiss her.  “Don’t you feel guilty about this.  You were defending me.  You were defending the Princess, and the Empress.  She made her choices.  Her injuries are her fault, and Steadfast’s. Not yours.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but that doesn’t change how it feels,” Rarity said, and Emberglow squeezed her tight.  It was a feeling she knew well.

“Topaz said something about this,” Emberglow said, with a small laugh.  “How every single one of us is a bit of a mess, guilt-wise.  She suggested we start some group therapy sessions.”

“I should be proud to attend with such company,” Rarity said. “But darling, I can feel the tension in your muscles.  This was hard on you, wasn’t it?”

To be honest, Emberglow didn’t know how she felt. She’d expected it to be harder.  But at the same time, she felt a hole of incompleteness.  The entire situation felt unresolved, and it bothered her.

“Iron Shod, Crossguard.  What’s the most relaxing place in the palace?  Someplace really quiet,” Rarity said.  Crossguard hummed, tapping her lips with one hoof thoughtfully.

“The Princess’ Garden,” Iron Shod said, and Crossguard nodded eagerly.  “It’s named for Princess Flurry, but it’s open to the public.  It’s indoors, and heated by unicorn magic, so plants can grow there.  The Princess imports plants from all over, from Zebrica, even from the kirin lands over the mountains.  She’s even got some from down south, from what I understand.  We’ll show you the way, if you like.”

“There’s even a hot spring, though it’s artificial, created by magic, not geothermal stuff,” Crossguard added.

“Lead the way, then.  Emberglow needs some unwinding time.”  Rarity leaned in, speaking more softly.  “You don’t have to talk about what happened, but I’m here if you choose to.”

The silence as Rarity and Emberglow followed their guards was long, but it wasn’t uncomfortable like those with Turquoise.  Every few seconds Rarity’s tail floated over, tickling and brushing against her.  Emberglow tried her best to reciprocate, so much so that Emberglow began to worry their nonverbal flirting might be annoying their guards.  When she voiced as much, Iron Shod shook his head and Crossguard laughed.

“Nah.  You two are adorable.  Um.  Sorry.  If I can say so, my ladies.” Crossguard suddenly looked nervous about her possible breach of etiquette.

“You are certainly allowed to say so, dear,” Rarity said.

“You remind me of me and my wife,” Iron Shod said.  “Maybe fifteen years ago.  Makes a middle-aged pony feel a lot younger to watch you two.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad we can brighten your day with our antics,” Rarity said cheerfully.

While the indoor garden certainly sounded relaxing to Emberglow, it was the walk through the palace, next to her love, that truly began to leech the stress from her mind and her body.  There was something about simply being in Rarity’s presence that calmed her.

They followed their guards through the palace, and Emberglow noticed that there was an urgency to the others she saw.  There were more creatures about in guard uniform; an unpleasant reminder that war was on the horizon, and with it a return to her home.

To her parents.

For a single, strange second, she wondered what sort of sign her parents would put up in their shop for this.  It was a nonsense sort of thought, and caused a pang of longing to roll through her.

The rest of the trip was quiet, as Emberglow became stuck in her own thoughts.  Rarity seemed to have noticed, because she made sure to brush up against her side as they walked together.  Finally, the guards announced their arrival.

The garden’s entrance was a huge double-door made out of transparent crystal.  Inside, Emberglow could see the blurry outlines of a hundred different colors.

“There’s a foyer, with a small space to wash up when you enter or leave.  It also keeps the warm air inside,” Crossguard explained.  She reached for the handle and pulled the door open for them, and Emberglow was hit with a wash of warm, humid air from inside.  They stepped through the door into a small chamber, with a second set of crystal doors ahead of them.  “We close this door, then the inside one opens and we can go inside.”

Inside the foyer the air was humid.  They closed the door behind them, and opened the inner door to a rush of warm air. Emberglow thought she could see the hints of steam in the air as she stepped inside, mouth agape.  Everything was so green.

Thousands of plants and flowers surrounded a meandering path of stepping stones into a thick garden inside.  Flowering bushes, drooping willow trees, reeds and grasses and mosses of all kinds filled the room with brightness.  Emberglow breathed in the scent of a thousand flowers at once, and couldn’t help the smile that split her muzzle.  There was a gentle breeze, and it brought with it a whisper of a hundred thousand rustling leaves. 

Every color in the spectrum was represented, with a dizzying array of shapes and hues in the flowers that surrounded them.  Emberglow found her hooves moving before she made a conscious decision, drawn deeper into the color and scent around her. Rarity followed.

“I can see why Flurry built this,” Rarity said, her voice soft.  “I mean, I love a winter palette as much as the next fashionista, but one can truly get tired of nothing but whites all the time.”

“It takes up almost the entire floor,” Crossguard noted.  “I’m surprised nopony else has shown you this yet.”

“We’ve been a little busy,” Rarity noted dryly.

“Of course.  Follow me, I’ll show you to the actual hot spring.  It is open for bathing, if you’re interested.”

“A public bath in the middle of a fantastic, impossible flower garden.”  Rarity seemed rather charmed by the idea, but something in Emberglow seized up.

She still hadn’t managed to go outside her rooms without something on, after all.

Still, it was worth it just to follow her new guards through the garden.  The steam in the air grew thicker, and the air grew warmer.  Soon the greenery parted to reveal a large collection of pools, scattered with rocks, fed by several small burbling waterfalls.  The rocks ranged from small boulders to larger than a pony, creating an uneven, natural looking pool area that twisted and flowed around the landscaping. 

Iron Shod cleared his throat gently.  “If you move around this large rock here—” he pointed, “—there is a small pool in a very quiet spot, hidden from view.  If I needed a place to relax, that’s where I’d pick.  Crossguard and I will stay within earshot.”  Emberglow heard the subtext: within earshot, but out of sight.

“How many girlfriends did you bring back to this private pool of yours, Iron?” Crossguard teased.  Iron Shod merely gave a small mysterious sort of smile in response.

“We should at least go look,” Rarity offered.  Her eyes were concerned.  Emberglow realized she had tensed up again.  “At the very least, you can relax with me by the pool while I try the water, if you’re not comfortable.”

That was a decent middle ground.  She trotted with Rarity to the large rock Iron Shod had indicated, and they found a narrow path, made of arranged stepping stones, leading up to a pool hidden behind one of the larger rock formations.  It even had a tiny waterfall of its own, splashing down into the pool with a cheerful sound.

Iron Shod was right; it was private.  A veritable wall of foliage blocked off the right of the pool, and the left was a rock face with the waterfall.  The only way to see the pool was the small path they’d just climbed.

“I-I think I might j-join you,” Emberglow stammered. 

Rarity’s eyes sparkled, but her voice was even and controlled.  “I would very much like that.”  It was a blatant understatement; Rarity was practically tapping her hooves in excitement.  She looked down the path.  “Iron Shod?  Would you mind terribly flagging down a servant to bring us a pair of towels?  I would be ever so grateful.  We might need them in a while.”

“Yes, Lady Rarity,” he called back up the path.

Rarity was already focused on Emberglow, eyes bright and excited.  “You need this, darling. You deserve this.  You’ve been through so much, and today had to have been so hard for you.”

“I suppose so,” Emberglow said.  It hadn’t seemed difficult.  Just something she had to get done, for the sake of closure.  Only there hadn’t been any resolution, any real finality to it. 

If Emberglow was being honest with herself, she wasn’t sure how she felt about her conversation with Turquoise.  It made her miss her parents, for sure.  But it had felt somehow easier than it should have?  Mostly she was just left feeling numb and confused.

“And you charged right into the difficult situation,” Rarity continued, seemingly oblivious to Emberglow’s confused inner monologue.  “You have the heart of a lion, you know?”  Her horn glowed, and she began to undo the buttons on her dress.

“And you don’t?” Emberglow whispered, embarrassed at the attention.  “Rarity, you’re just as brave as I am.”

“We shall have to agree to disagree, darling.”  Rarity finished undoing her dress, slipping it off carefully before floating it over to one of the nearby rocks so she could fold it with her magic.  Emberglow noticed she was careful to never let it touch the dirt.  “Would you like to talk about what happened?”

“M-maybe.” Emberglow began awkwardly undoing her own buttons.  Her heart was pounding.  She was in public.  In public, and she was about to get naked.  Sure, nopony was around.  Nopony would see.  But she’d know she was in public, naked and in public, not wearing any…

With a huff of frustration, Emberglow silenced her obsessive thoughts and pulled her clothing the rest of the way off, before she could second guess herself any longer.

“You don’t have to force yourself, darling,” Rarity whispered.  It was the kind of voice that made Emberglow want to get closer, so she could hear it better.  So she did, moving right next to Rarity as the two of them stepped into the hot spring together.

“I’m fine!”  It came out as a gasp when Emberglow’s hoof touched the water; it was just shy of too hot, and the warmth made the air seem suddenly chilly.  She wanted to sink in up to her neck.

“Oh, this is divine,” Rarity cooed, as the two of them slipped into the water.  The pool was deep enough that they could immerse themselves, though stones had been arranged along the side to provide a shallow seating area.  “I’m really quite upset that we didn’t find this place sooner.”

“You said it yourself.  We’ve been too busy.”  The thought came with an unexpected twinge of bitterness.  “This… this is the eye of the hurricane, isn’t it?”

“You may be right,” Rarity said thoughtfully, as she eased herself deeper.  “Things might get harder before they get better.  But they will get better, darling.”

Emberglow thought about Turquoise, likely forever trapped in a wheelchair.  Beyond that, possibly in a cell for the rest of her life.  She thought about her parents, still ignorant about her fate.  She thought about all the ponies she’d left behind.  She thought about Heartwing and Terminus, Lofty and Topaz, and all they’d sacrificed.  She thought about Escher the changeling, and Starlight Glimmer.

“How?” Emberglow expected tears, just like she’d expected the voices of her guilt earlier, when she was talking to Turquoise.  But she still just felt hollow and dazed.  “S-sometimes it feels like nothing ever changes.  We just careen from one disaster to the next.  Every t-time things start to look up for us, something else goes wrong.”

Behind the numbness was something huge, something overwhelming and uncontrollable.  She couldn’t slip over the edge.  If she did, maybe she wouldn’t be able to come back.

“Shh, darling.  It’s not all bad, is it?  You have me.  And you’re making progress.  Moving towards a new life, a new you.”

“How can you even say that?”

“You got in the hot springs with me, didn’t you?”  Rarity pulled her close, so that their flanks were pressed close on the seat.  “Even a week ago you never would have considered it.  You’re leaving behind the old and embracing the new.”

“I don’t want to lose who I was.”

“You don’t have to, darling,” Rarity said.  “Let me ask you this.  Why did you go see Turquoise today?  Was it for closure?”

Emberglow thought about it.  It was for closure, she was sure.  But there had been a part of her, the irrational, childish part that had hoped, maybe, just maybe…

“It wasn’t just for closure,” she whispered, and buried her face in Rarity’s chest.  Rarity began to stroke her mane, gently.  “I wanted… I wanted…”

She couldn’t say it out loud.

“She used to be your friend,” Rarity reasoned.  Emberglow nodded, feeling Rarity’s soft fur brush against her closed eyelids.

“More than that.  She was my friend, yes, but also my mentor.  We spent every day together, for a year.  We were comrades in battle, too.  Besides Lofty and my parents, she was the pony I was closest with.”

And Steadfast, of course, but she didn’t want to say his name out loud.

“You wanted to see if you could hang on to a piece of what you’ve lost,” Rarity said.  “I…”  She sighed, and gently kissed the top of Emberglow’s head.  “I’ve been talking to Topaz, here and there.  About… how best to help you.”  She spoke in a rush, as if she felt guilty about it.  Emberglow didn’t see why.

“Thank you,” Emberglow said simply, squeezing Rarity tightly. 

“It’s one of the things she talks about a lot,” Rarity said.  “Helping you reinvent yourself, while also ensuring you keep hold of every good thing from your old life.  This is like that, isn’t it?  You’re trying to pick through your past, and keep whatever good bits you can.  Turquoise was a good bit.”

“She was,” Emberglow said. “Or at least… she used to be.”

“Topaz tells me to let you talk about the good things.  To help you find a way to hang on to them. Perhaps you could try now?”  Rarity kept stroking her mane, and Emberglow found herself calming, surrounded by the heat of the water, the soothing sensation of Rarity’s embrace, the pleasant scent of the floral air.

“Okay.”  But the words wouldn’t come.  Talk about the good things?  It had nearly all been good, until she suddenly realized how awful it had been in hindsight.

But…

There was something.  A thorn in her mind, ever since talking to Turquoise the first time, weeks ago, in the halls of the palace.

“I miss my mother,” Emberglow whispered, hating herself for sounding like a foal.  “I miss her so much, Rarity.”

“You’ve spoken of her a bit,” Rarity said.  “I remember, back in my shop in Angel’s Rest.  A creative spirit, like me.  I remember the look of love on your face when you talked about the dress she made for you.  Tell me more about her.”

“I remember lullabies.  She stopped singing them to me, after we lost my little brother.”  Emberglow swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat.  “It was hardest on her.  She nearly died starving herself.  I helped her start eating again.  It’s when I got my cutie mark.”  She was stumbling over her words.  She was sure she was being incoherent.  But it almost felt like there was a point there somewhere, if only she could find it.  “Um.  She didn’t sing to me any more after that.  At the time, I thought getting my cutie mark aged me out of lullabies.  I was too grown up.  It made sense; I’d gotten rid of most of my toys and foal’s books when I got my cutie mark.  I traded them for medical texts.  I think… I think I just realized how much I missed it.

“Is that…” Emberglow’s voice was tiny.  “Is that something good I can hang on to?  My mother’s lullabies?”

“Of course, darling,” Rarity said.  “If you like, I’d love to hear one.”

Every muscle in Emberglow’s body froze, relaxing only when she heard the soothing sounds of Rarity shushing her.

“Relax. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.  We’re here to unwind, after all.  If you’d rather…”

“I’d love to,” Emberglow blurted.  She pushed away from Rarity, looking into her eyes. “B-but my voice isn’t the best, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to remember all the words, and maybe…”

Rarity silenced her with a smile and a hoof to her lips.  “Bridge the gap between old and new.  Bring something good from your past into the good that is now.” Emberglow gulped and nodded.  Just like with everything else she’d done today, she buried her doubts deep, opened her mouth, and began to sing softly.


Let us walk along the river
And through the forest green
As we look up through the leaves
The most stars we’ve ever seen

We can lay out in the clearing
Here beneath the gentle skies
Among the flowers and the ferns
Now relax and close your eyes

Hear the whispers of the wind
And the murmurs of the creek
Let them sing you off to sleep
‘Til the dawn and morning’s light

Oh, the world can fade away
But you should never fear
You are my treasure, dear
And I’ll always hold you tight

We can frolic in the pastures
And the meadows of your dreams
Just a moment, and we’ll be there
Take a breath and spread your wings

And we’ll fly above the hills
‘Neath the smiling silver moon
Just come and follow me
And we’ll be together soon

Hear the whispers of the wind
And the murmurs of the creek
Let them sing you off to sleep
‘Til the dawn and morning’s light

Oh, the world can fade away
But you should never fear
You are my treasure, dear
And I’ll always hold you tight

> Chapter 57
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 57


Official Statement, issued by Empress Cadance, 1113 AF

To all my beloved citizens:

We are entering into an unprecedented era of change.  Many of you are already aware of the events that have shaken the Empire recently.  Rumors are plentiful, and sometimes they drown out the truth.

Allow me to clarify certain points of fact.

Recently an attempt was made on my life, and on the life of my daughter.  Thanks to the intervention of my brave guards, and some allies from the Knights Discordant, my daughter and I are unharmed.  We offer our sincerest condolences to the families of those guards and civilians killed in the attack.  The perpetrators are imprisoned, and we are beginning the processes of justice and healing.

We will hold responsible those who initiated this plot.  At this time, We are making preparations to muster our armed forces for an expedition into Equestria.

I will not mince words, my beloved citizens.  The coming days will be difficult.  We wish only for peace, but recent events have shown that the so-called ‘Diarchy’ (or more accurately, certain ponies in positions of power within the Diarchy) is more of a threat to us than ever.  If we are to be a force for peace, and bring light and freedom to those oppressed down south, we may have to do so with strength of arms.

Tomorrow the shield that has kept us safe for generations will come down.  We realize that this may cause some fear and anxiety.  So, to allay that, I invite all to participate in a very old tradition.  For the first time in centuries, we will be holding a Crystal Fair.  In each of your communities, in all the towns and villages of the Empire, you will find family-friendly events, food, fun, celebration.  We ask you to attend; the event has a purpose larger and deeper than simple morale-building.

It is time for us all to remember the true purpose of the Crystal Heart: not to keep us all sealed away behind a shield, but rather to spread the love and light we have within us throughout Equestria.

So be brave, my wonderful, brilliant, kind creatures.  Keep the fires of love burning in your hearts.  Hold close to your friends, your family, your neighbors.  If we do this, we will weather these difficult days with all the grace and wonder that I know you are all capable of.

One last thing: many of you remember coming to visit me as a foal.  I wish to thank you all for the centuries of love, support, and faith you have shown.  While it will no longer be necessary (as the shield will no longer need to be powered in the same way) I do hope you will continue to bring your children to meet me.  It always gave me strength and hope to see their bright young faces, to see all that potential and future.  

For those who live in the capital, I will be attending the Crystal Fair in pony.  I do hope to see you and your families there.

Crystal Empire, 1113 AF

Emberglow’s prediction that they were in the calm before the storm turned out to be absolutely true.  Rarity’s days were an absolute mess, packed from breakfast to dinner with meetings, press events, public appearances.  She had taken to scheduling blocks of time with Lightning Bug for her own creative works, as well as personal romantic time with Emberglow.  But even those activities had become compressed.

At least Emberglow had moved fully into her suite.

There was a part of her that wished she could go back to Angel’s Rest.  A piece of Rarity’s heart would always belong in her shop, whatever location or form that shop took.  She had started to consider opening up another location in the Crystal Empire, but the inner voice of her pessimism suggested that the moment she did, they’d be on their way to the next adventure.

The meetings were necessary, but frustrating.  Rarity felt useless and overwhelmed by the endless discussions about army mustering, logistics, strategy, and command structure.  Sometimes she felt as if the only good she did at those meetings was cool the inevitable sparks that flew between Heartwing and Flurry Heart; when Cadance couldn’t attend herself, the two of them often argued.

“You may have forgiven him,” Flurry confided in her once after one particularly bitter debate.  “I don’t know if I ever can.  I’ll tolerate him, though.  At least he’s on our side.”

She sounded like she still wasn’t quite sure.

Today’s afternoon meeting, however, was different.  Today it was a smaller group, only the Elements, Rarity, Lightning, Flurry, and Cadance.

Today was all about context.

“I don’t know that we need to be very formal if it’s just us,” Heartwing began, drawing a reluctant laugh from Princess Flurry.  Most meetings began with some sort of formal introductions from all the participants, as well as things like agendas, minutes, and other sorts of dull procedure.  Lightning Bug was taking notes, a pen floating in her aura perched above a blank notebook.  “I mean, I’m happy to introduce myself.  It’s practically tradition, now.  Hey, everypony, my name is Heartwing and I’m…”

He was drowned out by a chorus of well-meaning boos.

“Okay, okay, message received.  So I’m not sure how much this meeting will help, except for assuaging our own curiosity.  But Flurry Heart and I thought it might be useful to get all of us together and piece together a timeline.  How we got to where we are right now.  Maybe it will help us fit everything back together again, maybe not.

“But I have to thank Lightning Bug and her scholarly patience for helping us fit everything together into a somewhat cohesive timeline, as well as the Princess’ and Empress’ amazing memories.  They have asked me to present the sequence of events, as best as we can figure.  There will be some level of speculation and educated guessing involved, and some events are simply buried too deeply beneath time and history.

“Oh, and if you have questions feel free to interrupt, but you’re gonna have to raise your hooves like good little school colts and school fillies, okay?”

Rarity held a hoof up to her mouth to hide her giggle.

Flurry, however, was unamused.  “Can’t you be serious for one minute?”

“I shall endeavor to do my best, Princess,” Heartwing said, making a dramatic bow, all the more awkward because they were all sitting.  “So.  To the beginning.

“I suppose we need to start with Sombra’s attack, and the destruction of the Tree of Harmony.  Twilight, fortunately, had removed the Elements earlier that day because Phantom McGhostface had been sighted lurking about Ponyville, and she wanted to be prepared.  So when he snuck into the cave where the tree grew, the Elements weren’t there.  I’m guessing he destroyed the Tree in a rage.  We know now that some parts of it survived, a root system or something.

“I remember that bit,” Rarity said.  “The Elements didn’t disappear, so we were all sure the Tree would regrow, somehow.  It seemed worrying, but not too much.”

“You didn’t raise your hoof,” Heartwing scolded, and Rarity stuck her tongue out at him.  Emberglow giggled at that.

“Anyways, the battle with Sombra led all the way to the Crystal Empire, to the throne room itself, where Sombra was once again defeated, this time by the Elements rather than the Crystal Heart.  The Diarchy has their own version of this in the Book of the Saints.  It’s vague, and there’s very little detail, but besides the omission of some of the principal characters, like the Empress and her family, there’s not much wrong with their account.

“A few years later, scientists at the Manehatten Institute of Magic and Technology began an experiment with the very beginnings of rune magic, though they didn’t know it at the time.  Their intent was to create an invisible, intangible field that non-unicorns could use to power magitech devices.  It would have been a very real breakthrough.  They invited Princess Twilight to attend their experiment.  She was busy with matters of state, so she invited Starlight to attend in her place.  We know how that turned out.”

Rarity pointedly raised her hoof, and Heartwing smirked at her, gesturing with his own.  “Tell us about it, Rarity.”

“The poor dear came down with a rather nasty flu on the weekend of the experiment, so she asked me to go instead.  I may not have been a particularly accomplished mage like Starlight or Twilight at that time, but I could still take notes.”  Rarity pursed her lips in concentration.  “I was expecting some sort of lab, but instead they held the experiment in a small theater.  I’m sure I couldn’t begin to describe the technical apparatuses present.  The researchers and their grad students were up on stage, and most of the audience was filled with press ponies and undergrads.  The head researcher, I think her name was Inciting Incident or something like that, got up and described the experiment.  Then she flipped a large switch by the machine.  Everything went white, and the very next thing I remember is the beautiful face of my rescuer.”

“Thank you, Rarity.  I didn’t know you thought so highly of me,” Heartwing smirked, and for the second time that meeting Rarity stuck her tongue out at him foalishly.  “But we’re skipping ahead.  I can tell you that nothing was left of that theater but a crater.”  He shuddered.  “It was bad.  Your friends were inconsolable.  Fluttershy in particular was…” he sucked in a quick breath, shook his head, then continued.  “Fluttershy was the worst, I think.  Of all of her friends, I believe you were the one she felt closest to.

“We couldn’t find any… remains in the crater, so we searched.  All of us.  The Pillars, the Cutie Mark Crusaders, our students from the school.  We tracked down every possible lead, every hint, every sighting.  There was nothing.  In time, ponies had to move on with their lives.  We all did, except Starlight.  She and Twilight argued about it, and that’s when she admitted she’d been using dark magic to extend her life.  They fought, and Starlight left Ponyville.

“Shortly thereafter, Celestia and Luna announced their retirement.  At the time, everypony assumed they would just be doing something like go on vacation, or start checking things off their bucket list.”  Heartwing leaned forward on the table, his eyes narrowing in concentration.  “That’s not where they went, is it, Cadance?”

“The Starlit Path,” Cadance said.  There was a reverence in her raspy voice, and everypony at the table subconsciously leaned forward to hear.  “The Starlit Path is a mystery, even to us alicorns.”

“But you know more than you’re willing to tell,” Heartwing guessed, and Flurry huffed at him angrily.

“If she doesn’t want to—”

“The Starlit Path,” Cadance interrupted her daughter, “is sacred to alicorns.  It is the thing that connects us.  It is not a place, exactly, but…” she waved a thin hoof.  “I’m not sure how to describe it.  It is in all of our minds, a realm adjacent to the dream world that Topaz visits.  Many of you have caught a mere glimpse of the Starlit Path.”

Terminus’ ears drooped and he looked away.  Lofty and Emberglow were nodding knowingly. 

“Twilight could explain it better than I could, and I’m certain Celestia knew much more about it than she ever let on.  But I’ll share what little I do know.

“All ponies are connected to the Path, but alicorns, as representatives of all three tribes of ponies, have the strongest connection.  We can commune with the Path, traverse it in our minds.  There, we can get in touch with the deepest parts of our magic.”

Cadance’s brow furrowed, her eyes unfocused.  “In a way, alicorns are Harmony.  And the Path is where we are able to see our place in the larger picture.  Celestia once told me that communing with the Path allowed her to learn about a pony’s potential; she could see pieces of what a pony could become, if they made the right choices.  Luna was sometimes able to see glimpses of future events.  When I do, I see potential relationships; I see how love could flourish, if cultivated.  Twilight was the closest to the Path out of all of us; I’m sure in time she would have discovered secrets beyond what we can even imagine.”

“So Celestia and Luna didn’t just retire, then,” Rarity said, shooting a glare at Heartwing when he pointed at her hoof.

“No.  They… evolved beyond their physical forms in order to explore the Path.”  Cadance said.  “It is something we can all choose to do.  Though some are closer to the Path than others.”

Cadance looked at Flurry, who turned away with a small huff.

“Regardless, we all have an intimate connection to the Path.  It gives us our longevity.  Even if we are killed, a part of us still exists there.  That is why Celestia and Luna can still reach out, if we find ourselves on the path.  In Luna’s case, she can exploit the closeness of the Path to the world of dreams and touch the lives of ponies relatively easily.  Luna and Celestia wished to explore the Path more directly than those of us who remain in the physical world.  Their intent was to find new ways to guide and help their ponies.  But then…”

“Getting ahead again,” Heartwing waved a hoof.  “We’ll get there, I promise.  So Celestia and Luna evolved, or disappeared, or retired, or however you want to say it.  And they intended to still be able to influence Equestria from the Starlit Path.  And for a time, they did, while Twilight led from Canterlot, and you led from here.  And Flurry was a surly teenager.  I believe this was during your ‘goth’ phase?”

“Moving on,” Princess Flurry growled, her face flushed. 

“For a time, things were peaceful.  But from Twilight’s notes, and from the words of the insane mare from the cave, we’ve worked out that there was already a conspiracy in motion to destroy what had been built.

“So let’s list the villainous dramatis personae, shall we?  We have Cozy Glow, a pegasus foal who consistently used her manipulative charisma to try to amass power and influence. Then there’s Chrysalis, the jealous and hateful queen of the changelings.  Last is Tirek, the centaur with a genius-level understanding of thaumic science and a bitter spite for all ponies.  Tirek and Cozy were confined in Tartarus, and somepony broke them out.  We have now guessed that this was most likely a creature known as Adagio Dazzle.

“Adagio assembled her conspiracy of four, and then began undermining harmony in Equestria.  And I don’t just mean peace between the tribes, ponies getting along, or even a consistent, pleasantly arranged sequence of musical notes.” He paused a moment, glancing around the table.  Terminus let out a small cough and rolled his eyes.  Heartwing sighed before continuing.  “I mean Harmony with a capital ‘H’.  The magic of Equestria itself.

“They did this in three ways: one, by sowing disharmony among ponies.  This was Cozy’s specialty.  All she had to do was pick a group, any group, to blame for any and all of Equestria’s problems, both real and imaginary.  And Cozy picked unicorns.”  Heartwing tapped his horn with a hoof for emphasis.  “It started as an underground cult in Manehatten.  From Twilight’s notes, we’ve discovered that Cozy was recruiting from among earth ponies and pegasi there, spreading a narrative about the dangers of unchecked magic.  She tied every disaster in Equestrian history, including her own failed attempt to take over, on unicorn magic.

“Of course nopony believed her at first.  And that’s when things started getting weird.  A series of dangerous and deadly incidents occurred, supposedly perpetrated by unicorns against other ponies.  Soon angry earth ponies began responding in kind.  Yet when Twilight started looking into these incidents, she noticed a disturbing trend.  Many of them had connections to a rogue’s gallery of ponies who’d had unfortunate encounters with Twilight or her friends.  Even more disturbing is, many of those ponies disappeared before Twilight could interrogate them.

“Tribal tensions began ramping up, and the unicorn elite in Canterlot began to take notice.  Now, I don’t know if this was the work of Adagio and her conspirators, or just idiotic nobleponies being idiots, but they started to maneuver. It was an alliance of the wealthiest citizens of Canterlot, meeting behind closed doors.  They started introducing legislation, slowly and gradually.  It was insidious; each law appeared to be designed to ‘help Twilight focus her energies on the recurring disasters in Manehatten’ rather than the petty concerns of governing Canterlot.”

“The summary doesn’t do it justice,” Cadance said.  “Each new measure passed was another layer of control lost in Canterlot.  It was a death by a thousand cuts.” 

“She should have seen it coming.  Could have, too, if she weren’t distracted at the time,” Heartwing said.  “But when things really started to deteriorate in Canterlot, Twilight was busy dealing with the deaths of her friends, one after another.  Compounding it all was one friend who could have helped her see what was happening; an unwitting moron who, with his lack of self-control, restraint, and general emotional imbalance, was about to destroy everything.”

“We know what comes next, love,” Terminus said softly. 

“He can tell the story if he likes,” Flurry said, her voice just a little chilly.

“Fluttershy died.  I lost it, and in my grief I destroyed Ponyville.  And Twilight Sparkle died turning me to stone again.  Twilight arranged for Spike to hide the elements before she died, and he distributed them as instructed.”

“I did try to track them down and secure them up North,” Flurry said.  “But Spike was insistent that we follow Twilight’s final wishes.  He only gave us one of the Elements: Laughter.”

“Wait,” Emberglow said, raising her hoof.  “I have a question.  If I may.”

There was something so earnest and eager in the way she did it that reminded Rarity of elementary school foals.

“Um, did you say that an alicorn is still tied to this Starlit Path?  Even if she dies?”

“She is,” Cadance said simply.  “Twilight Sparkle may no longer have a physical form, but death is not the end for her.”

The room was uncomfortably quiet.  Cadance and Flurry were not looking at each other.  Rarity’s mouth was dry, almost painfully so.  She tried to swallow, and nearly choked.

“Y-you mean, you mean she’s still—”

“Rarity, please don’t misunderstand,” Cadance said.  “Twilight is dead.  Celestia and Luna ascended to the Path voluntarily.  Twilight’s presence is there, but not in the same way.  I don’t want to get your hopes up, or make you think that there is something you can do to see her again.  I don’t know how to show another pony the way to the Path if they’re not alicorns.”

“Can we get back to the story?” Flurry cut in suddenly.  “All this metaphysics isn’t helping to clarify the history of the Diarchy.”

“But…” Rarity began.  Her heart ached.  She had to know more.

“Later, Rarity,” Cadance said.  “I promise.  I’ll tell you as much as I can.”

“I might as well take over from here, Heartwing,” Flurry said sharply, glaring at her mother.  Cadance merely looked on sadly.  “Because Heartwing was a rock.”

But Rarity was finding it hard to concentrate.  Flurry’s voice was so much like Twilight’s; a lecturer’s voice, firm and confident.  But she couldn’t focus on the words.

Twilight is still…

“…underground cult was starting to become a little more mainstream.  Ponies were openly worshiping Twilight and her friends.  Popular politicians in Manehatten, Seaddle, Stalliongrad, and…”

Somewhere, Twilight is still…

“… were now calling ‘the True Faith’, if they weren’t members already.  Up North, we were largely…”

Rarity could barely hear her over the sound of her own heartbeat.

Somewhere, somehow, Twilight is still…

“…Canterlot was the only holdout, and only because it was largely ruled by an oligarchy of unicorn nobility.   Several of the other races came to Cadance and…”

It’s not possible.  Cadance said… but whatever she said, Twilight is still…

“As far as we can guess, that’s what the ‘machine’ Adagio spoke about was powering,” Heartwing added.

Rarity’s mind buzzed as she tried to catch up to the conversation.  She’d been missing something important.  “Machine?  Powering?  I’m sorry, I was…”  Cadance shot her a sympathetic look; she’d clearly guessed when Rarity’s attention had derailed.

“A spell, Rarity,” Flurry answered patiently. “Adagio and her cronies had destroyed the harmony between the tribes, but that wasn’t the end of their offenses.  They sought to destroy every hint of Harmony magic throughout Equestria, including devising a nasty spell to banish us alicorns from Equestria itself.”

“My best guess is that this machine is the target we Elements are supposed to be pointing our rainbow friendship laser at,” Heartwing said.

Rarity tried to listen.  She really did.  But her mind wandered back to the construct, and the mysterious answer she had once received from Twilight about the Starlit Path.  What did the alicorns know that they weren’t sharing?  She watched Cadance, staring at her sunken eyes.  Cadance stared back.

Was it a trick of the light?  Cadance looked as she always did; kind, understanding, sympathetic, loving.  But maybe there was something more there.  Guilt, perhaps, at not sharing her secrets?  Shame, at having hidden Twilight’s ultimate fate from her closest friends?  A worm of jealous suspicion grew in Rarity’s heart, and no matter what she did she couldn’t banish it.

“I tried to go to Canterlot myself, to appeal to those oligarchs in pony,” Flurry continued, heedless of the turmoil spinning in Rarity’s heart.  “But something was preventing me from entering.  It was the same with Mother.  Ocellus, queen of the changelings at the time, offered to send spies into Equestria to figure out what happened.  They were unable to discover the source of the spell, but they did determine its epicenter: the ruins of Ponyville.

“The events of next few decades are probably not helpful,” Flurry said.  “The missionaries of the ‘True Faith’ had started to build shrines and fortresses in Ponyville.  Tensions were escalating, and civil war felt imminent.  Other races began to pull into their own borders, or out of Equestria entirely, like the hippogriffs, the thestrals, or the kirin.  We sent messenger after messenger, begging both sides for calm, rational discussion.  But by then, there was no harmony left in Equestria.

“Those loyal to the Faith in Cloudsdale maneuvered it into position above Canterlot.  Before the unicorns realized what was happening, the mountain was being bombarded by hail and lightning.  It lasted for weeks, and by the time Cloudsdale ran out of ammunition, the Faith’s ground forces were in position besieging the city.”

Rarity found herself struggling to care any longer.  It was as Heartwing said in the beginning of the meeting; nothing that had happened mattered, unless they could use the knowledge to fix Equestria.  She fought the urge to stand up, to demand that they get to the point; it was time, in her mind, to start talking about the ‘how’.  Never mind the ‘why’.

And she wanted to corner Cadance and demand a more thorough explanation about the Path.  Rarity had thought she’d gotten a degree of closure, when she’d decided to forgive Heartwing.  Now she was less sure, and memories of Twilight Sparkle were threatening to overwhelm her.  A dozen sensory images, smells of the castle, of the library, sounds of her voice, explaining, lecturing, pleading, comforting.  The sight of her, proud, nervous, excited, or furious.  They all rattled around without sense or pattern in Rarity’s head.

“I’m sorry, darlings,” she interjected into whatever it was Flurry had been talking about.  “I find myself in desperate need of a break, perhaps a bit of fresh air.  I’m finding it difficult to concentrate, it seems.”

“Um.”  Flurry Heart blinked a few times, before nodding patiently.  “Sure, Rarity.  We can pick up at Sunset’s rebellion when you’re feeling better.  Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, Princess,” Rarity said, standing up from the table with enough haste that Emberglow jerked a little, looking to her with concern.  “Like I said.  I just need some air.  This whole topic is difficult.”

She didn’t dare look at Cadance.  She was sure she would see something.  Pity, perhaps.  Or apology.  She wanted neither.

With a small smile for Emberglow, she stepped away from the table and out of the door.  Emberglow followed in her wake.

Once the door to the conference room was closed behind her, Rarity took a deep breath.  Emberglow watched, patiently waiting.

“Is it that easy to tell something is wrong?” Rarity asked softly.

Emberglow smiled.  “A little, yes.  You’re upset.  I’m here for whatever you need.  We can talk, or not.  We could even find some ice cream.”

“You are a gem, darling, and I am most certainly keeping you,” Rarity laughed, and Emberglow blushed with a giggle.  “I will be fine.  Go for a walk with me?”

“Of course,” Emberglow said.  Rarity moved alongside her, and with a bump of their hips they walked slowly down the crystal hallway.

Rarity was slowly growing used to the guards that now followed them wherever they were, even in the palace.  It made her think, again, of Twilight, and her reluctance to hire guards for her palace.  She wondered if Twilight had changed her mind, later.

“It’s Twilight,” Rarity said out loud to Emberglow.  “Hearing Cadance talk about Twilight, and this Starlit Path place… it has left me out of sorts.  There’s more to the mystery of this Path place that nopony wants to talk about.  The construct mentioned something about it too, remember?”

“It locked us out from asking about it when you said you were not an alicorn,” Emberglow recalled.

“Mostly, though, I just miss her, Emberglow.  I thought, maybe after the trial, I’d be done with this.”

“Grief doesn’t work that way,” Emberglow said, then colored.  “Um.  It’s something Topaz and Terminus both say, and I…” she took a deep breath and let out an embarrassed giggle.  “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right,” Rarity said.  “It just got to be a little much, is all.”

“Where would you like to go?” Emberglow asked.

Outside seemed like the right answer.  The two of them hurried back to Rarity’s room, fetching their warm weather coats before stepping outside.

The grounds around the palace were a swarm of activity, buzzing with ponies setting up for the coming festival.  It was so unlike the last Crystal Fair Rarity had participated in; for one, she and her friends weren’t doing all the work.

A thousand years, and the culture of the fair had changed, as well.  The Fair Rarity and her friends had set up had been beautiful, but a bit of a one-note thing, culturally.  Now, in addition to the traditional staples, like crystal berry sweets, a petting zoo for the foals, and jousting, there were activities and crafts from among all the Empire’s peoples.  Rarity could see a trio of Diamond Dogs setting up a jewelry booth, and three unicorns building a large tent to sell some kind of fried food.  There was even a pair of changelings putting together what appeared to be some kind of foal’s game underneath a brightly colored sign that said ‘Mirror Mindboggler’.  It seemed as good a distraction as anything, so Rarity and Emberglow wandered over.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Rarity called out, and both of the changelings glanced up at her, eyes widening with recognition.  “But we were curious about the booth you were setting up.  Would you terribly mind explaining it?”

“Oh, uh… of course, Lady Rarity,” the taller of the two gave a low bow.  Rarity was growing used to being recognized on sight.  “My name is Tabanus, and this is my wife Ommatidia.  We’ve been running this game for years.  Some variation of the mirror game has been at every festival, carnival, and circus in the Empire since the changelings first migrated.  Would you care for a demonstration?”

“Why, of course,” Rarity said, intrigued.

“Okay then!” the changeling smirked.  “I’m going to have to have my wife borrow your beautiful marefriend for a moment, then.  If you don’t mind.  Omma?”

“Step this way for a moment, Lady Emberglow,” the female changeling said, with her own smile.  “You’ll like this, it’s fun.”

Emberglow nervously glanced between Rarity and the changeling, gulping a little until Rarity smiled confidently.  “Um, okay.”

The two of them stepped behind the partially assembled booth, and Rarity heard the hush of muted conversation.  She didn’t bother to listen, she was already pretty sure she had correctly guessed what this was all about.

Still, it was distracting, and it wouldn’t hurt anypony to play along and have some fun.  “So what am I supposed to do?  How does this game work?”

“Well, it depends on if you’re a foal or an adult,” Tabanus winked.  “We don’t have the prize table set up yet, but you bring a friend and pay your bits, one for foals and two for adults.  Then one of us goes with your friend behind the curtain there, and when they come out there’s two of your friend.”

Rarity grinned.  She had indeed figured it out.

“So you have sixty seconds to guess, though we give foals a little more time.  If we can fool you, you get a small prize, like candy or a little treat.  If we can’t fool you, there’s a larger prize section with plushies and toys.  For the heroes of the Empire, though, you two get to play for free.”

“Bring them out, then,” Rarity said confidently.

“Well, there’s a bit I have to…” Tabanus cleared his throat, and his voice changed, becoming deeper and more full.  “Welcome, pretty lady, to the Mirror Mindbender, a daring game of trickery and observation!  How well do you know your loved one?  Can you spot the fake?”  He flourished with one hoof.  “We shall see!  Lady Emberglow and Lady Emberglow, you can come out now!”

Even though Rarity knew what to expect, it was still a little jarring to see two Emberglows step out from behind the booth.  They were identical down to the smallest detail, and Rarity could tell; even the stitching on the unique coat Rarity had made for her was the same.

“Which is real, and which is the fake?  You can ask any question you like, but you only have a minute.”  Tabanus reached under the booth’s counter and pulled out a small hourglass.  “Your time starts now.”  He flipped over the hourglass, and the sand began to trickle down.

Rarity’s smile widened, a plan already forming in her head.  Wordlessly, she circled the two Emberglows.  She made a show of walking in a loop around the both of them, pretending to take in each and every detail while keeping an eye on the timer.  Then, just before about half of the sand had fallen, she spoke.

“The resemblance is almost perfect, darling.  It’s rather disconcerting.  I must say, though, the possibilities are intriguing.”

“Possibilities?” One of the Emberglows asked.

“Oh, I mean in the bedroom, darling.  If there’s two of you…”

One of the two Emberglows went bright pink, sputtering.  Rarity began to laugh, pointing her hoof at the true Emberglow while Tabanus sighed and shook his head with an amused smirk.

“I… you…” one Emberglow was reeling, while the other began to laugh.  In a flash of green fire, she became a changeling again. 

“You never even asked a question.  You two must be very close,” Omma winked.  Rarity knew a good ‘buttering up’ when she heard one, but she still took the complement.  Meanwhile, Emberglow’s face was still red, her eyes wide.  “You’ll make sure to come back, when we’re all set up?  You’ll need your prize, after all.”

“We didn’t actually pay, we couldn’t possibly…” Rarity began.

“It’ll be worth it for the business.  If other creatures see the two heroes visiting our booth?  That’s a win, as far as I’m concerned,” Tabanus said.  “Besides, the two of you were looking a little morose when you came out of the palace.  But we managed to put smiles on your faces, didn’t we?”

“You did, good sir,” Rarity said.  “Thank you.  And we’ll take you up on that prize offer.”

Emberglow was still silent as they walked away, moving through the booths being set up.  They were nearly to the end of the festival area when she finally spoke again.

“The cat,” she said, and Rarity blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“There was a cat.”  Emberglow went red again.  “Plush.  White and orange.  With a cute face.  I saw it in one of their crates they hadn’t unpacked yet.  That’s the prize you’re getting me.”

“But darling, I’m the one who won the game.”

“At the expense of my embarrassment,” Emberglow said, a little haughtily.  The look was ruined by her laugh.  “You owe me.”

“Fair enough,” Rarity laughed, before leaning into Emberglow with a satisfied sigh.  “Thank you for this distraction, darling.  It’s what I needed.”

“I didn’t do much,” Emberglow said.

“You were here.  Sometimes that’s enough.”


*   *   *   *   *


The walk was nice, but it didn’t keep Rarity’s melancholy at bay for long.  It was as if this day was cursed; everything conspired to remind her of Twilight.  They finally returned to the palace, with Emberglow citing the need to check on Sunset.

“How is she progressing?” Rarity asked with a pang of guilt.  With all the chaos, she’d barely had time to think about the comatose alicorn.  Then there was another pang; Sunset Shimmer, like Rarity, had a close connection to Twilight Sparkle.

Sure, Cadance, Flurry, and Heartwing remembered her, but it was a memory buried in a thousand years of history.  For Sunset, the last time she saw Twilight was probably months ago.  Just like Rarity.

The urge to see Sunset awake, to talk to her, to meet her officially for the first time, was nearly unbearable.

“She’s healing,” Emberglow said.  “Bringing her here was the right thing to do.  Heartthrob was able to help.  He and I have been learning a lot from each other.”  Emberglow did like to spend some of her free time with the doctor, comparing techniques and sharing knowledge.  Rarity sometimes joined their conversations, but most of it was far over her head, unless they were talking about magical theory.

“When will she wake up?”

“That we don’t know,” Emberglow shrugged.  “Cadance says that when an alicorn ascends, their thaumic pathways have to be re-written.  It’s not just the new limbs, it’s the whole nervous system, and all the other bodily functions have to adapt around that.  She said that Celestia knew some spells to expedite the process, but she only passed them to Twilight, not to Cadance or Flurry.  So they’re probably lost to us, unless one of us develops something.”

“So we just have to wait,” Rarity scowled.

Emberglow shrugged.  “Yes.  Sorry.  There’s more, though.  She’s healthy, as far as we can tell, but the process is going slower than it should.  Sunset had a very close brush with death, so it’s slowing down her healing.  Both Heartthrob and I believe she’ll be just fine, but we still don’t know how long it will take for the natural healing processes to complete and for Sunset to wake up.  Heartwing has a theory about all of that.”

“He does?”

Emberglow laughed.  “It’s not a very scientific one.  He thinks that she’s subconsciously waiting for the appropriate dramatic moment to wake up.”

Rarity snorted.  “That sounds like something he’d say.  I doubt it’s that simple, though.”

“Strangely enough, he might be right,” Emberglow said thoughtfully.  “He is the expert in chaos magic, after all, even though he can’t use it any longer.  And both he and Cadance agree that there’s an underlying hint of chaos magic in the alicorn transformation.  Neither one knew enough about it to speculate any more deeply, though.”

“But Twilight probably knew.” Rarity deflated, and Emberglow hugged her.

They walked the rest of the way to the infirmary in silence.  Heartthrob was not there, but one of the nurses was inside his office.  The door was open, and she looked up from his desk.

“Lady Emberglow!  Your device is ready for you, by the patient’s bedside on her night stand,” the nurse barely rose from her seat.  Rarity could see she was reading some sort of large textbook.  “Do you need anything?”

“I’ll let you know,” Emberglow said.  “Thank you, Snowdrop.”  Of course Emberglow would remember the nurse’s name. 

“Your device?” Rarity asked.

“My rune gauntlet.  I leave it here.” Emberglow moved over to the familiar hospital bed by the window, and the familiar-yet-alien alicorn who still rested there.

Rarity moved to the side while Emberglow put on the gauntlet.  She was now becoming familiar with the sight of Emberglow’s basic diagnosis spell; she was also familiar with the patient sigh that usually came after.

“No change?”

“There’s change,” Emberglow said.  “It’s just… very slow.  I’m not the best at judging the rate of growth of her non-unicorn thaumic nerve clusters.  Thaumatology isn’t much studied in the Diarchy, unfortunately.  But from everything I can tell she’s improving.”

Emberglow paused, eyeing Rarity carefully.  “Do you mind if I try something?  One of the things I’m struggling with is having a baseline for ‘normal’ unicorn thaumic density.  We didn’t have many unicorns to practice on when we were learning diagnostic magic, after all.”

“Of course, darling.  What do you need?”

“Just a routine thaumic scan.  The same spell I’ve been casting on Sunset Shimmer this whole time.  Don’t worry, it won’t hurt.”

“Go right ahead.”

Emberglow raised her hoof and cast the spell again, the same runes she’d used on Sunset.  Rarity felt a warm sort of tingle spread through her body, before finally settling at the base of her horn. It stayed for a few moments, then faded.

“That’s…” Emberglow’s eyes narrowed, and she glanced at her gauntlet.  “Um.  One moment, Rarity.”

“Emberglow, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”  Rarity raised an eyebrow, and Emberglow blinked and looked away.  “I’m going to cast the spell again.”

It was the same warm tingle as before, much less comforting this time due to the look of poorly-disguised concern on Emberglow’s face.

“Darling, if you don’t tell me what’s happening, I’m going to be very cross with you.”

“I…” Emberglow gave a sharp intake of breath.  “I don’t know.  I don’t think there’s anything wrong.  But I don’t know enough about a unicorn’s thaumic system to be sure.”  Her voice was getting quicker, each word tumbling over the next in her nervousness.  “Nurse Snowdrop?  Can you go find the doctor, please?”

Rarity eyed her sharply, but Emberglow wouldn’t meet her gaze. Emberglow was just as poor a liar as her predecessor.  She didn’t even turn to look as the nurse rose from her spot in the doctor’s office, responding, no doubt, to the growing panic in Emberglow’s voice.

“Emberglow…”

“I don’t know, okay?  I…” She closed her eyes for a second, and Rarity saw her mouthing something.  She was counting down from ten.  “I’m sorry.  I’ve been behaving unprofessionally.  This is exactly why doctors aren’t supposed to provide service for their friends and family.  Or marefriends.”  Emberglow’s lips turned up in an infinitesimal smile.  “Please, can I have you sit down on one of the beds?  My scan discovered something that has me nervous, so I’m going to ask the doctor to take a look.  But I do not think it’s anything you should be worried about.”

“What did you find?”  Being told not to worry was, paradoxically, rather worrying.  Still, Rarity allowed Emberglow to gently guide her over to one of the infirmary beds; the same bed Emberglow had spent a great deal of time in, in fact.  “I can’t say all this mystery is helping.”

“There’s some sort of…” Emberglow scowled in frustration.  “Passive motic presence along your cornaetheric nerve.  I have been studying up on unicorn’s thaumic systems, or else I might have noticed it sooner.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Emberglow repeated.  “I haven’t scanned you since… since the book cast that spell on you, back in Nyumba ya Joka.  This could be related to that, or something that happened since then.  I didn’t think to look until now, until I was trying to compare your baseline to Sunset Shimmer’s.”

“But you said not to worry.”

“That’s the thing,” Emberglow tapped an impatient hoof on the floor.  “It doesn’t seem to be hurting you, or else I probably would have noticed it sooner.”  She colored.  “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Rarity said.  Except being needlessly cryptic in the middle of a minor panic, she thought, though she didn’t want to say that out loud.  “What do we do now?”

“You relax,” Emberglow said, patting Rarity with her hoof.  “I’m not trained in the doctor’s instruments; we used rune magic rather than technology down south.  But I know which ones he’ll need, at least.”

Rarity tried to focus on her amusement as Emberglow fluttered about the infirmary.  Even though Emberglow still couldn’t fly yet, her wings twitched and spread with her agitation as she gathered a tray of sensors and instruments.

“Darling, I think you’re more worried about this than I am,” she said.  “It’s not helping my own nervousness.”

“I’m sorry that I’m struggling with my professional objectivity at the moment,” Emberglow said wryly.  “Look, I can’t see anything dangerous about this, but not knowing is bothering me.  I’m sorry.”  She finally abandoned her efforts to prepare for the doctor’s arrival and plopped down on the bed next to her.  “I’ll try to relax.”

Cuddling was certainly helpful.  It at least helped the time pass until the doctor rushed in, with Nurse Snowdrop bounding in behind him.

“What’s the emergency, Emberglow?”

Emberglow jerked up from the bed, rushing over to Doctor Heartthrob.  “I was performing my routine test spells on Sunset.  There was no change.  On a whim, I performed the same test on Rarity, to get more familiar with the norm for a unicorn’s thaumic system.  Only I found something odd.  Some sort of passive motic clustering around her cornaetheric nerve.  I need to check if you can measure what I’m seeing with my spells.”

“I see.  Marchioness, can you lay back on the bed?”  Rarity noticed that the doctor used her title, but not Emberglow’s.

“Of course.  And please, just call me Rarity.”  She laid back, and the doctor pulled a small sensor from the tray.  It was the same sensor that he had ran over Emberglow’s wings as soon as she’d awoken from her coma.  He flicked a switch on the back.

“Thank you.  Now, please turn so that you are laying on your side and rest your head against the pillow.  Try to relax as much as possible, and do not light your horn until I ask.”

Rarity followed the doctor’s instructions.  Emberglow took up a position behind the doctor, clearly anxious, though keeping her distance.  The doctor lowered the sensor, running it along her horn and to the base, where the appendage met her forehead.  He moved it up and down her horn a few times.

“Thank you.  Now, light your horn, but no spells or levitation.  Just hold your magic.” 

The white linen of the pillow in front of her turned blue with the glow of her magic.  Rarity tried to ignore the doctor and his movement, instead focusing on the steady rhythm of her breath.  In and out.  Calmly.  Nothing was wrong.  There was no real reason that her marefriend was jumpy and panicky.  There was nothing to be worried about.  Nothing at all.

“Rarity, would you mind answering some questions for me?” the doctor asked, calm and evenly.

“Of course.”

“Could you tell me the sum of thirty nine and two hundred and twelve?”

“Uh…” Rarity furrowed her brow.  “Doctor, I don’t see…”

“Humor me.”

She had to think about it for a moment.  “Two hundred and fifty one?”

“Thank you, Rarity.  Now can you subtract twenty seven from the result of eleven multiplied by nine?”

She had to have him repeat the question.  When she answered, he asked another.  And another.  Each one just complicated enough to make her focus on his exact words.  She was about to become frustrated, when he finally lifted the device back to the tray and smiled.

“Done.  Thank you for your cooperation, Rarity.  You can sit up now.”

“What was all the math for?” Rarity furrowed her brow in consternation.  As a business owner, she was no slouch in math.  But it was still unexpected, and a little annoying.

“I’ve found that sometimes when a patient is feeling anxious about certain tests or procedures, asking them mathematics questions makes them focus on something other than what is happening.  It forces them to use the logical and analytical parts of their brain, rather than their overactive imaginations.  I noticed that you were close to hyperventilating, so I thought I’d intervene before it became a problem.”

“Sorry,” Emberglow said, her ears pinning back.  “I might have not helped the situation much.  I was… more than a little anxious about this.”

“I can see why,” the doctor said.  “Rarity, I have some questions about your recent history.  In retrospect, I should have done some in-depth scans on the lot of you as soon as you came in, but things were so chaotic…”

So Rarity told him her story, from waking up in the cave all the way until arriving in the Crystal Empire.  Doctor Heartthrob had Snowdrop bring him a notepad and a pencil and began taking notes.  His questions focused less on the adventure and more on Rarity’s various injuries and perils.  Most of his queries were reserved for the explosion at the university and the spell cast from Twilight’s book.

Halfway through, Emberglow excused herself, returning a few moments later with some snacks and drinks for everypony.  Rarity was quite grateful for the break, before she went back to explaining the spell the book had cast on her, and how it had changed her magic.

When she was done, the doctor thanked her with a smile.

“So to start, Rarity, I don’t think that whatever is happening to you is going to hurt you.  I detected the same thing that Emberglow did, and it appears benign to me.  My best guess is that the processes of Princess Twilight’s spell are ongoing; it did not affect your magical reserves all at once, and continues to do its work.

“But!” the doctor held up a hoof.  “I’m not willing to bet your safety on my guesses.  I’d like to do some more testing and observation, if you’re okay with that.  I’d like you to stay in the infirmary overnight.”

“Is it too much to ask that we go a single month without one of us ending up in the hospital?” Rarity proclaimed acerbically.  Emberglow snorted with amusement.  “Well, really, darling.  If you could just try harder not to sustain any life-threatening injuries, I shall endeavor not to contract any test-baffling mystery conditions, and maybe we can manage to actually spend some time in our own beds?”

“Our own beds?” Emberglow said.  “But aren’t we technically homeless right now?”

“That’s right!”  Rarity slapped one hoof into another.  “Princess Flurry granted us lands to build an estate on.  We could use my unexpected incarceration to begin brainstorming ideas for our new home.”

It took a few seconds for what Rarity had said to fully dawn on her.  If Emberglow’s shocked expression meant anything, then it was clear the other mare had noticed it first.

“Did you… just ask me to move in with you?” Emberglow said.  Rarity gulped and nodded, and they stared at each other.

“Well,” Doctor Heartthrob cleared his throat.  “I’ve done enough testing to know you’re not in any immediate danger.  I could step out for a few moments, and give you two some privacy.”  Nurse Snowdrop nodded, hiding her grin behind a hoof.  “I’ll be back in a half hour to see if the readings change in the short term.  There’s also some blood tests I’d like to do.”

“Of course, doctor.  Oh, and could you let our guards know what’s happening?  You have my permission to tell them the details.  They’ll make sure the others know, as well,” Rarity said.

The doctor nodded, and slipped out of the room.  Silence fell, and Emberglow stepped closer, fidgeting with the instruments left behind on the tray.

“I was serious, darling.  While Flurry provided us both with family lands alongside our titles, wherever I may end up living, I want to share it with you.”

“I…” Emberglow gulped, and then slowly slipped into the bed next to her.  “…okay.”

“You don’t mind?” Rarity asked, and Emberglow shook her head frantically.  “You seem a little nervous about the idea.”

“I am,” Emberglow admitted.  “But I like it.  Only, I’m worried we’ll never get to enjoy any home we get.  Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing this time?”

“I might have brought in the next disaster for us,” Emberglow looked away, before Rarity pulled her head back for a kiss.

“Darling, that’s nonsense and you know it.  You merely discovered an existing situation.”

Emberglow sighed.  “I know.  I’m just so tired, Rarity.  We need a vacation.”  She looked over at Sunset.  “I envy her sometimes.”

“I do so wish she would wake up, though.  I would love to speak with her,” Rarity whispered, looking over at the only other patient in the room.  Sunset Shimmer could pass for a pony merely sleeping.  Except for the gentle beep of the heart monitor she was hooked up to, she looked entirely normal.  Slow, even breaths inflated her chest, and her wings were curled up at her sides just like Emberglow’s did when she was sleeping.

“She’s seen Twilight almost as recently as I have.  She’s displaced in time, like me.  Is it odd that I feel such sisterhood with a pony I’ve never met, only heard about?”

“Not odd,” Emberglow said.  “I get it.  There’s a shared experience there.  When I first came to Angel’s Rest, I found myself really drawn to Bubblegum, a pony I used to hate.  But now we have so much more in common than we used to.”  She talked while she worked, casting what Rarity guessed were more complex and specialized diagnosis spells.  Rarity was impressed at how she could multitask, though she supposed it wasn’t much different than holding a conversation while sewing.

“It doesn’t hurt that her foal is adorable.”

“No,” Emberglow giggled.  “Somehow Bubblegum’s son makes Bubblegum much more bearable.  You should have met her back when I first did.  She was insufferable.  She liked to taunt me all the time about my…” her voice dropped with embarrassment.  “…uh.  Vow of chastity.”

“How is Bubblegum doing?”  Rarity had met her a few times, and she was rather amused by the bombastic mare.  “You still keep in touch, right?”

“Yes.  She was in a bit of a panic when I was out because of the coma.  I’m glad Heartwing remembered to message her back on the third day after I got injured, or else she might have…” she blushed, and her mouth shut with a click of her teeth.  “…Um.  She likes to write embarrassing things in the journal.  But she’s doing well; she and Spark are home, and both of them are driving her husbands crazy.” 

Emberglow paused, staring intently at the window over Sunset’s bed.  Rarity watched her.  She had a contemplative look on her muzzle, the kind she got when something was bothering her.  Some ponies might be willing to wait for another to come to them with their problems.  With Emberglow, Rarity preferred to take the direct approach.

“What’s bothering you, darling?” Rarity asked, and Emberglow jumped slightly, her good eye shooting wide as she looked up.

“You know how I told you I sometimes get this voice in my head?” she said, shamefaced.

“Your inner monologue of guilt, I remember,” Rarity said.  She moved up beside Emberglow.  “You can talk to me.”

“It’s telling me to shut up right now.  That I don’t deserve…” Emberglow took a deep breath.  Then another.  “Do you… do you think I’d make a good mother?”

As odd as the question was, Rarity could see the train of thought from Bubblegum to Emberspark to Emberglow’s own future.  And Rarity knew she didn’t even have to think about the answer.

“Without a doubt, darling.”

“But I don’t know, Rarity,” Emberglow almost whined.  “I’ve never spent much time around foals except True, and I never thought I’d have the chance to…”

“Emberglow.”  This was one rant that needed cutting off at the source.  “You are kind and compassionate.  You are patient and creative.  All things that are essential skills for motherhood.”

Emberglow didn’t quite look convinced, but she nodded.  “Okay.  Uh.  There’s a follow up question.”

Rarity didn’t need to think too hard to guess where this was going.

“Going from first date to asking if I want to have your foals in just a few weeks?  Emberglow, you move quickly.”  Truly it was delightful to see the blush on those cute pink cheeks.  “I tease, darling.  The truth is, I have thought about it before.”

“Well, you did just ask me to move in with you,” Emberglow teased back.  “Um.  You have thought about it?”

“While my little sister was a filly, my parents traveled a great deal.  Sweetie Belle ended up living with me for several years.  I’d like to think I got a good taste for motherhood during that time.”  Rarity waited for the pang of hurt to pass.  Sweetie Belle was long gone, just like Twilight Sparkle.

“I-if it’s too soon to ask, I can…”

“Emberglow, hush,” Rarity bumped her with her flank.  “I’m not saying I’m ready.  I’m also not saying I’m not.  What I do know is that what we have feels like a very long term arrangement right now, and that means these are the kind of things we need to have adult conversations about.  I’m glad you brought it up, so we can think about it, and talk about it.”

“Talk about it…” Emberglow repeated, her good eye going unfocused.  “Yes.  Well, I’m not sure I’m ready yet, either.  But I want a foal.”  She shifted nervously in her spot on the bed, her hooves rubbing together.  “I never thought I’d have the chance.  My mom…”

Rarity reached up with one hoof, wiping away the tear that suddenly dripped down Emberglow’s cheek.  “This sounds like a story.”

So Emberglow spoke of a night, years ago.  She spoke of accidentally eavesdropping on her mother, sobbing to her father.  Her mother, wanting more than anything else to have a grandfoal.  And how Emberglow’s dream of joining the Knights Radiant ruined that.

“That’s one of the first things I realized, when I switched over.  That I can have a foal, now.  Do you think that would be enough?”

“Enough for what, darling?”

“Enough for Mom to forgive me.”  It came out as a whimper.

“If your mother is even a tenth the pony you are, Emberglow, she won’t even hesitate.”  Rarity nodded firmly.  In truth, she didn’t know how Emberglow’s mother would react.  But it didn’t matter at the moment.  “Anyways, I think it’s a fine idea, though I’m sure the timeline is a little awkward.”

“Oh, definitely,” Emberglow nodded.  “I know that there’s dangerous days ahead.  I wouldn’t want to bring a foal into that.  Or be pregnant when we’re on some kind of perilous quest.”

It was interesting to Rarity that Emberglow immediately assumed she would be the one carrying any children of theirs.

“Perhaps you should ask Heartwing to teach you the runes.  Then we can talk about the timing, hm?”  In truth, the idea was starting to excite her, despite her misgivings.  A small foal.  A little one, hers to love and cuddle and guide and shape.  The idea was intoxicating.

“I will.  And, Rarity? For what it’s worth, I think you’d be an excellent mom, too.”


*   *   *   *   *


“Okay.  Since Rarity and Emberglow can’t manage to stay out of the hospital for one measly week, we’ve gotten permission from the palace doctor to finish our history meeting here.”  Heartwing’s horn glowed as he brought several folding chairs into the room.  The other Elements followed behind, each looking appropriately sympathetic as they set up the chairs around Rarity’s bed and took their places.  Emberglow stayed on the bed with Rarity.  It was a tight fit, but Rarity wasn’t about to complain.

“Ha ha,” Rarity deadpanned.  “Didn’t our guards tell you that nothing was wrong?”

“They filled us in,” Topaz said.  “I would have brought you some balloons or flowers, but they said you were just staying one night for observation.”

“Very true.  I should be out in the morning,” Rarity said. 

“Still,” Heartwing said.  “I’m less than happy about how vague the doctor was.  Emberglow, you’re sure we can’t get a more definite answer about what’s going on?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Emberglow said with some impatience.  “Doctor Heartthrob knows his work.  And so do I.  Rarity is in no immediate danger.”  Rarity hid a smirk; Emberglow was awfully confident for a mare who had been freaking out about that same lack of surety just a few hours ago.  “He’s done dozens of tests, as have I.  We’ve even sent a message to Princess Flurry so she can bring the Twilight construct.”

“It might help if you’d stop worrying about it,” Rarity said to Heartwing.  “The doctor said as much.  Besides, we’re here to finish our meeting.  Where are the Princess and the Empress?”

“Empress Cadance is still not used to being up and about,” Heartwing said.  “And Princess Flurry had to go oversee the final preparations for the coming festival.  She asked that we finish up without her.  Besides, we already went through most of the important bits.  All that’s left is the Diarchy’s slow, brutal takeover of Equestria, the retreat of the other races to the north, and Sunset Shimmer’s rebellion and capture.  After that, the Diarchy had essentially won.  It wasn’t until I woke up that they started facing a serious threat.”

“I’m sorry I had to step out,” Rarity said.  She wondered about Cadance’s absence, though.  Was she really too tired to meet?  Or was she avoiding the questions she knew Rarity had?  Perhaps later she’d track down Cadance and corner her.  It was time for some answers about Twilight.

“I understand,” Heartwing said.  Their eyes met, and Heartwing blinked.  “I guess the only thing we had left to talk about is what comes next.

“Princess Flurry has plans, of course.  She and Cadance have decided it’s time for the Empire to re-enter the world, and that means the shield has to come down.  That also means reinforcing the border, guarding harbors, all that sort of thing.”

“Why take the shield down at all?” Emberglow asked.

“Because it was designed to fail,” Topaz said.  Everypony stared at her, and she shrank back a bit.  “W-well, it was.  The Empress told me, once.  Before I went south.  Ocellus the First, who designed the apparatus, didn’t want her people, or even the other peoples of the Empire, to grow too dependent on the protection of the shield.  She wanted to make sure we came up with another solution to the Diarchy problem besides hiding from it.”

“That seems like Ocellus,” Rarity mused.  “She was such a thoughtful and wise changeling, even as a foal.  Er, nymph?”  She shrugged.

“We’re getting off topic,” Heartwing said patiently.  “Though I know Topaz has suggested some group therapy sessions for all of us.  Perhaps reminiscing about past friends should be a part of that?”  Rarity nodded, thinking of the precocious changeling student.

“So.  The Empress and the Princess have plans for deploying their forces to protect the Empire.  I am a major part of those plans, as I have rather suddenly found myself leading her armed forces.  Much to the annoyance of some of her other generals, mind you.”

“You thrive on annoying ponies, though, so don’t pretend like you don’t like it,” Rarity quipped.  Heartwing grinned proudly.

“Of course.  At least they recognize that I have far more experience than they do.  And they’ll need it.  The fact is, the imperial army is smaller, less experienced, less well equipped, and less magically enhanced than the Diarchy.  Even with the addition of the Knights Discordant, we’re woefully outmatched in any direct confrontation.  So I have advised the princesses that direct confrontation would be foolish, bordering on suicidal.  We will not be invading or conquering the Diarchy.

“Then there’s the Elements.  They would not have revealed themselves, and their bearers, if the need were not dire.  I’m certain that if there is any long-term victory for any of us, it’s through the Elements.  And we’re missing one.”

“But you just said you advised the Princess not to invade,” Lofty noted.

“We won’t be invading the capitol, or leading a force against the borders.”  Heartwing’s grin was predatory.  “I had an even better idea.  We’re going to occupy Old Canterlot.  From there, we’ll be within striking distance to sneak ponies into New Canterlot City to search for the Element of Magic.  I’m sure Steadfast Word is keeping it close.  And with Old Canterlot atop Mount Canter, it will be difficult for the Diarchy to send a large force up to uproot us. The high ground, and all that.”

“Risky plan,” Lofty said.  “You’re begging for them to besiege us.  We’ll be trapped without an escape route, if things go south.”

“If everything goes to plan, the Diarchy won’t be able to bring their forces to bear on the mountain without risking a counterattack from their flanks.  Messengers have been sent to the dragons, the griffons, the major zebra groups, even my own Discordant in Angel’s Rest.  At the very least the griffons and Cobalt will take advantage, keeping the Diarchy’s eyes off our actions long enough for us to get into place.  From there, we’ll only need to find the Element.

“As awful as it sounds,” Heartwing continued, “the horrible weather will be on our side.  The crystal ponies and their allies are experts at working in the cold, even if they lack combat experience.  Winter is crippling the Diarchy down south, keeping them locked up in their homes and cities.  They’ll be cold, hungry, and demoralized.  And we’ll take the old capitol before they even realize we’re there.”

“How?” Lofty asked.  “There are watch posts all along the northern border, as well as dozens of farming villages between here and there.  How are we possibly going to sneak an entire army, however small, past all that right onto the Diarchy’s doorstep?”

“I’d like to take credit for this one,” Heartwing smirked.  “But it turns out, for all her desire to stay hidden behind the Empire’s shield, Princess Flurry actually already has an answer for that.”  His horn lit, and a beam struck the floor at their hooves.  Spreading out from the impact point was an illusion, a topographical map of the Empire.  Rarity recognized the mountains that served as a natural barrier between the Empire and the south.

“One of the first things the Empire did when they were considering the shield was to cut the rail lines that connected the Empire to Equestria,” Heartwing said, and a web of golden lines shot out from the Empire, spreading out towards the mountains.  Lines shot through the passes between peaks.  Heartwing reached with a hoof, swiping it through some of the larger lines that led south, breaking them.  “The Diarchy didn’t rebuild them, except to connect small lines to their watch posts and forts along the border.  But if we could connect those lines before the Diarchy realized, we could have trains of troops shooting along the Diarchy’s own rail lines while they’re busy with a thousand skirmishes along the griffon border.”

“Of course,” Rarity said.  “Reconnect thousands of miles of ancient rail lines.  It’s the perfect plan, darling.  If we had years to enact it, somehow, without anypony noticing.”

“Oh, Flurry did,” Heartwing grinned.  “It’s really quite impressive.  Did you forget all the other races that are a part of the Empire now, Rarity?  You, of all ponies, should remember how talented some creatures are at subterranean construction.”

Rarity gaped.  “The Diamond Dogs?”

“At Princess Flurry’s orders, they’ve been constructing a web of tunnels underneath the Crystal Mountains.  Many of them are just underneath existing Diarchy rail lines, perhaps only a hundred feet away.  The moment she says the word, those talented diggers and builders will break through to the surface and connect the lines.  Then we just load a train with a small but elite force and ride it all the way to Old Canterlot.  We use the Diarchy’s own infrastructure against them.

“We’ll be leaving as soon as possible,” Heartwing said, and Emberglow gave Rarity a knowing look.  Indeed, once again they were just amidst the calm right before the next disaster.  “Rarity, if you don’t…”

“I’m coming, darling.  And I won’t hear anything different.”

Heartwing smiled as if he had expected nothing else.  “Of course you are.  Thank you.  We’ll wait until the doctor’s last tests come back.”  He turned to look at Topaz and Lofty.  “I’m sorry we can’t wait until after your wedding.  Unless you’d like some kind of shotgun affair.”

“Are you implying something untoward about the potential timing of our wedding, sir?” Topaz pointed an accusing hoof at him; her stern expression didn’t last long before she giggled.  “Because I’m getting a giant fairytale wedding, even if we have to postpone it until after we save the world.  Regardless of any biological details.”

“Are you…” Rarity gasped.

Topaz giggled.  “Not yet.”  She shared a glance with Lofty, and he nuzzled her.  “But we’ve decided to try.  True needs siblings.”

That was an unpleasant reminder.  “What about True?” Rarity asked.  “You can’t possibly bring him along.”

“Saints, no,” Lofty shook his head.  “Empress Cadance has agreed to watch him while we’re gone.  We’ll be back, for sure.”  He sounded so confident, so absolutely certain, that Rarity grinned.

“Why not the Princess?  She’s taken quite the liking to him.”

“She’ll be coming with us,” Heartwing said.  “That spell that keeps alicorns from entering the Diarchy?  It’s almost completely gone.  She might be weakened a little, but Princess Flurry Heart is still one of our greatest assets.  The generals fought her hard on that one.  And then Queen Chrysalis wanted in, too, but her brother talked her out of it.

“So that’s about it, ponies.  Our allies provide a distraction while we slip in and take the mountain from the small force the Mystics leave to guard it.  We hold it long enough to sort out where the Element of Magic is.  We trust in the Elements to guide us along, as much as possible.  And then hopefully together we can smash the machine and begin the process of restoring Harmony to Equestria.  Finally.”

The last word was whispered, and not a single pony in the room missed the bone-deep weariness in Heartwing’s voice.  Terminus leaned over, silently pulling Heartwing against him in a tight hug.  
> Interlude: The Winds of War
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: The Winds of War


Cobalt sat down at the conference table with a sigh.  Ninelives and Top Brass sat across from him.  The skinny zebra bore his usual neutral look, but the old earth pony looked just as exhausted as Cobalt.

“Preparations are in a good place, Sir Cobalt,” the general said.  “The military is ready to march at your word.  I assume your Knights are ready as well.  Have we heard from Sir Heartwing?”

“We have.”  Cobalt slipped the brown messenger bag he’d been wearing onto the table with a small thud.  He pulled out two letters, crinkled and shoved back into their envelopes.  “Take a look.  I don’t know what to think.”

Ninelives was quicker, pulling out first one, then the other. Cobalt watched as his eyes scanned the letters, his lips moving silently as he read.  Finally he slid them both over to Top Brass.

“They’re real.  The first one is, at least.  It’s really Heartwing, and he’s really put us all under Princess Flurry’s command.  All the cyphers are intact, so either she broke him completely, or we’re now loyal soldiers of the Crystal Empire.”

“Do you think Heartwing could be broken?” Cobalt asked.  Top Brass and Ninelives both looked up at him with blank looks.  He laughed.  “Right.  So it looks like we’re marching on New Canterlot City, then.”

“Heartwing’s orders leave lots of room for interpretation and small-scale strategy,” Top Brass said.

“That’s what I thought, too,” Cobalt said.  “I was thinking of splitting our forces.  I take the pegasus Knights, and as many other Knights as I can stuff into our airships and make haste to connect with Princess Flurry.  While you two take the regular forces, bolstered by the remaining Knights.”

“What’s our target?” Top Brass asked.

Ninelives pointed at the letter.  “Didn’t you read Sir Heartwing’s sign-off?  ‘Go and raise a ruckus, my friends’.  If you and I are off raiding the Diarchy Heartlands, they’ll have to think twice before committing their forces to fight the Crystal Ponies.”

Top Brass tapped a row of runes carved into the table, and an illusory map appeared.  He leaned forward, studying the miniature contours and topography. 

“The region around Appleoosa,” Ninelives said, pointing.  “We hit the transportation infrastructure.  Train lines, airship ports, even the small seaports along the beach.  Cut off the food supply chain between there and the capital.”

“That will certainly draw their attention.”

“We’ll have to run in small, mobile groups,” Ninelives continued.  “Swift and agile, borrowing from my people’s techniques.”  Top Brass was nodding.  “No pitched battles, strike and retreat.  Ghosts in the night.”

“Do we know what the end goal is?” Top Brass asked.  “Why now?  What’s Flurry’s endgame?”

All three stared silently at the table.  Cobalt finally broke the silence, flexing his claws against the wood of the table.

“It’s a hard thing to ask ponies to risk their lives when we don’t even know what the objective is,” he said.  “But you’re sure this letter is real?”  Ninelives nodded.  “Then I trust Heartwing.  And whatever scheme he has planned, we’ve got to give it the best chance of success.”  He felt a smile tug at the edges of his beak.  “Time to go raiding.”


*   *   *   *   *


            	Even after four years living in Griffonstone, Alto Flute was still not used to the way they built their front doors.  It made sense, in a way; Griffonstone spread vertically rather than horizontally, and space was at a premium.  So there was no real use for porches.  Instead, most front doors, including hers, had a perch in front, perfect for griffons to clutch with their claws while they pulled the door open.

            	Not quite designed for Alto Flute and her pegasus body, of course.  She hovered awkwardly above the perch as she reached out, fumbling with the doorknob with one hoof while clutching the sack of goodies in the other.

            	Finally she managed to work her front door open, just in time to brace herself for the totally expected surprise attack that hid behind it.

            	“Momma Alto!  Momma Alto!” A duet of enthused voices, spinning through the air in circles around her head, assaulted her ears with their delight.  “Guess what we did in school today?  C’mon, guess, guess!”

            	It was a chorus of joy as the twin griffon chicks cavorted and darted through the air.  Alto couldn’t hold back her own laughter; ever since Paradis and Joie had learned to fly, they’d been irrepressible in the skies.  Alto loved every second of it.

            	“Woah, there, little ones.  Let me in before you swarm me, okay?  Where’s Momma Genevieve?

            	“Bakin’ cookies cuz she says she’s proud.” Paradis finally hovered in front of her pony mother, puffing out her feathery chest with pride herself.

            	“Yeah, yeah!” Joie flew alongside her sister.  The two chicks were nearly identical; each bore the same golden yellow fur on their hind halves, and the same white feathery down on their eagle fronts.  But Joie’s feathers were streaked with grey accents, while Paradis sported pastel blues on hers.  “Proud cuz we…”

            	“Hush, Paradis!  Momma Alto’s supposed to guess!”  Both chicks backed into the house, allowing their mom to slip inside and land her tired hooves on the soft carpeted floor of their home.

            	Since her chicks had slowed down long enough for Alto to inspect them, she took the time to look over her children, in search of clues.  Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed what they were probably proud of.  Joie had broken feathers in her wings, and Paradis sported a bruise just under her eye.

            	“You dueled?” Alto Flute tried to keep her voice even.  When Sir Heartwing had asked her to move to Griffonstone as part of the Discordant’s long standing officer exchange program, he’d warned her that their oldest allies had some different ideas about honor and glory.  His standing orders were to acclimate, to fit in, to better cement the alliance.  When she’d decided to marry Genivieve, adopt her chicks as her own children, and set up a permanent home here, she’d sworn to uphold their traditions as her own.  That didn’t mean she had to like her own kids getting involved, though.

            	“Yeah, yeah!  And we WON!” Joie pumped a clenched claw in the air.  “I challenged Yolanda cuz she’s a stupidfeather who said I had a dumb pony name, and Paradis challenged Umbra cuz she said mean stuff about… um…” Joie trailed off, shooting nervous glances between Paradis and Alto.  Alto could guess the reason; she’d known when she adopted them that they might face some issues because of her.

            	“I don’t like you calling your dueling opponent names,” Alto chided.  “Did they act with honor?”

            	“Yes,” both chicks intoned, deflating a little.

            	“Did you?”

            	“Yeah, yeah!” Paradis said, and both of them brightened again.  “Mister Javier said we did good, thanking our opponents and showing re… res…” Paradis’ beak screwed up in an adorable look of concentration.

            	“Restraint?” Alto said, and the chicks nodded brightly.  “Well, then, I’m proud of you too.  Nobody’s permanently hurt, are they?”  She couldn’t help but let a note of worry creep in.

            	“Nah, we’re not allowed to duel to first blood, so it’s three hits, and then it’s over,” Joie said.  “Yolanda only got me twice, and Umbra got a lucky hit on Paradis’ face.”  Paradis helpfully showed off her bruise.  Alto forced a smile she didn’t quite feel.

            	“Well done, both of you.  Now, let me through.  I brought scones for dinner, and I’d love to kiss your Momma hello.  Both of you go wash up for dinner.”

            	Both children made appropriate faces of disgust at her plan, which brought back some of Alto’s good mood.  They rushed off towards the bathroom, and Alto moved towards the kitchen at a more sedate pace, smiling at the crayon drawings and family photographs that covered the entry hall walls.

            	Genivieve was indeed hard at work in the kitchen, spooning lumps of sweet batter onto a baking sheet.  A grin spread across her face as she saw Alto Flute, who floated over with a flick of her wings to smooch her wife on the beak.  “Hey, gorgeous.”

            	“Hey yourself.”  Gen held out the spoon towards Alto.  “Give it a try.”

            	Alto licked the spoon tentatively, then beamed as the flavor of chocolate and raspberries exploded on her tongue.  “Wow.  Intense.  I like.”

            	“Thanks.  I assume the kids told you their news?”

            	“They did.”  Here, she could show her distaste.  Gen gave her a sympathetic look.  “I know.  It’s your way.”

            	“Our way,” Gen corrected.  “You’re one of us, now.  Even King Grover said so.”

            	“Yeah.”  Alto smiled.  “Just takes some getting used to when it’s my kids dueling, you know?”

            	“I get it.”  Gen pointed at the small kitchen table, stacked with a pile of envelopes.  “You got a letter from Angel’s Rest.  It’s on the top of the stack.  Have a seat and read, in just a bit the first batch will be out of the oven and you can try the finished product.”

            	Curious, Alto slid into the talon-carved wooden seat and grabbed the top envelope on the stack.  It was indeed from Angel’s Rest, sent directly to the Griffonstone post office via dragonfire scroll.  Idly Alto wished she could have mail delivered instantly, but the beacons that guided enchanted mail delivery were too expensive to have in a private home.  She tore the letter open and pulled out the paper inside, growing more and more alert as she read.

            	“Um, love?  Could you…” she felt her heart pounding in her ears, and her breath came quickly.  “C-could you help me with my armor?  I need to go see the King.”

            	“Can’t it wait until after dinner?” Gen said, eyeing the bag of scones Alto had brought.

            	“No.  No, love.  I have to see him right away.”  She looked up to see the hint of fear in Gen’s eyes.  “I… I’ll tell you when I get back.”  Fear became hurt, and Alto smiled reassuringly.  “It’s not secret, just important.  And you know how your cousin gets prickly sometimes.  You think he’d be okay if I got the biggest news of my life, and told you before him?”

            	Gen shuddered, though she was smiling.  “You’re right, you’re right.  You think you’ll be home in time for dinner, though?”

            	Alto hesitated.  “Save some for me, okay?  This could take a while.”

            	A few minutes later, Alto Flute was once again flying through the skies of Griffonstone, this time clad in her yellow Discordant armor and carrying her spear.  As she flew towards the palace, she idly remembered a time when the sight of her would have been greeted with stares.  Now the griffons she passed either ignored her or nodded politely.

            	Open court in Griffonstone took the concept quite literally.  A wide platform flanked by pillars sat at the very top of the palace.  It was open to the sunset skies above, serving as the public audience hall for when King Grover the Fifteenth was holding court.  Alto Flute landed on the guarded platform that served as a formal entry point for those wishing to approach the throne. 

            	Alto could see that court was quite busy today, with dozens of griffons fluttering about, shouting and arguing with each other at the top of their lungs.  There was an honor duel in progress, two griffon hens with blunted gauntlets covering the sharp tips of their claws, circling each other trying to find an opening and strike.

            	The guards glanced nervously at her as she approached.  It was a rare event to see the Knight in her armor these days, and they suspected trouble.  Instead, Alto Flute bowed low and laid her spear on the ground.

            	“Lady Alto Flute of the Knights Discordant, wishing to approach the king, presents her spear in pledge of peace.”  It had been years since she’d had to use the ritual to approach King Grover, and the guards knew it, staring at each other in shock.  But Alto knew that the urgency of her news merited it, and the formality would appeal to him.

            	Indeed, several members of court had noticed the method and behavior of her arrival.  The furor was dying down, replaced by stunned silence.

            	“E-enter in peace,” one guard whispered, finally remembering the rest of the ritual.  “Carry your honor with you.”  Alto nodded, leaving her spear where it was as she stood and stepped boldly into the center of the open space.

            	The duel had paused, the two combatants staring at Alto as she moved towards the throne.  King Grover the Fifteenth, a majestic middle-aged griffon with golden feathers and fur, sat proudly on the noble throne that his family had held for the last five centuries.  “Lady Alto.  My friend and cousin-in-law.  Approach the throne.”  She moved until she stood just beneath the throne’s raised dais, and the king lowered his voice so only she could hear.  “Is the news so dire as to require such procedure, my friend?”

            	“Not dire, but important,” Alto said.  She held out the letter to him.  “I have received word from my comrades in Angel’s Rest.”

            	She watched the king’s eyes closely as they darted back and forth over the paper.  Slowly his eyebrows narrowed, even as his beak curved into a grin.  The entire throne room felt tense behind her, coiled and waiting to hear the news from their king.

            	Finally he looked up, meeting her eyes, as his grin spread to a full smile.  “Lady Alto, you have brought me the most wonderful news.”  He surged into the air, beating his wings to fly a few griffon-lengths above the rest of the court.  “My friends and subjects, our ally and friend from the Discordant has brought me news.  The Crystal Empire marches to war against the Diarchy!”

The air was cut with the screeches of griffon battle cries; several pumped clenched claws into the air, though King Grover held up his own open for silence.  It was a long time before the court had quieted enough to hear the King’s next words.

            	“Our oldest allies have joined themselves with the Empire and have managed to light a fire under the pink pony princess’ rump.”  Assembled laughter rippled through the crowd.  “We do not know the entirety of their plan, but they mean to move on the capital itself!  Now, our dear friends do not ask for our aid.  But we owe a debt.  A debt of honor, and of family.  I say we draw the Diarchy bastards’ forces thin and draw their eyes to the North!  I say it’s time to smash the forts along our borders, drive the Diarchy from our lands, and teach them to tremble in their tin can armor whenever they see a winged shadow overhead!”

The court roared its approval at his speech.  Only Alto was close enough to see the king’s almost imperceptible sigh of relief.  In truth, the griffon monarchy was much more democratic than it appeared; if the king didn’t have his people’s support, he probably could have done nothing.

But honor ran deep in the griffons, and a debt was a debt.  She leaned over with hoof and wing to give the King a tight embrace.

“I’ve told you before, cousin,” he grunted.  “Hugging isn’t really a griffon thing.”

“I know,” Alto whispered.  “Thank you.”


*   *   *   *   *


Dragonlord Ember played with the staff in her claws.  It was a tiny thing, now, so much smaller than when she’d first held it high in victory.

A victory earned by friendship.

Now she could pinch it between one finger and her thumb.

“You think I’ll object?”

It was an old voice, nearly as ancient as her.  The Dragonlord turned her head, peering through the smoke and heat of the old volcano cone to one of her oldest friends.  The Voice of Peace had been her advisor for centuries, and was now watching her intently, her cyan eyes unreadable.

“Isn’t that your job?” Ember snorted, a huff of smoke slipping out of her nostrils.  “I created your title to be the voice of civility, reason, and friendship.  You’ve spent the last eight centuries telling me I’m wrong.”

“Which you told me to,” Smolder noted. “And you listen.”

“Sometimes.” Ember snorted again.  “I assume if you’re here, that means you heard about the messenger.  Go ahead.  Tell me to do nothing again.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what you always do!” Ember growled.

Smolder laughed.  “Perhaps.  But again, that was my job description.  You wanted me to advocate for peace, to be the voice of calmness and rationality.  It’s why you assigned yourself two different voices, two advisors, a voice of peace and a voice of war.”  A confident smirk slipped over the old dragon’s maw.  “I’d like to think I’m pretty good at it, as you’ve kept me here for centuries, while you’ve had, how many is it?”

“You know the answer to that.”  Thirteen.  There had been thirteen different Voices of War.  And only one Voice of Peace.  A constant throughout her reign.  “So go ahead.  Tell me to do nothing again.”

“Not this time,” Smolder said, and Ember’s head shot up, her wings beating involuntarily in shock, sending volcanic ash swirling through the air.

“But…”

“Have you heard that Rarity is back?” Smolder said, and Ember blinked, taken aback by the non-sequitur.

“That’s… a rumor.  Some kind of game Discord and his toy knights are playing.”

“Not according to Spike,” Smolder said.

“You talked to the old lizard?” Ember snorted, holding back the sudden stab of jealousy and dismay.  Spike wouldn’t speak with her.

“I even have the missing scales to prove it.” Smolder turned her shoulder, showing off the shallow claw marks there.

“He attacked you?”

“It was more of a warning.” Smolder shrugged.  “He’s not nearly as grumpy as he puts on.”  She shook her head.  “But that’s not important.  What is important is that Spike confirmed the rumors.  Rarity is alive.  She’s collecting the Elements of Harmony.  As far as I know, they’ve found three of them.  And bearers.”

“So that’s what Flurry is up to.”  The Elements of Harmony.  Ember had long ago set aside any hope at true peace with ponies, but something about those old artifacts fanned the flames again.  She looked into Smolder’s hopeful eyes.  “You’re agreeing with the Voice of War’s position.  You want to go to their aid.”

“Is it so weird that I want to see Professor Rarity again?” Smolder smirked.

For an instant, Ember could see the shadow of the young dragon Smolder once was.


*   *   *   *   *


Ardent Communion was out of breath.  He’d been running nearly non-stop for a day, after all, but even athletic earth ponies, buoyed up by rune spells, could only run for so long.  But when he’d set out from Portia Protea he’d had no idea where Blue Jasper’s band of fighters was currently hiding.

Honestly, it was pure luck that he’d found them within one day.  The Limitless Blue were notoriously impossible to find.

As his hooves churned up the desert sand, though, he caught a glimpse of the sun reflecting off the barrel of a long rifle.  Maybe not luck, then, but something else.  He’d been spotted.

Ardent took a moment to catch his breath, glancing deliberately towards the sniper who had so politely announced their presence.  The Limitless Blue knew he was a friend, but that didn’t stop his heart from pounding nervously.  Not everypony was familiar with the Discordant, or would know what the yellow stripes on his lavender armor would mean.

When no rifle fire came roaring from the distant glint, he began walking again, moving slowly and non threateningly towards the distant dune.

It wasn’t long before a cadre of zebras, draped head to hoof in desert camouflage, emerged from behind the sniper’s dune and began trotting his way.  He upped his pace to meet them.

The leader was a zebra mare, tall and muscled with a bright orange cord, the same color as Ardent’s mane, braided into her mane and tail.  She kept pace with her squad as long as she could, before breaking into a gallop with a delighted cry and rushing into his hooves.

“I missed you, Annika,” he whispered into her mane as she held him tight.  “It has been too long.”

“But you are here now, so my joy is full,” she said back to him, holding him out at hooves length to stare into his eyes.  “Your timing is excellent, my husband.  But what brings you out to the dunes?”

“Message for Blue Jasper.  Two, actually, though the first is late.”

She eyed the black band strapped around the armor covering his leg.  “Dire news?”

“One bit, yes.  Lady Justice has fallen in battle.”

The zebras around him hissed angrily, and Annika spat a string of curse words in her native tongue.  “Come.  Jasper will need to hear this.”

The zebra fighters surrounded Ardent in a tight escort as they led him into camp.  He’d spent years among the Limitless Blue, but every time he entered he was still amazed at the way they were able to effortlessly blend their camp into the environment.  The desert camp consisted of dozens of tents partially buried in the sand, made from gritty, mottled cloths that perfectly blended with the surroundings.

He doubted even a pegasus scout would be able to spot it unless they were right on top of it.

The largest tent sat in the middle of the camp, against the side of a dune several ponies tall.  Two nearly invisible zebras waited outside.

“Wait here,” Annika said, stepping towards the tent, before hesitating.  With a shy, almost girlish grin she leaned over and kissed him quickly on the cheek.  “I’ll be only a moment.”

“I shall count the heartbeats,” he said back with a confident smile, and the tall warrior mare giggled like a filly.  The other soldiers shared amused looks while Annika slipped through the beige tent flap.

He didn’t have to count long.  There was a hushed explosion of voices before Annika emerged, this time with an elderly zebra stallion in tow.  He was spry, with sapphire eyes that sparkled with energy and a thinning mane that he kept habitually dyed blue.

“Ardent Communion, you bring dire news, my friend,” the old shaman said as he reached out to hug the Knight.  “Is it true that Lady Justice met her end?”

“I’m sorry, Jasper,” Ardent said.  “It is true.  I would have sought you out sooner, but things have been happening quickly.  There is more news, and I was asked to wait for an official message.”

He reached back into his saddlebags, pulling out a sealed missive only slightly crumpled from his run.  Jasper took it, inspecting the wax seal on the outside, bearing the sigil of the Crystal Heart.

“You know what the contents are?” he asked.  Ardent nodded.  “I’ll have to ask that you do not go far.”  He broke the seal open, pulling out the letter on the spot.  His eyes scanned the page, hardening as they went.

“Soldiers, our friend had a hard run.  Please find him refreshments to recover from the sun.  Annika, find the others.  I believe they are resting beneath their own covers.”

“Others?” Ardent asked, as the soldiers rushed off to follow the old shaman’s orders.  Jasper merely smiled and beckoned with one hoof inside his tent.  Ardent shrugged and followed him.

Jasper’s tent was a monument to a life lived fully; there was a wooden rack full of an assortment of blades and guns, all notched and marked with use.  The cloth walls were sewn with the names and cutie marks of ponies and zebras long passed.  Hanging from the wooden frame were keepsakes and trinkets, a hundred little mementos of his travels.

“It breaks my heart, this news you bring,” Jasper sighed.  “Nothing I can do will take away the sting.”

“I know I shall miss her sorely,” Ardent said.  Justice had been one of his first mentors in the Discordant, the first pony to help him through his faith transition.

“There is something coming that you need to see.  Something that Justice long sought to be.  I had thought not to start today, but the omens have shown me it must be this way.”

“What are you…”

“Be patient, young Knight.  For I seek to bring new allies to your fight.”

With that, Jasper sat down in the middle of the tent, closing his eyes.  Ardent wanted to push him, his burning curiosity like an untended itch, but he held back.  He was sure he’d find out soon.

It did only take a few minutes before the tent flap once again opened.  Annika entered, alongside two other zebra fighters.  Following them was what looked sort of like a unicorn, but unlike any Ardent had ever seen.  He had a curved green horn that split at the end, and his voluminous brown mane fluffed around his face like a lion’s.  Ardent was sure he could see patches of what looked like dragon scales on the creature’s body.

Another strange creature followed the first.  This one was a pony, much like a pegasus, but with membranous bat-like wings extending from her navy-blue torso.  She had a long ice-blue mane tied into pigtails, and when her slit-like eyes spied Ardent and his armor, she hissed, arching her spine and spreading her wings threateningly.  Ardent was sure he could see fangs.

“Be at peace, Raspberry Ice.  This Knight Discordant is really quite nice.”

“Discordant!  But…” the strange pegasus’ eyes zeroed on the yellow bands, and she visibly relaxed.  “Uh, sorry.  But why is he here?  Isn’t he already…”

“Be patient, please,” the dragon-pony said.  “I’m sure Jasper has a good reason for this.”

“I do, indeed.  Ardent Communion’s presence serves a need.  While our deeds today must be occluded, the Discordant have to be included.  Ardent will be allowed to observe; it’s no less than our allies deserve.”

Everypony else nodded slowly, even the bat pegasus.  Ardent was now even more confused, but one thing his training in the Mystics had given him was the ability to stay stoic in the face of odd or inexplicable things happening about him.  Discretion was prized among his former brothers and sisters.

“Now, Deep Root tells me he’s been successful.  To wait any longer would be far too stressful.”  The dragon pony creature nodded his head.  “With zebra alchemy, thestral artifice, and kirin magic, we have come to a result we hope will not be tragic.  But I do need to warn; it is possible that your lives could be torn.  Nothing important is without threat, but none of us here will balk, I’d bet.  Still, if you need to leave, I think none of us here would grieve.”

“I’m staying.  I’ll accept the risk.”  Annika’s eyes blazed with passion, and her gaze met Ardent’s.  He knew his brow was furrowed with confusion, but she smiled slightly.  Whatever was happening, she was happy with it, and Ardent trusted his wife with his life.

The other zebras voiced their confidence as well, and the kirin and thestral (as Jasper had called them) both nodded confidently.

“Then candidates, gather in a ring!  Ardent, you and I will wait outside the thing.”  The three zebras, the thestral, and the kirin all formed a rough circle, facing each other.  Annika took a moment to give Ardent a quick hug.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered.  “This is a good thing.”

“I trust you,” he said simply, and she squeezed him tightly before rejoining the circle. 

“Now, I am told by Deep Root, that the danger to your lives is not moot.  Focus and concentration are a must, or the entire process could be a bust.  So to sharpen your minds on your goals, your own motivations you will extol.  Tell us why you fight, to remind you of your strength and your light.  We will start with Deep Root; tell us how your path lead to this fruit.”

“Share why I want to fight, hm?”  The kirin’s voice was soft, a nervous sort of tenor.  “I could tell you all about my people.  How for hundreds of years, we’ve lived in the shadow of the Great Tree.  How we listen to her voice, and feel her pulse.  I could say it was her will that I come here, and join my people’s might to the zebras in fighting to drive the cancer from their shores.”  He chuckled weakly.  “But if I’m being honest, it’s all for me.  I need to see how far I can go.  How much I can push myself.  Um, that’s all.”  He turned to the next in the circle, a zebra stallion.

“I fight for Justice,” he said.  “Both the pony and the virtue.  She died too soon.  I’ll happily die to follow her cause.”

Next was the thestral.  “I’m fighting for home.”  She waved a hoof, her wings trembling as she spoke.  “This isn’t our home.  My people don’t have one, and haven’t for centuries.  We did, once.  We had a home, and a princess.  We had quiet cities and communities.  The zebra lands are wonderful and beautiful and plentiful.  But they’re not ours.  With this we can repay our gracious hosts, and maybe even carve out a place for ourselves, somewhere.”

Another zebra stallion was next.  “I fight for peace.  My mother, my brother, my grandfather, and my nephew have all fallen to Diarchy violence.  I hate to shed blood.  But I’ll spill mine and theirs before another innocent feels the bite of a Diarchy spear.”

Last was Annika.  She matched eyes with Ardent.  “I fight for love.”  The others waited for her to say more, but she shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears.  Ardent wiped one from his own eye.

“Keep your reasons first in your mind, and all the strength you need, you’ll find.  When you survive this ordeal, a bell of freedom and truth will peal.”  Jasper picked up a wooden case, flipping the metal latch and pulling it open.  Ardent gasped.  Inside were five vials of a hauntingly familiar looking potion.  He nearly spoke, but Annika once again met his eyes and shook her head.  He gulped, and nodded back.

“I trust you,” he mouthed wordlessly.

Jasper began to pass out the potions to each of the creatures.  Each one took it in their hooves; some eagerly, some with determination and trepidation mixed.  Ardent’s heart was beating so loudly in his chest he could hear it.  He felt ill.

“Now, speak, you all, the oath we have penned.  Upon you all of our hopes depend.”

They spoke in unison, and Ardent felt both pride and terror at war raging within his breast.

            	“We are the blades of the oppressed

            	the light in the murky dark.

            	We stand against those who harm the weak

            	and shed our blood to the last drop. 

            	We are reborn with family anew

            	Zebrica is our Mother

            	our fellow Knights are brother and sister

            	and the innocent are our children.

            	We swear these oaths:

            	We will drive the usurpers from Mother’s shores

            	We will lift up our brothers and sisters

            	We will keep our children safe.

            	We name ourselves the Knights of the Mother, and this oath binds us as one.”

As they spoke, Jasper moved between them all, handing each creature one of the vials.  Ardent’s heart was threatening to burst as he saw his beloved, his dearest Annika, holding the dangerous, wonderful, cursed concoction in her hooves.

“You have chosen a grandmaster to lead you, and keep your hooves on the path, true?” Jasper asked.  They all nodded.

“I have agreed to serve the Order of the Mother in this way,” Annika said firmly, and Ardent’s chest swelled with pride.  She cleared her throat.  “Ancient records speak of a zebra so wise and kind, that even the ponies’ legendary Princess of Friendship went to her for advice.  Just as our enemies paint their armor with the symbols of their false Saints, we will mark ourselves in honor of the shaman so wise even the immortals sought her wisdom.  Now, Knights, drink your potions, and step into your destinies.”

One by one they removed the corks from their potions, upending the liquid into their mouths.  Ardent knew well what came next.  First their faces twisted with discomfort at the taste; chalky and a little bitter.  Then came the cramps, the pain, the lightning as the magic spread over the whole body.

Annika kept her eyes open the entire time, locked to his.  They brimmed with tears as her jaw clenched, but the two lovers kept their eyes on each other. 

I will give you what strength I can, he tried to say with his look, and hoped she understood.


*   *   *   *   *


“It’s oddly beautiful, isn’t it?  Even in monochrome.”

Katyusha was long used to her mentor’s odd habits of sneaking up on her.  The elderly Knight Adamant may have been far past reasonable retirement age, but he could still move more quietly than she would have guessed.

She suspected it had something to do with the snow.  The balcony was covered in enough of a fresh layer to muffle any hoofsteps.  She didn’t even turn to look at him approaching from the Outpost interior. 

“I think so, Sir Lamplight.”  She lifted a hoof, draped in a faux-fur lined version of her Squire robes.  It was necessary this far north, up against the foothills of the southern edge of the Crystal Mountains.  The snow-draped peaks spiked into the sky, a pristine white with only the hint of rose glow from the massive shield behind them.  “I’ve always enjoyed the sight of fresh snow, though.  The pure silence of it.”

“Heh.  You can keep it.  Snow’s bad for my joints.”

It was a common complaint, and Katyusha merely nodded.  She was used to that sort of thing back in her home of Stalliongrad; the old babushkas and dedushkas had made an art of stoic complaining.  Particularly about the cold weather.

“Well, it’s a good thing you can get some pleasure out of it,” Sir Lamplight continued, shaking his grey mane.  “Saints know there’s nothing else good about this posting.”

He’d made it clear, on the train north all those months ago, that Outpost 39 was a dead end for Knights like him.  He’d been too outspoken and too much of a problem for too long, so they’d banished him to the world’s coldest listening post, watching for any sign of motion from over the mountains.  Motion, they’d assured him, that hadn’t come in centuries, and would likely never come.  The only concession to his years of service in the Adamant was that he was still allowed to take the occasional squire, such as Katyusha.

She didn’t mind in the slightest.  She loved the cold, and she loved the cranky old stallion that came with it.  The solitude didn’t bother her much, either, and the small squad of regular army recruits attached to the Outpost treated her like an odd mix of Knight and mascot.  She’d be sorry when, in a month’s time, she’d have to board a train back south, to take on the next stage of her Knight training. 

“Another avalanche?” Sir Lamplight said suddenly, and Katyusha looked up at the mountain.  In the distance, a cloud of churning snow was just rising from one of the passes between Sapphire Peak and Rubyspire Peak.  She squinted; how had the old stallion seen it before her?

“I’ll get the log and note it,” she said, but he grunted, holding up a hoof to stop her.  His ears twitched.

“Wait, listen.  Can you hear that?”

She leaned forward, straining against the cold iron railing of the balcony, her ears perked forward.  The avalanche was too far off to hear, just yet. 

“Hear what?”

“It sounds like…” Sir Lamplight trailed off, his gaze shooting up.  “Huh.  Katyusha.  Where’s the glow?”

“Glow?”

“The pink aura of the shield.  Where…”

Katyusha’s eyes shot to the snow at the tops of the mountains, usually illuminated by the subtle aura of the Crystal Empire’s barrier.  It was gone.

“Kat?  Go back inside.”  Sir Lamplight’s voice was deadly serious.  “Signal Outpost 23.  Code Volcano.  Tell the soldiers to be ready for attack.”

She had no idea what Code Volcano meant, but there was no arguing with Sir Lamplight’s voice.  She rushed back inside, shouting as she sprinted down the stairs.  “To arms!  To arms!  We’re under attack!”

Soldiers, dressed in regular uniforms, sat casually around a table playing cards.  She knew them, had eaten with them for months.

“This some kinda joke?” the sergeant, a middle aged mare named Unicycle, gave Katyusha a smile.  “Not really subtle, Kat.  What’s…”

“No joke,” she interrupted.  “Sir Lamplight’s orders.  The shield is gone, and something is coming down the mountain!  He says ‘Code Volcano’.”

The soldier’s smiles disappeared, and they muttered but stood, reaching about for rifles and spears.

“You know where the radio is, Kat,” the sergeant said.  “I’ll take the old Knight his spear.”

Katyusha nodded and rushed back into the radio room.  Learning to operate the outdated machinery had been one of the first things she’d done here; chatting with the other outposts was one of the few ways to pass the time up north.  She flipped the on switch, hearing a burst of static.

Carefully she turned the frequency dial, tuning in to the open channel they kept with their closest neighboring outpost.  Nervously she picked up the mouthpiece and held down the send button.

“Outpost 39 calling Outpost 23, over.” She spoke clearly and deliberately, then took her hoof off the button.  Quiet static answered her back.  She waited a few breaths, then repeated herself.  Again.  A third time.  Still nothing.

“Outpost 39 calling Outpost 23, this is a Code Volcano.  Please confirm.  Over.”

Again she waited.  Again nothing.

“This is Outpost 39, calling to any outpost that might be listening.  Code Volcano.  Over.”

Each heartbeat in the silence that followed thudded loudly in her chest.  With a gulp, she set the mouthpiece back down.  Each step made her hooves feel like lead.

On the balcony, the soldiers were lined along the iron railing, aiming their weapons at the distant descending avalanche.  She could hear the rumble of descending snow, only it didn’t sound quite natural.  Almost like hooves.

Lamplight had a spear at his side, though he also held a rifle himself.  “Response?”

“N-none, sir.  I’m not getting through.”

“You’ll have to go on hoof, then.  You have two minutes to grab an emergency pack and get out.  Take a map.  Bypass Outpost 23, head for the village of Last Stop.  Do whatever you can to get the news to Lady Meteorflare, of the Adamant.  She commands the Army’s 3rd Northern Division.”

“But sir, I can’t…”

“I order it, squire.  Go now or I cannot recommend you for Knighthood.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she nodded, running down into the supply room.  The emergency packs were well stocked and ready, and she pulled one off its hook and threw it around her torso, tightening the buckle with her teeth.  Instead of running out the door, though, she made one last trip up to the balcony.

“What do I tell them, sir?”  She could hear distinct voices in the avalanche, a battle chant of some sort, yelling ‘yak smash, yak smash,’ over and over.  She had no idea what it meant, though she was beginning to see hints of brown fur and some kind of armor through the snowy cover.  “At Last Stop.”

“Tell them Outpost 39 has fallen, and that the Diachy is under attack from the Empire.  And if you can, as you run, pray for us.  It was an honor, Squire Katyusha.  Now run!”

Katyusha turned and ran.
> Chapter 58
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 58


Recording of a Radio Free Equestria broadcast, taken 1113 AF. Listening to, recording, or possession of so-called ‘pirate radio’ broadcasts are to be considered an act of heresy and will be punished accordingly.

H-hey, New Canterlot City.  Thank you for tuning into Radio Free Equestria tonight.  This is your host, Cutting Wave.

Yes, I know what you’re all thinking.  Cutting Wave was a stallion, with a bombastic voice and charisma, not some sh-shrinking mare with a bit of a nervous stutter and no real confidence.

The truth is, Cutting Wave was my husband for fifteen years.  I loved him more than life itself.  He was my sun and my moon, he was the rain on my flowers and the bubbles in my soda pop.  He was my everything.  And the Diarchy killed him for telling the truth.

I’d like to pretend that he’s still alive somewhere, but we all know better than that, don’t we?

(The voice pauses, interrupted by a series of sobs, followed by several deep breaths.)

I’m sorry.  I’m not much of a professional broadcaster.  That was always Cut.  He was a genius at this.  I just managed the equipment and produced his segments.  But during our last broadcast, we were raided by a Mystic black bag squad.

I…

(There are several more deep breaths.)

It’s hard to talk about that night.  My love, my other half, distracted the Knights so that I could get Fiery Mantle and myself to safety.

I wish I’d died that night, too.  Then I’d be…

(More sobbing.)

I-I’m sorry.  This isn’t the usual program you all tune into.  I’m not doing justice to Cut, to his work and to his passion.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do what he could, to inspire and enflame in the ways that seemed to come so effortlessly to Cut.  But I’m going to try.

I think… I think I did die that night, when Cut was taken.  But if so, I died so that I could be reborn.

Cutting Wave believed that the most important ingredient for a free society was a free press.  It was his dream to see a day when radio broadcasters, newspaper journalists, authors, playwrights, and free-thinkers could all say what they wanted, free from the fear of Diarchy censors.  ‘The free exchange of ideas will break our shackles faster than any army’, he liked to say.

So I want to announce something to all of Cutting Wave’s faithful listeners.

Cutting Wave died.  But Cutting Wave was more than a pony.  He was an idea.  And you can only kill the idea if you kill every pony that longs for the freedom of ideas.

Who I was is dead.  I am now Cutting Wave.  And Sir Steadfast Word?  You can find me, maybe.  You can kill me, too.  But there will be another Cutting Wave.  And another.  And another.  A thousand times you can kill Cutting Wave, and a thousand times I will come back to haunt you.

Because you can kill a pony, Steadfast Word.  But you can’t kill the truth.

Crystal Empire, 1113 AF

Emberglow would have liked to wait until things were more settled.

To be fair, Emberglow would have liked to wait for a lot of things.  The idea of returning home, even if it was only as far as Old Canterlot, was like a sliver in her hoof.  Always there, never quite fading.

They had one day to pack.  The Crystal Fair would be a week-long event, she’d heard, but they were likely to be gone before it was over.   Rarity, of course, was in a huff because she was still confined to the infirmary, leaving the packing to Emberglow.

A terrifying responsibility, to be sure, Emberglow thought with some amusement.  Emberglow knew she was a practical soul, and she also knew Rarity had issues with space management when it came to packing.  It was a touch intimidating to be in charge of Rarity’s wardrobe, given its size. As Emberglow stood in Rarity’s room, surrounded by the dozens of dresses Rarity had managed to either acquire or craft during their time in the Empire, she was paralyzed by choice.

It didn’t help that she was on a time limit.  At least all her own packing was done.

At first, Emberglow had theorized that spreading out all of Rarity’s new dresses across the suite’s couch and loveseat would make her choices easier, by adding a visual element to the process.  It did not.

Every single piece in Rarity’s admittedly fresh collection was astounding.

Here sat a daring evening gown, with a low hem but a scandalously high slit in the skirt, done up in crimson silk.

Next to it was a pastel blue coat, lined with brown faux fur and soft as velvet.

Then there was a winter dress, fawn brown done up in wool with white snowflake designs across the bottom.

Across from those was a ball gown, pink with almost comically puffy sleeves and violet accents.

Next to the gown was a dressing robe, monogramed with a stitched ‘R’ and a three-diamond cutie mark.

On one of the chairs was a veritable mountain of scarves in every color, material, and subjective level of practicality. 

And on the floor, in the middle of the violent explosion of color and cloth, was an empty set of saddlebags.

“Saints protect me,” Emberglow laughed out loud.  The prayer was still an automatic response sometimes, but it was heartfelt now.  She could already see Rarity in her wrath, beautiful and glorious and terrifying.

Rarity herself, however, had been no help.

“Oh, just pack whatever, darling.  I trust your judgment.”

Right.  And Emberglow was sure Rarity had meant it at the time.  She laughed again, going back to considering the mass of clothing.

And that wasn’t even considering the drawer in the top of the armoire on the north wall; it was a drawer that Emberglow hadn’t had the courage to even touch yet.

Rarity’s… intimates.

“I realize we won’t have much time for…” Rarity had cleared her throat, “…romantic recreation.  But feel free to take a glance and pack whatever you think might look nice.  Just in case we are able to find a moment of privacy.”

Emberglow wasn’t sure she’d even be able to look.  She was also sure that if she didn’t, she’d never forgive herself.

It was certainly a dilemma.  She could talk to her therapist about it, but Emberglow was pretty sure what Topaz would say.  Besides, Topaz had other things on her mind.  Emberglow hadn’t been there when Topaz and Lofty had explained to True that they would be going off and leaving him in the care of the Empress.  But apparently it hadn’t gone over well with the young foal.

So the best thing to do now was avoidance, right?  Emberglow laughed at her own thoughts.  She was certain of what Topaz would say about that, too.  She promised herself she’d take care of it, just as soon as she narrowed down the dress packing to…

“Four dresses,” she said out loud.  “Two practical, two fun.  No more.  And if Rarity protests, I’ll… I’ll kiss her!”

A giddy little giggle of excitement bubbled out of Emberglow’s chest.  She was being silly.  She carefully folded the fawn winter dress, then rooted through the displayed garments to find a similar one in white-dyed fleece.  For fun dresses, though, she hesitated. 

Emberglow was interrupted by a knock on the door, before it cracked open.

“Lady Emberglow, ma’am?”  Iron Shod called in without looking.  Their guards really were a model of discretion.  “Sir Heartwing is here to see you.”

“Come in, Heartwing!” Emberglow tried not to sound too excited.  Maybe she needed some help.

Heartwing’s eyes sparkled as they surveyed the chaotic kaleidoscope of cloth sprayed across the room.  “She made you pack for her, huh?”

“I offered.  But…”

“Now you’re wishing you hadn’t,”  he cackled, before shoving some of the dresses aside so he could flop onto the love seat. 

She shrugged. “I just can’t pick.”

“Maybe think about it this way.  Don’t worry about what she might want.  Pick out something that you wouldn’t mind seeing her wearing.  And if she complains, just tell her that.”

“That?”

“That you picked things you wanna see her wear.  She’ll coo at you a little, flutter her eyelashes, then you kiss her and all is forgiven.”

“That’s… almost exactly what she said about…” Emberglow snapped her mouth shut before she could verbalize the thought.  She couldn’t help but glance towards the drawer, though.

“What she said about what?” Heartwing’s eyes narrowed slyly. 

“Nothing!” Emberglow squeaked, then flinched.  Heartwing waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and it was enough to flood her face with embarrassment.  “N-never mind that.  What can I help you with?”  It was past time to change the subject.

“You pick your dresses, and I’ll talk, okay?  I have something I want to pick your brain about.  Just focus on imagining Rarity in each of those dresses.  How her curves fill out the lines of the garment, how nice it would look draped over her… or on the floor after you…”

“I have guards now, Heartwing.  I’ll kick you out.  They like me a lot, you know.”

“Noted,” Heartwing laughed.  Emberglow smirked at him, and turned her attention back to the dresses.  It was embarrassing to think about, but she could picture Rarity in each of the pieces of clothing spread out on the couches.  “I’ll be good.  There’s… something I wanted to talk to you about anyways.”

“Sure,” Emberglow said.  She ran her hoof over a purple velvet dress.  Now she couldn’t help but imagine feeling Rarity’s warmth underneath the dress.  Heartwing had injected a sensuality into her task, and she couldn’t exactly be angry at him for it.

“I’ve been working closely with the Empire’s military leaders for a few weeks now.  They’re all professionals, you know.  And very loyal.”  He sounded impressed.  “But with the exception of the changelings in the intelligence service, there’s very little practical experience.  So part of my plea agreement is that I’m the top general now.”

“Right…” Emberglow was still listening as she lifted a red silk miniskirt.  The images that created were a bit too much, so she gulped and put it back down.

“The more I talk to them, though, the more… unsettled I get.  Every single general, every officer and soldier I come in contact with… they all love the Empress, and the Princess.  So maybe they’re naïve and inexperienced, but they’re dedicated.  What they lack in killer instinct is made up for in their love for their leaders.”

With each word, Heartwing became more and more solemn. 

“They’re like sheep, Emberglow.  And I’m the wolf that’s going to lead them to their deaths.”  His voice had dropped to a whisper.  “Just like I did for the Discordant.  It would be so easy.  It’s what they want, after all.  They’re so innocent.  They still talk about the glories of battle.  Righteous war.  They’ll follow me without question.”

Emberglow stopped, and paced to where Heartwing sat.  He had leaned forward in his seat, his head hidden by his hooves.  The lines of his body were slumped with tired weight.  She sat down next to him, ignoring the evening gown she was crumpling.  After a moment of hesitation she leaned into Heartwing, hugging him with one wing.  This close, she could smell the sour tang of wine on him.

“The Discordant were easier,” Heartwing sighed.  “Terminus thinks I’m a fool for it, but… I get to know each one.  Every one of you is my… my responsibility.  You’re like my children.”

Emberglow could feel the weight of his words, even though the wine she could smell probably had something to do with it.  She swallowed, hugging him closer.

“At least with you all, I could remember.  How am I supposed to remember, Emberglow?  I’m a general now.  There’s so many of them.  I can’t learn all of their names.  I can’t.  What if it’s too much?”

“Heartwing…”

“There was a time,” Heartwing interrupted her.  “A time where ponies were nothing but toys to me.  Playthings.  I moved them about like dolls.  Destroyed their lives like it was foal’s play.  It was all meaningless to me.  I was eternal, they were temporary.  Fragile.”  He shuddered.  “Fluttershy taught me better.  Each life, even the tiniest bunny, has… meaning.”

Emberglow silently held him close while he shook.

“That’s why I did it at first.  I wanted to turn them loose.  Let them find their own path.  But Fluttershy never would have…” He cut off with a hitched sob.  “So I led them.  But I knew them.  It was the only way I could justify letting them die for me.  But now…”

He looked up into her eyes, and she looked into a thousand years of agony. He let out a single dry cough.  “What in Tartarus is wrong with me, Emberglow?”

Emberglow squeezed him, and lifted a hoof to pat his head.  “You know you shouldn’t be having this conversation with me, right?  Where’s Terminus?”

Heartwing flinched, and said nothing.

Emberglow sighed as she released the hug, and stood up.  “War was coming regardless of your choices, Heartwing.  The shield would have come down no matter what.  And you and I both know the Diarchy would have eaten the Empire alive.”

She reached out and lifted Heartwing’s chin out of his hooves.  She barely knew what she was saying, but it felt right.  Almost as if all he needed was a little dose of honesty. 

“Ponies are going to die.  And you’ll mourn them, like you always do.  And we’ll worry about you.  Like we always do.  Your duties have changed, though.  So you can’t do this on your own any longer.  You have to lean on us.  All of us.  One of us in particular.”  She let go of his chin and grabbed his hoof.  “C’mon.  I can pack later.  We’re going to see Terminus.”

“You play dirty.”

“Well, you knew I would before you came here,” Emberglow muttered, tugging at his hoof.  “Come, or I’ll go get him and drag him here and you’ll be in even more trouble.”

“Emberglow?” He let her pull him to his hooves.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

  She laughed.  “It’s what you came here for.  Besides, you gave me some good ideas for packing, so I owe you.”

Emberglow and Heartwing found Terminus in their shared room, in the process of disassembling and cleaning his rifle.  He looked up as they entered.

“Everything okay?”  He inhaled, and his eyebrows narrowed.  “Are you drunk? We’re leaving this evening.” Terminus’ tone was patiently disapproving.

“Not quite,” Emberglow said, meeting Terminus’ eye.  “Your coltfriend has been very helpful, and he very much needs a cuddle.”  She spun Heartwing so they were eye to eye.  “And he needs to share his worries with you.”

“You play dirty,” Heartwing repeated.  Emberglow shrugged and smiled.

“Are you really that upset if it’s going to get you snuggled?” Emberglow asked rhetorically.  Heartwing laughed, blinked, and then darted forward to give her a quick nuzzle.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  Be honest with Terminus, okay?”


*   *   *   *   *


In the end, Emberglow finally was able to pick two dresses, even though she knew it was unlikely that they’d have time for her to see Rarity wearing them.  The first was a daring black cocktail dress, while the second was a more conservative red number.  Emberglow was sure Rarity would be gorgeous in both.

She even managed to open her eyes and breathe long enough to go through the drawer.

Once Rarity’s bags were packed, Emberglow picked up both her set and Rarity’s, before heading off to the infirmary.  If the doctor would allow it, Heartwing wanted to board the train this evening, just after the opening ceremonies of the Crystal Fair.  The Imperial forces who would be joining them were already loading their gear into the storage cars.

The hallways were a beehive.  Soldiers, guards, couriers and servants all bustled about.  Her guards, a pair of stallions today named Hoarfrost and Glass Harp, had to move ahead of her to part the crowd like the prow of a sailing ship cutting through water.

Doctor Heartthrob was already waiting when Emberglow reached the infirmary, complete with an impatient looking Rarity sitting on her bed.

“Good, you’re here.  The doctor says he can’t find anything wrong, so I’m free to go with you.”

“Not quite, Lady Rarity,” Heartthrob said, sounding cautious.  “There is no change in your condition, for better or worse, and it seems harmless now, but we still have no answers.  I’m going to need to give your marefriend some instructions for what measurements and tests I’d like her to keep taking, and what to do if anything changes.  Unless you’ll agree to stay behind.”

“Absolutely not,” Rarity said, stomping a hoof for emphasis.  “I will not be locked away in a hospital while those I love go off to danger.”

Emberglow’s heart fluttered.

“I thought not.”  The doctor sounded resigned, but he smiled.  “I’ve written out the instructions here.” He gave Emberglow a small notebook, and she flipped through it, skimming the instructions.

“Looks simple enough.”

“And you, Lady Rarity, will follow your doctor’s instructions.”  Heartthrob managed to sound stern; a strange tone from his unusually young and pretty face.  “Understood?”

“Y-yes, sir.” Rarity shrank back a little, a bit of her fire sputtering in the face of his determination and authority. 

“Don’t worry, doctor, I’ll send you regular reports,” Emberglow said. 

“I’m sure you will.”

He left them alone, and Rarity eyed him as he walked away.  “When did he become frightening, darling?”

Emberglow giggled.  “The moment he became worried about you.  It’s how us doctors get when we’re afraid a patient is going to endanger themselves.”

“Even you?”

Rarity asked the question with a teasing lilt, but it sent a shiver down Emberglow’s spine.

“I think… I think I’d be a terror if you put yourself in danger, Rarity.” 

A chill fell over the room, and for a moment Emberglow found herself lost in Rarity’s eyes.  Neither pony seemed to know what to say.

“S-so.”  Rarity finally broke the silence.  “Are there any other preparations we need to make before we head to the station?”

“No preparations, no.  But I did want to say goodbye to Turquoise.”

“Oh.  I suppose I could meet you there, then.”

“Come with me,” Emberglow said suddenly.  “I mean, if you want to.”

“I… darling, did you forget what happened the last time I ran into your old friend?”  Rarity shuddered.  “I doubt she’s keen to see me again.”

Emberglow had forgotten, for a moment.  But it didn’t matter. “I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.  But I don’t want to hide you from her, either.”  That didn’t make as much sense out loud as it had in her head.  “I don’t know if I can ever rebuild a connection with my old friends.  Like Turquoise.  But I want to try.  I told her I’d visit more.  But I’m not going to pretend like you’re not the most important thing that has ever happened to me.”

Emberglow needed her to understand.  Even if Rarity didn’t come with her, she needed it to make sense.

“I’ll come with you,” Rarity said, and Emberglow felt a flush of relief.

“Don’t feel nervous about leaving, if you have to,” Emberglow said.  “I understand if things get awkward.”

“Awkward?  Darling, I’m sure it will be a disaster.  But I’ll be on my best behavior.”


*   *   *   *   *


The guards did their usual search, but to Emberglow, it seemed like she passed through more easily.  The aggressive diamond dog was still there, but he seemed either too bored or too tired to be antagonistic.

Crossguard trailed behind them like a shadow; a quiet presence that somehow filled Emberglow with confidence.  She was a little uncomfortable at the idea of having a bodyguard, but Crossguard did her best to be unobtrusive and supportive at the same time.

Turquoise was right where they’d left her, but Emberglow noticed a difference.  She’d brushed her stringy mane, and she was sitting up a little taller in her wheelchair.  She perked up a little when Emberglow entered, before scowling at Rarity.

“Good afternoon, Turquoise.  How are you feeling?”

Turquoise huffed.  “Why are you here?  Why is that here?”

“I’d like you to try to be civil, Turquoise.  I’m here to say goodbye.  I’m going away for a while.”

“And your handler didn’t trust you enough to come on your own?”

“For your information, you rude mare,” Rarity sneered,  “Emberglow asked me to come.  Despite my misgivings, I agreed.”

“Came to gawk at your hoofwork, then?”  Turquoise shot back.  “Proud of yourself?”

“No,” Rarity said simply.  “I regret the necessity.”

Emberglow was beginning to think this was a huge mistake.  “Turquoise, please.  I want to…”  She didn’t know how to finish that sentence.  What did she want?  For Turquoise to get along with Rarity?  Perhaps, in a perfect world, but she wasn’t that naive. 

“In what twisted, mad nightmare did you conceive of this plan, Emberglow?  Bring the mare that maimed me to chat?  I thought you said you wanted us to be friends, somehow.”

“I do!” Emberglow pleaded.  “But Rarity is a part of my life.  And I want us to be friends, I do.  But I’m not going to hide her away.” 

Turquoise snorted.  “Get out of here, Emberglow.  Or don’t.  It’s not like I can do anything.”

Rarity tapped her hoof on her shoulder, and Emberglow turned to see eyes full of pity.  Emberglow shook her head, turning back to Turquoise.

“I’m not giving up on you, Turquoise,” Emberglow said.  “And you shouldn’t either.  I checked in with the nurse Doctor Heartthrob assigned to your care.  He says you’re not doing your physical therapy.”

“I don’t know how—”

“I’m leaving, like I said,” Emberglow said.  “But I will be back.  I promise you, Turquoise.  And I’m not giving up on our friendship.  Or on you.”

“Emberglow—”

“I made a promise in front of Saint Applejack, Turquoise.  That if you ever started acting like a mule again, I’d say something.”

“Your promises—”

“I have kept every promise, every oath I made honestly, Turquoise!”  Emberglow was shouting, but she didn’t care.  She stomped a hoof.  “Every vow I made where I wasn’t lied to, Turquoise.  ”  Emberglow turned to leave, and Rarity and Crossguard followed behind her.  “I’ll be back.  And you’d better be doing your therapy.”

“Even as a heretic, you’re still a healer, eh?” Turquoise muttered.  “So where are you going off to?”

Emberglow paused at the door, hesitating.  “I—”

“Can’t say?  Don’t want the enemy to know your plans?”  Turquoise snorted.  “As if I could send any reports from here.  But I understand.”  She waited, like her words were perched on the precipice of a cliff, waiting to tumble over.  “Emberglow?  Wherever you’re going… be careful, okay?”

She hadn’t expected that.  Emberglow blinked, and sniffed a little.  “Th-thank you, Turquoise.”

“Can’t keep your promise if you get yourself killed,” Turquoise whispered, then gave a rueful laugh.  “I’d say, go with the Saints, but maybe you already are.”

Maybe it was all Emberglow was going to get.  But for now, it would be enough.


*   *   *   *   *


The buzz of excitement and activity that flooded the train station washed over Emberglow, but she didn’t hear it.  She felt the weight of what was about to happen.  Heartwing’s worries echoed in her ears; his guilt and mourning for the path he was going to lead these creatures down pressed on her own mind and conscience every time she looked at a fresh soldier’s face, or into the eager eyes of the Empire’s citizens.

“They have no idea,” she whispered.

“What was that, darling?” Rarity chimed in from beside her.  Emberglow shook her head.

“Nothing.  Let’s find the others.”

It was easier said than done.  The underground train platform was crowded, with creatures scurrying about loading freight onto the cars.  It was a sort of orderly chaos that Emberglow had come to expect from Heartwing.  Emberglow craned her head above the squads of excited soldiers and porters hauling supplies, peering about for familiar faces.

The platform was built into a natural cavern, with electric lights bolted to the stony ceiling high above.  It was warmer than outdoors, but not quite as comfortable as the castle itself.  Emberglow could see to the end of the tunnel, off in the distance, where cold wind blew flurries of snow about.  She wondered if the tracks would be clear enough to safely travel over.

Above the platform was an iron balcony, with stairs descending to the concrete floor.  Emberglow saw Princess Flurry and Lightning Bug standing with Heartwing as all three gazed down at the activity below.  The Princess’ horn began to glow.

“My beloved citizens!”  Her amplified voice filled the entire cavern, and all of the assembled creatures stilled.  “Your attention please!  As we speak, my dear mother, your Empress, is about to open the Crystal Fair.  My faithful student, Lightning Bug, will be casting a mirror spell, allowing you all to see and hear the commencement ceremony.  It’s going to be an event none of us want to miss.”

There was a wave of applause and stomping hooves.  Princess Flurry smiled at the crowd of soldiers indulgently, while Lightning Bug lit her horn, firing a beam of magical force into the air above them.  It carved a circle of crackling energy into the sky, and the space within it became opaque.  Everypony stared as the pink circle resolved into an image of the plaza up above them, right underneath the palace itself.

Emberglow could see Empress Cadence sitting on a padded throne, set on a pedestal near the center of the plaza.  At her hooves was a small yet conspicuous wrapped bundle.  Surrounding the platform were a dozen stern looking guards, representing every race in the Empire.  Their hard gazes watched the crowd.  Emberglow imagined she knew what they were thinking; the Empress had been attacked once, and they were not going to let it happen again.

Next to her was True Tale, looking nervous and excited all at once.  Emberglow’s heart ached for Lofty.  That explanation couldn’t have been an easy one to give. 

“Citizens of the Empire!” The Empress’ horn glowed as she cast the same spell as her daughter.  Through the scrying window, her voice was clear, but came with a strange echo.  “Thank you so much for attending our festival today.  It has been nearly eight hundred years since we last held a Crystal Fair.  I’m sure many of you are confused and worried about current events.  I’m hoping today to alleviate some of those fears.”

Her voice was still thin and reedy from years of disuse, but her movements were strong and confident.  She reached down and lifted the package that was sitting at her hooves.  “My dear friends, this is the Crystal Heart.  Many of you know that for centuries, this sacred artifact powered the shield that kept us locked away from the world.  It kept us safe, yes.  But it also kept us prisoner.

“Today, I’d like to show you all what the Crystal Heart was truly made for, not what we repurposed it to do out of unfortunate necessity.”

Her horn blazed brighter, and the Crystal Heart lifted slowly into the air, rotating gently. It was just like Emberglow remembered from Empress Cadance’s throne room.  But here, in the light of day rather than a dark room, it looked alive.  The blue facets glinted and glimmered in the sun, sparkling in incandescent radiance.  There was something effervescent and joyful about the sight, and Emberglow wasn’t the only one who felt it. She could hear the buzzing of awe and delight from the crowd she couldn’t see, but was sure had gathered for the Empress’ speech.

“For the last eleven hundred years, you have entrusted me with your lives.  With your happiness, with your safety, and the safety of your ancestors.  I would hope that I have done my duty as well as I could during that time.  I have not been perfect.  But I can say I have done my best.

“Today I am asking you to trust me as we take our first hoofsteps back into a frightening but beautiful world.  It is a world filled with wonder and magic.  It is a world where we are once again in close contact with our friends across the ocean.  It is a world where the Empire is graced with the presence of griffons and dragons.

“To celebrate our return to this world, we are holding this Crystal Fair.  In the coming days there will be hurt and pain.  Some of your loved ones may fall in battle.”  Cadance’s voice hitched.  “We will suffer loss and tragedy.  Such is unavoidable in war.

“But if we can spread the love and light we have throughout all of Equestria, to all the ponies suffering there, it will be worth the cost. 

“So to open these festivities, I ask you to look to the Heart, and remember.  Remember your first kiss.  Remember the time you first saw your child’s eyes open.  Remember how your father tucked you into bed, and remember the way your mother chased away your nightmares with a night-light and a plushie to cuddle.”

“Look to the Heart, and remember love.”

Emberglow couldn’t help herself.  Even though she knew the Empress was really speaking to those up above, outside in the plaza, she could feel the weight of the ancient pony’s words even here.  The images she evoked appeared in her mind.

Lofty, offering friendship and rubbing alcohol.

Heartwing’s questions, calm and gentle and probing.

Topaz’s relentless cheer in her dreams.

Terminus standing next to her, side by side, on a cloud as they shared their pain.

And Rarity.

It was Emberglow’s memory of Rarity, of their first frenzied kiss on board Pearl Shimmer, which floated through Emberglow’s mind when the Heart erupted with prismatic light.  Even this far below, in the station, ponies flinched as the ground rumbled and the hum of energy penetrated through earth, through architecture, and through the assembled soldiers and staff.

The air grew warmer.  The biting chill in the air, muffled by layers of stone and structure, disappeared in a flash.

Shouts of joy and awe filled the cave.  And even through the strange echo from Lightning Bug’s scrying spell, it was obvious the ponies in the plaza were doing the same.  Emberglow could see, through the glow of Flurry Heart’s magic, the streets and buildings of the Empire outside.  They were now clear of snow. 

Cheers erupted through the crowd as the Empire’s citizens began to shed their winter clothing.  Hats and coats were tossed skywards in a sort of frenzy, while the soldiers around Emberglow cheered along.  The air was thick with celebration and noise.

But Emberglow’s gaze found one pony who wasn’t smiling.

He was an older crystal pony, with wrinkles spreading out from his gray face.  His lips were pursed as the young soldier next to him, a stallion, barely old enough to be in uniform, cheered and cavorted wildly.

Emberglow’s eye locked onto his, and there was a shared moment of understanding.  In those old eyes, Emberglow could see a pony who knew what was coming.  Dread comprehension; a terrible sort of fear and resignation bled out of the old stallion.  Ponies in his family all around him were celebrating.

But he knew.  For whatever reason, this old stallion knew what war was.  Emberglow could see it in his eyes. 

It’s your fault, you know.  Because of you, so many of these ponies are going to die.

Emberglow glanced at Rarity standing right next to her.  Rarity’s attention rested squarely on Princess Flurry and the scrying spell.  She was practically dancing, her hooves tapping merrily as she reveled alongside everypony else. 

Emberglow looked back at the stallion, and there was something new there.  Hate.  His eyes were alight with a helpless sort of rage, the screaming of a pony trapped in circumstances that they couldn’t escape.

Emberglow empathized, even as she felt the heavy chill of his anger wash over her. 

Why wouldn’t he hate you?  When his grandchild dies, who is he going to blame?

And there was nothing she could do about it.

All around the station, ponies cheered the return of warm weather to the empire.  And through it all, there were two islands of calm dread, voids at the center of the hurricane of celebration around them. 

Emberglow felt a hoof on her back, and turned to see Heartwing, his own eyes misted with tears.

Perhaps there were three islands of calm dread.

She swallowed and nodded.  He nodded back, and they embraced.

“We’ll bring back as many as we can,” she whispered to him, and felt him shaking.  “I swear it.”


*   *   *   *   *


For Rarity’s sake, Emberglow tried to join in the spirit of celebration that surrounded them, but she was sure Rarity realized something was up.  Rarity kept checking on her, asking if she was okay, as they boarded the train.

The Elements, it seemed, would have their own pair of private cars, shared with Flurry Heart, Lightning Bug, and Rarity and Emberglow’s personal guard. 

This level of luxury now sat poorly with Emberglow.  There were velvet-lined couches, done up in the colors of Flurry Heart’s mane and tail.  The wood-paneled walls were lined with enchanted lights that bathed the car in a soft glow.  There was even a small bar, with an attendant ready to serve drinks or snacks to the royal pony and her guests. 

Emberglow half expected crystal chandeliers or some other such extravagance.

Rarity, of course, seemed right at home.

“This is quite the car, Princess,” Rarity said, gushing over the decor even as Emberglow squirmed uncomfortably on the plush couches.  “Though it seems odd that there would be private cars on a military train.”

Flurry Heart snorted, and Heartwing hooted with laughter.  Rarity cocked her head to the side, confused.

“Yes, Rarity.  It is very odd,” Flurry Heart said sardonically.  “Especially if somepony is insistent.  ‘You deserve it, Princess.  With all the hard work you’re doing.  It’s only your due’.  And then somepony goes behind your back and arranges things so that your own civilian private train car is casually stapled onto a military train.”

“I don’t suppose ‘somepony’ in this case had ulterior motives?” Rarity smirked, eyeing the way Heartwing relaxed on his own couch, closely held within Terminus’ hooves and wings.

“Somepony might have been tired of ship brigs and palace cells,” Heartwing noted.  “Even the few weeks they got in a decent room might not have been enough.  Perks of leadership, and all that.”

“You are a scoundrel,” the Princess chuckled.  “And you always will be.”

But there was no heat in her voice as she said it.  Emberglow marveled at the change.  As Heartwing and Flurry bantered back and forth, there was little antagonism, barely a hint of the bitterness between them from before.

Emberglow wondered how much had changed during all of the strategy meetings they’d shared, especially those that had taken place while she’d been sleeping off the poison.

There was a distant rumble as the train engine began to steam.  A few moments later, the cars lurched, dragging forwards.  Each of the ponies swayed from the acceleration, and Rarity leaned into Emberglow a little.

“Whoops,” she said, unrepentantly, and Emberglow laughed, leaning over to kiss her on the head.

This sort of moment will be very rare, soon.

Gadget’s voice in her head wasn’t a condemnation, this time.  Oddly enough, it sounded sad.  Emberglow agreed with the sentiment, and pulled Rarity closer, holding on like she never wanted to let go.

She didn’t.

“Is everything all right, darling?”

Emberglow nodded.  “Fine.”  Rarity pursed her lips. “Really.  I’m just worried about what’s coming.”

“Well, if holding me close is a balm for those worries, hold as much as you like.”

Emberglow looked around the car.  The other couples were doing the same; worry and apprehension were bubbling just under the surface of the excitement that surrounded them.  Heartwing and Terminus were sitting next to each other on the couch, cuddling, and Topaz was asleep, her head on Lofty’s lap, while he gently stroked her mane, a look of mild concern on his face.

But there was something hypnotic about the train; the rhythmic clacking of the wheels barrelling down the tracks, the gentle sway of the car, and the soft voices of her friends.  Emberglow found herself drifting off, wrapping herself around her marefriend.

Time passed, and Emberglow floated on the knife’s edge of sleep.  They clattered through a dark, cavernous tunnel, the windows of the car revealing nothing more than the light of the engine up ahead.

Suddenly the light brightened outside, though it was still mostly dark.  Emberglow yawned and gently slid Rarity onto the couch, before moving to the window.

They were in the open.  Behind them, a sharp row of knife-like peaks, snow twinkling in the moonlight, jutted into the sky.  To their left and right were endless frozen foothills.  And ahead?

Equestria.

Princess Flurry moved up to the window alongside her, looking out at the rolling hills of white flowing past them as the train rumbled through the night.

“I’m… invading my old family home,” the Princess said softly.  “I’m bringing war and violence to the place Auntie Twilight fought so hard to protect.”

Emberglow looked up at the tall pony.  Her eyes were distant and unfocused, probably fixed on some far-off point in the landscape.

“Somehow I expected this moment to be… larger.”

“You mean it’d have something like speeches?  Parades?  Grand announcements?”  Heartwing’s voice came from the other side of the Princess.  Emberglow leaned forward to look at him.  He looked just as distant.

“Of course you would ruin the gravitas of all of this,” Flurry sighed.

“Tell me what you think the moment needs, Princess.  And I will provide.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snorted.

“Perhaps.”  Heartwing’s smile was small.  “Or maybe not.  How about a song?”

Flurry Heart lifted herself up indignantly, her mouth open to protest, perhaps even to order him to silence.  But when Heartwing started to sing, his normally jovial voice was different than usual.  It quivered with emotion as he sung the words to a song Emberglow had never heard before.

“ Equestria, the land I love
A land of harmony
Our flag does wave from high above
For ponykind to see.”

Flurry shrank down, eyes widening and suddenly wet with tears.  Emberglow saw her swallow, before opening her own mouth and joining him for another verse.

“Equestria, a land of friends
Where ponykind do roam
They say true friendship never ends
Equestria, my home.”

There was an odd sort of harmony to their voices; Heartwing’s scratchy, typically puckish voice formed a strangely beautiful counterpoint to Flurry Heart’s smooth, gorgeous tones.  The song was short, but Emberglow found herself wishing they would sing it again. 

“What was that?”

Terminus had come up behind her while they were singing.

“A very old song,” Flurry said, then sniffed.  “I didn’t even know you knew it, Heartwing.”

“One of the first things I did when I started my rebellion was to find as many caches of banned or dangerous literature, music, and art as I could.  One of them had some of Coloratura’s albums.  Including a live recording of when she sang the anthem with the Cutie Mark Crusaders.”

“I’d… I’d like to hear that.”  Flurry’s voice was choked with emotion.

“It’s yours,” Heartwing nodded.  “As soon as all of this has calmed down, I’ll have Cobalt start arranging to transport as much recovered art as I have up to the Empire.  It’ll be safer with you, anyways.”

“Thank you,” Flurry breathed.  To Emberglow, at least, she sounded sincere.

A moment of silence settled in the car.  To Emberglow, it felt heavy.

Home.  She was going home.  Only as an invader, this time.  A heretic, an outcast, a criminal.

She felt a little sick.

“Emberglow?”

Terminus’ voice echoed softly behind her.  She turned to look.

“It’s time to suit up.  We’re in enemy territory now, we should be ready for anything.”

She glanced back at the rest of the car.  Lofty was already in his gambeson, putting on his armor.  Topaz was gently waking Rarity. She now wore some heavy padding herself: a sort of coat with hard plates of armor sewn in.  A second set was sitting on the couch next to Rarity.

It made Emberglow feel good to know they had something to keep the non-combatants safer.

She made her way to the back of the car, where there was a small privacy curtain and a crate containing her armor.  It had been a while since she’d worn it.  Wordlessly she changed, listening to the sounds of ponies moving about on the other side of the curtain.  She could make out muffled voices, but conversation was thin; everypony felt the tension of impending battle.

Just as she was finishing buckling her gauntlet on and parting the curtain, Emberglow heard the door of the car open.  A crystal empire soldier, a changeling, rushed inside, kneeling on one hoof to the Princess.

“Highness.  Scout report.  We may have been spotted.”

“Tartarus,” the princess swore, her brow furrowing. “Did they know we were coming? Or was it coincidence?”

“I don’t know, but—"

The rest of the scout’s words were lost.  A blinding flash of light cut across the night sky, and the train rocked, lurching sideways so hard that Emberglow was thrown against the far wall.

“Rarity!” She screamed, spreading her wings to try and gain some sort of bearing in the chaos.  Furniture flew everywhere, lights flickered, screams and thuds echoed around the car as everything twisted, jerking sideways.

And then the enchanted lights shut off, bathing them all in darkness.
> Chapter 59
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 59


Emergency telegram, sent from Lady Xyris Petal, Knight Adamant, to Lady Orange Rhapsody.

UNSCHEDULED TRAIN SPOTTED BY SUPPLY SHIP EN ROUTE TO GRIFFON FRONT STOP TRAIN IS MOVING AT HIGH SPEEDS AT NIGHT STOP NOT DIARCHY IN ORIGIN STOP INFORM ALL DIARCHY TRAINS IN THE REGION AHEAD OF THE SUSPICIOUS TRAINS ROUTE WILL BE DESTROYED STOP SEND REINFORCEMENTS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE LIKELY ENEMY ATTACK STOP

North of New Canterlot City, 1113 AF

There was no light, only sound.  Screeching, twisting iron, crashing furniture, cries of pain.  Emberglow’s head swam when she slammed against the wall, and for a few seconds she lost track of everything.  There was a crash of shattering glass, and she could feel the wind and cold air on her fur and wings.

Instinctively Emberglow spread her wings, catching herself in the air before she could plummet to the ground.  Confused, her ears ached with the tumultuous noise that filled the air.  Finally Emberglow’s mind caught up with the situation.

The train had derailed.  And she’d been thrown free.  Train cars lay scattered along the track like foal’s toys, each one jackknifing in a zig-zag across the hard ground behind them.  The engine itself was upside down, and the car she’d been in was on its side.

“Rarity!” she cried, angling her wings in a frantic dive towards the car. 

That was when the cannon fire began.

The sound came from above; Emberglow jerked her gaze up. An airship hung low in the skies.

It wasn’t a sleek, armored warship, but rather a fat barge, probably a supply ship of some sort.  But it floated perpendicular to the train tracks; showing its broadside to the train.  There were three gun emplacements on the side, and as Emberglow watched, all three of them fired, the bright flashes of exploding gunpowder leaving star-shaped retinal echoes in her vision.

One of the shells shot right past her, close enough that Emberglow could feel the rush of displaced air.  It hit the dirt to the right of the train, spraying up smoke and chunks of broken earth.  A second hit the car behind theirs, exploding in a horrible flash punctuated by screams.  The third vanished in a pop of yellow light.

“Emberglow!”  The princess’ voice cut through the chaos, and Emberglow locked onto it.  It wasn’t hard; the princess’ horn blazed with a yellow corona as she projected a concave shield above her.  She hovered over the train cars, trying to move the shield to intercept the iron death raining down on them from the ship above.

Emberglow flew up beside her, her head still ringing from being tossed from the train.  “Majesty? What—”

“Find the Elements, Emberglow.  They’re probably still inside.  I’ll try to keep the cannon fire off us.”

Right.  “Rarity!” she gasped again, dashing down to land on the side of the car, which now faced upwards towards the night sky.

The train car was dented and bent, its entire front section crumpled in and twisted sideways.  She poked her head through one of the broken windows, noting the blood dripping off the jagged shards of glass that she barely avoided.

Her blood, most likely.

“Rarity?  Anypony?” she desperately called out into the darkness.

Suddenly the car lit up with a golden glow, the light poking through the shattered debris that littered the inside of the car. Heartwing groaned from inside.  “Here, Emberglow.  What happened?”

“Don’t know.  Can you get yourself out?”

“It will take a moment.  Terminus and Topaz are with me.  We’re fine, but I’ve got…”

He trailed off with a grunt, and the debris Emberglow could see shifted enough to make her heart stop for a second.  “I can’t shift it quickly.”

“Be careful!” she shouted back.  “What about Rarity?  And Lofty?”

Emberglow listened carefully for a response, but there was only a slight groan of pain.  It sounded like Lofty.

Her heart pounded harder, and she leapt through the window before starting to move among the twisted metal, broken furniture, and snapped paneling, looking for a sign.  Anything.  Behind her, she could hear Heartwing continuing to slowly shift the debris as he tried to free himself and the ponies with him.

“It’s too dark, I can’t see!” she cried out desperately.

“Are you…” Heartwing grunted, “…a Knight, or what?”

“Oh.”  Emberglow nearly swore in embarrassment.  She lifted her gauntlet and cast a light spell, a floating red orb that rose up to the top of the train car.  It cast a thousand jagged shadows over the mound of luggage and wreckage.

Outside, she heard the sound of cannonfire again.  Princess Flurry was shouting something, and Emberglow felt a pulse of fear for the Princess. She shoved it aside.  She had orders.

“Can you see them?” Heartwing called.  Emberglow shook her head desperately, before realizing he couldn’t see her, either.

“No!” she cried back, her voice high and thin with desperation.  Rarity was underneath this.  Rarity was in here somewhere.  She could be hurt.  She could be bleeding.  She could be crushed, unable to move, unable to breathe.  She could be dead.  “I don’t even know how to…”

“Damnit, Emberglow, you are a Knight!  Stow your panic, that’s an order!”

There was something about his authoritative voice that gave Emberglow pause.  It was like a triage situation.  Count to ten, and let out all her worries.  Focus only on the task at hand.

One.  He was right.  She was a Knight. Two.  Three.  Four.  She had better things to do with her time than panic, even though this was the first time Rarity had been in danger since they’d gotten together.  Five.  Six.  Seven.  She forced her frantic mind to run through every spell she could remember, every lesson that might have been useful.  Eight.  Nine.  Wait!  What about…

Ten.

Emberglow’s hoof wasn’t even shaking as she lifted it high, white glow trailing as she cast a spell.

“You’ve gone quiet, Knight.  Everything okay?”

“Tracking spell, sir.  I didn’t think of it at first, because I thought I lacked an empathic link.” There were spells that allowed a Knight to locate another pony, provided they had an object that the target held a strong emotional connection with.

“Forgot yourself?”  Even tinged with the effort of his slow, laborious work, Heartwing still sounded amused.

“Yes, sir,” Emberglow said, carefully finishing the last of the less practiced runes before the spell took effect.  She focused her mind on Rarity, on her scent, on the feel of her fur against Emberglow’s, the way they both seemed to melt together when they kissed.  She thought of Rarity’s voice, soft and gentle at times, hard and strong at others, even her occasional whining and complaining.  The spell seemed to snap into place.

It should have been simply an instinctive sort of sense; a mental line between herself and the target.  That’s how the pony who had taught it to her, a Radiant guest teacher during her time at Old Canterlot, had explained it.  The teacher had been going over search and rescue spells, such as those for smoke inhalation, night vision, and of course, tracking missing ponies.

But the spell was nothing like the instructor had led her to imagine.  Sure, Emberglow felt the instinctive ‘line’, pulling her towards the debris.  But her eye lit up with blue light; a dynamic, moving, living, breathing sort of lighting, a tether that tied her irrevocably to the pony that held her heart.  The blue light pulsed with a heartbeat of its own, fast and frightened but alive. 

It took Emberglow a stunned moment to realize it wasn’t her good eye she was seeing the light from; it was her blind eye.  Ruthlessly she shoved the thought aside for later.

“Rarity?” Emberglow called, and the light leapt, like a startled kitten.  “Rarity, can you hear me!”  The light’s strobing quickened. 

Emberglow stumbled and climbed over the debris, towards where the strange blue heartbeat led.  There was a pile of luggage, tumbled down atop of a broken table.  Emberglow shoved the bags aside, tossing them against the broken wall with a clatter, before reaching down to see if she could see through the numerous cracks in the wood of the table.

White fur.  Purple mane.  Breathing.

Emberglow almost couldn’t stop herself from heaving the table off of the mare; but that could have been bad.  She looked up to the crack, one eye full of the blue pulse of magic, the other barely able to make out detail in the red glow from above.  Both told her the same thing; Rarity was alive, conscious, and stuck.

“Rarity!  Can you hear me?  Are you okay?”

“Hard to… breathe,” came the weak reply. 

“Stay calm, Rarity,” Emberglow was barely able to keep her own advice as she shoved loose pieces of rubble away from the table.  “Are you in pain?  Can you tell me where it hurts?”

“Sore all over,” Rarity whispered her response.  “Something on my chest.”

It wasn’t proper protocol.  Realistically Emberglow should have waited for somepony else, waited for some way to brace the wreckage so it didn’t slip and cause further injury.  But she wasn’t willing to wait.

She braced her hind hooves as firmly as she could on the uneven floor, before heaving the table upwards.  She heard Rarity’s gasp as she filled her lungs.

The blue light grew stronger.  Emberglow rushed to her side, her gauntlet glowing, its white light in one eye, the spell’s blue in the other.

Rarity was breathing deeply.  Her eyes were open.  The blue tether, brought to life by Emberglow’s tracking spell, faded as she found her target.

“Are you…”

“I’m fine, darling,” Rarity insisted, but Emberglow wasn’t satisfied.  She cast a diagnosis spell.

“M-minor bruising, sprained rear leg, one cracked rib,” Emberglow spoke aloud.  She started casting, but Rarity held out her hoof and stopped her.

“Save your motes, darling.  None of those are life threatening, and we have to find the others.”

“Heartwing’s got Terminus and Topaz, we just need to find Lofty.”

“He should be close, I heard him cry out right after everything started falling.”

There was no reason the same spell wouldn’t work again.  And just like before, Emberglow already had an empathic link to the target.  Lofty was one of her oldest friends, after all.  She cast it a second time, this time thinking of Lofty; his laugh, the way he smiled at True, the dopey look he got in his eyes whenever he looked at Topaz. 

Like before, the spell snapped into place, and her blind eye filled with light.  This time it was a soft brown glow, the same color as Lofty’s eyes.  It wasn’t as bright as the tether to Rarity had been, but it was still strong, pulsing with a heartbeat just like Rarity’s had been. 

“He’s fine!” Emberglow called out.  “He’s over…” she pointed with her hoof, and Rarity stumbled up next to her.

The tether of light drew them to to a couch, overturned, with a broken curtain rod and its curtain draped over it.  Emberglow rushed over, with Rarity limping behind.

“Can you hold everything else steady while I look inside?” Emberglow asked.

Rarity smirked.  “Emberglow, dear, of course I can.  I’ve been doing all this magical dexterity practice for a reason, you know.  Just tell me what you need.”

“Hold all the debris in place, except for what I’m moving.”  Emberglow approached the overturned couch, and the entire pile lit up with a blue glow.  She reached out and touched the curtain, and the glow faded.  She pulled the curtain aside, and stuck her head in the small space where the armrest and the back of the couch leaned on the floor.

“Lofty?  Are you awake?”

Her only response was a groan.

“Rarity?  Can you feel if anything else is leaning up against the couch?”

“No, Emberglow.”

“Lift it very slowly, please.”

The couch raised up about a foot.  Emberglow got down on her belly, wriggling forwards until she could see Lofty’s prone figure in the darkness.

“Can you put the couch somewhere else?” she called out. 

“There’s no space for it, Emberglow,” Rarity sounded tense.  “But I can hold it for a bit.  If you hurry.”

Emberglow didn’t want to move him until it was absolutely necessary.  She glanced at her gauntlet; the battery indicator was on yellow.  Enough for a couple more spells.

She cast a diagnosis spell.  “Coup-countercoup brain trauma, severe concussion, minor skull fracture.  Something tossed him into the floor.  The couch, probably.  He’ll be fine, he just needs—”

The night outside suddenly lit up in a searing flash of light, and a second later a blast of thunder washed away all sound.  Emberglow’s ears rang, and she instinctively shoved her hooves over them.

“…as that?”  Rarity was shouting from somewhere.  It sounded a million miles away.  “Was that lightning?”

Emberglow shook her head.  She couldn’t worry about that right now.  The others would…

Once again, the world was washed out in a flash of white.  This time she was more prepared; she covered her ears as soon as she spotted the flash.  But the train rumbled, and the couch slipped from Rarity’s grasp above her, the cushioned seat pushing her into the floor.

“What’s happening?”

“You’re going to want to hurry, darling,” Rarity called, lifting the couch once again.  “Something is going terribly wrong outside the train.  There’s no clouds, but there’s lightning.”

“Pegasi weather magic,” came Heartwing’s voice from nearby.  “Weaponized weather.  It’s not the first time I’ve seen this.  Emberglow, what’s the hold-up?  We’ve got to get clear of the train!”

“I don’t want to move him!” she called back.  “He’s had a head injury!  It could make things worse!”

“Here!”

Heartwing’s yellow magic aura lit up the space under the couch, and Emberglow saw a battery, glowing with telekinetic force, moving towards her.  She reached out and grabbed it.

“Thanks!  More light would be helpful, too.”

“So needy,” Heartwing snarked, poking his head in the gap, his horn glowing brightly.  Emberglow smiled a brief thanks before casting.

First, an anti-inflammatory spell, to reduce brain swelling.  Second, a bone repair spell, to fix the fracture.  She had to change out batteries between them; these were complex and motically expensive heals.  But it was worth it.  Lofty began stirring as soon as the first spell was finished, while she was still in the middle of slotting in a fresh battery.

“Wha—”

“Stay still.  I’m going to try to move you very slowly, Lofty.  If you feel any pain in your neck or head, I need you to tell me immediately, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and Emberglow smirked.  Very carefully, she took him by the shoulders and began to pull him backwards, out from under the couch. 

Lightning flashed again, and Lofty yelped, covering his ears too late. 

“Damn.  Gonna have to deal with that soon,” Heartwing muttered.  “Emberglow, hop to it!  As soon as everypony inside is clear, I can get us all under a shield and we can figure out what’s going on outside!”

“There was only one airship, when I was out there,” Emberglow said, reaching once again to pull Lofty.  He grunted with discomfort, but when she paused he shook his head.

“…’m fine.  Just sore.  Go.”

She pulled him out from under the couch at last, leaning him against the side of a pile of tumbled cushions.  Rarity gave a sigh of relief as she set the couch down, and Emberglow took a chance to look around the train car, now lit by both Heartwing’s and Rarity’s horns.

Terminus and Topaz were standing next to each other; and Topaz rushed over as soon as Emberglow moved back from Lofty a little.

“Be gentle.  He’s been concussed, but I healed him.  He’ll need to rest, and he’ll be a little dazed for a few hours.”

“My brain tastes like peppermint,” Lofty said helpfully.

It was the same thing he’d said when Mercy Song had healed him of a concussion, all those years ago at the Ivy Seminary.  Emberglow was about to say something, but the lightning did not abate, and the entire train car shook, tossing ponies about and nearly knocking them off their hooves.  Emberglow had to spread her wings for balance.

“We have to get off this train!” Heartwing shouted as they all covered their ears, crying out in pain and dismay.  “Can Lofty be moved?”

“If you do it very carefully,” Emberglow confirmed.  Heartwing gave a curt nod and lit his horn.

“Everypony, quickly!” Heartwing lifted Lofty gently in his magic, and the six ponies made their way to the broken windows.  Rarity cleared away the remaining shards of glass with her own magic so they could crawl outside.  Emberglow and Terminus flew out, helping the others climb out on their own.  Heartwing lifted Lofty behind him.

“I can move myself,” he grumbled, still looking a little dazed.

“No, you can’t,” Emberglow said.  “Not until I’m sure you’re—”

Shots rang out, and everypony ducked.

“Shields!” Heartwing screamed, and two bubbles, yellow and blue, appeared around them.  Emberglow dove to cover Rarity, her wings spread.  She could hear pings of bullets ricocheting off of Heartwing’s shield, and she quickly cast her own personal shield. 

“There!” Heartwing shouted, pointing with a hoof.  A group of Empire soldiers were assembling, their armor glinting in the starlight, huddled behind another overturned train car.  Heartwing dashed towards them, darting around everything in his path.  Emberglow and the others followed.  “Shield on me, Emberglow.  I need to cast!”

Emberglow kept her wings spread, hovering over Rarity as they moved.  She cast her shield spell, the white transparent orb springing to place a mere second before Heartwing’s yellow shield dropped.  His horn stayed lit, and as he cast his throat glowed.

“IMPERIAL FORCES, RALLY TO ME!” he shouted, his voice booming over the cacophony of the battlefield.  They reached the huddled soldiers, and Emberglow saw the looks on the faces of the soldiers by the light of their shields.

Terror.  Confusion.  Shell-shocked daze.

“Who’s in command right now?” Heartwing barked, and a shaky crystal mare with captain bars on his chest armor raised a hoof.  “Name?”

“Captain Fizzberry, sir!” she saluted.

“Fizzberry, gather your fireteams and concentrate your fire at the airship.  But listen for my orders.”

Heartwing pointed a hoof towards a tree-shrouded hill.  “There’s Diarchy forces hiding somewhere in these hills.”

Fizzberry narrowed her eyes.  “General?  How do you…”

“Old Diarchy trick.  They provide an easy to see, convenient target in close range,” Heartwing gestures at the airship, still booming with occasional cannon fire.  “Meanwhile, a hidden nearby force prepares to ambush any fliers or scouts that peek their heads out of cover to deal with it.”

“Sir, but what about the Princess?”

The glowing form of Flurry Heart still lit up the night above them, firing beams of golden force at the airship above, all while she fended off cannonballs. 

“Alicorns… are not something I’ve ever had to contend with in strategy before.  We have to get her down to us before they actually start firing on her.”

Heartwing’s horn glowed and he shouted again.

“Princess!  To me!” he called, and high in the distance Emberglow saw the princess turn and look down to them, just as the hill Heartwing had noted before lit up with the spark of gunpowder.

Emberglow didn’t see the bullets fly, but she did see Flurry flinch, jerking in the air as she was hit.  She began to fall.  Emberglow’s wings were spread before she even thought about it.

“Terminus, Emberglow, catch her!” Heartwing cried desperately.  “Go!”

It was hard to keep up with Terminus, but Emberglow pumped her wings as hard as she could.  It was still a strain; her wings weren’t entirely pushing the air like they once used to.  But at least she could fly. 

Emberglow’s eye locked on the falling form of the princess, and she and Terminus rapidly flew to intercept.  Flashes of gunfire from between the trees on the hill peeled through the skies around her, pinging off her own armor and shield.  She ignored them.

Flurry was alive when they caught up to her in the air.  Terminus and Emberglow flew on either side of her, Emberglow hurriedly grabbing one forehoof while sliding under it.  Terminus did the same with the other side.

“Hang on, Princess,” Emberglow said, hoping Flurry could hear over the rushing sound of the wind.  “We’ve got you.”

With a grunt of effort the two of them flapped hard.  The princess began to slow.

For a moment, Emberglow’s thoughts went to another time.  Another fall.  Another pony. 

So easy to forget the past.  Especially my father.

Emberglow gritted her teeth and flew hard, trying to banish the image of Gearsmith, as well as his daughter’s voice, from her head. 

“Emberglow!  We’re going to crash!” Terminus shouted.  Emberglow didn’t spare the energy to nod.  She’d done this before.

“Pull up in a curve!” she shouted back.  “Running landing!”

Terminus pulled up just in time, and their hooves were already running in the air.

It was just like her rough landing in the Manehatten ruins.  Only this time instead of an earth pony at her back, it was the much larger Princess.

They hit the ground, and Emberglow felt spikes of pain shoot up her legs as they nearly buckled under the impact.  She ran, desperately trying to keep from falling even as she and Terminus did their best to arrest their momentum. 

Terminus collapsed first, and the limp alicorn lurched to the side.  Emberglow stumbled right after, the three of them rolling and tumbling in the dirt.  Emberglow ignored the pain in her legs, gaining to her hooves as she rushed over to her two fallen companions.

Terminus was stirring, rolling as he groaned in pain.  One of his wings was bent.  Princess Flurry was on the ground, breathing, her eyes closed.

“Terminus!  Can you cover me at all?” Emberglow cried as she reached the Princess’ side.  She watched out of the corner of her eye as Terminus struggled to his own hooves.

“I got ya, Emberglow,” he grunted, even as Emberglow felt a bullet ping off her armor.  His gauntlet glowed as he cast a shield over all three of them, before unslinging his rifle  and crouching low.

Emberglow tried to ignore the patter of gunfire raining down on the shield, instead inspecting the Princess.  She cast her own diagnosis spell.

Emberglow’s mind was flooded with information, and she recoiled.  She’d never cast a spell like this on an alicorn before; she imagined nopony ever had.  Her anatomy was nearly identical to most ponies, but the presence of all three thaumic nerve systems overwhelmed Emberglow’s magical senses.  She tried to filter out the noise and focus on the injuries.

Three gunshot wounds.  One through the princess’ right forehoof, one through her wing, the third through her chest.  The first two were nothing; the bullet in her hoof was stuck against bone, but it hadn’t broken it.  The wing wound had gone right through and only taken muscle with it.

The bullet in Flurry’s chest, however, was lodged right into one of her ribs.  It had barely missed her heart and lungs, and she’d require surgery to take it out.

“Princess, can you hear me?” Emberglow asked, quickly writing another spell in the air as she spoke.  The wound in her wing knit quickly.  “How do you feel?”

It was an inane question, but she was mostly trying to gauge the princess’ lucidity, not truly assess her condition.

“I’ve… never been shot before,” Princess Flurry said, not opening her eyes.  “Not… pleasant.”

“No, it isn’t,” Emberglow said.  “Are you in much pain?”

“I’m fine,” the princess lied, and Emberglow laughed.  Another problematic patient.

“Okay then, Princess.  I’ve healed your wing wound, and I’m going to stop the bleeding on the others.  But we’re going to have to do surgery on the other two, and frankly I don’t like the idea of performing surgery on you in these conditions.  Are you okay to walk?  Terminus and I will keep you safe until we get back with Heartwing and the others.”

“Are… are they safe?” Princess Flurry asked, and Emberglow nodded.

“You kept them safe, Highness,” Emberglow said.  “Heartwing is rallying the rest as we speak.  We’ll get you back there, then get these bullets out.”  She paused.  “I’m going to cast a spell to stop the bleeding, but it’s going to hurt like Tartarus until we get back, because the bullets will still be there.”

“I’ll manage,” Flurry groaned, and Emberglow cast the spell.  The wounds over her last two gunshots knitted, and Flurry hissed.  “It’s cold.”

“Healing sometimes feels that way,” Emberglow said.  “Have you never been healed before?”  Making small talk to distract the patient from their pain was an important part of a doctor’s bedside manner.

“Not like this,” Princess Flurry said.  “Can’t say I like it.”

“Nopony does,” Emberglow said.  “Are you good to run?”

“I’ll manage.”  Flurry carefully stood up, spreading her wings.  “Thank you.”

Her horn lit up, and a spray of bullets came their way, bouncing off Emberglow’s shield and armor as she threw herself in front of the Princess.  Flurry ducked down with a yell.

“Horn off, Princess.  I’ll keep you safe,” she said.  With a chagrined look, the princess’s yellow magic dimmed to nothing.

“Time to go.  Hurry,” Terminus took quick aim with his rifle and returned fire.  For a second, the deadly rain coming their direction paused.  “My cover fire won’t do much for long when they realize there’s only one of me.”

“Watch our backs, Terminus.  Princess, on me.”

Emberglow spared a single glance to make sure Princess Flurry was following her through the overturned train cars.  In the darkness, Emberglow could see soldiers helping their friends from train cars, rushing to cover, forming up in small groups.

“Rally under the shield!” Terminus called as they all ran.  Soldiers perked up, looking their way.  A few even piled in behind them, flowing around their princess as they surged towards Rarity’s barrier up ahead.  All around them, soldiers pulled themselves out of the wreckage, salvaging equipment and weapons, before charging to the rally point. 

Terminus kept up his cover fire as they ran, though it was obvious even to Emberglow that he could barely tell what he was firing at.  In the cloud-shrouded night, it was hard to make out anything but the shine of unicorn magic, and the muzzle flashes of incoming leaden death.

Rarity’s shield was a bright beacon in the darkness, and they dashed towards it.  Emberglow’s heart pounded with the effort of galloping, and she could hear Princess Flurry’s pained grunts behind her.

“Just a bit longer, Princess,” she called back.  “Almost there.  Then I can get that bullet out, and you’ll be just fine.”

It was meaningless, a bit of information she already had, but Emberglow knew a little encouragement could go a long way.

“Almost there,” she repeated, as much for herself as for the ponies and other creatures following behind her.  There was only one last sideways train car before they reached the shelter of the shield.  Emberglow felt a bullet ricochet off her own shield.  “Just a little…”

Princess Flurry Heart cried out in agony, and Emberglow’s heart caught in her throat.  She spun around to see the princess doubled over, cradling one of her legs.

“I got her!” Terminus called, before she could even backtrack to help her up.  Princess Flurry moaned in pain as Terminus slipped under one of her wings, helping her to three hooves.  “Just a sprain!”

Emberglow wasn’t sure.  The hoof looked like it had been caught on some of the debris along the ground, and twisted painfully to one side.  She flinched in sympathy, but kept going, rounding the corner and setting her sights up ahead.

The shield was just as strong as ever; Rarity stood in the center of the glistening white dome, proud and firm, her horn glowing blue and her eyes blazing with determination.  It was as large as the shield that had once protected Emberglow and her comrades back in Manehatten, but rather than a group of Knights, this one was being maintained by a single, spectacular unicorn.  If her heart wasn’t already beating hard from exertion, Emberglow imagined it might have been racing from something else, right now.

Heartwing stood right by her side, directing rows of unicorns and changelings to line up, preparing to return fire.  Lofty was off at the shield’s edge, sorting out weapons and armor for the soldiers who were already rallying under the giant dome and trying to organize them into teams.  Emberglow could also see Topaz, hard at work helping a group of medics with the injured.

“This way, princess,” Emberglow directed, starting to move Topaz’s way, but Flurry shook her head in refusal.

“No.  Take me to Heartwing.  Do what you need to do to get the bullet out, but my people need to see me leading.  That’s an order, Marchioness.”

“You can’t…” Emberglow began, before Princess Flurry leaned over and stared at her.  There was a fire in her ancient eyes, a rage that had built over a thousand years.  “Okay.  For now.  But if you need more help than I can give, then I will order you to stand down.  And you’ll obey that order even if I have to knock you out.”

“Who are you to give me orders, little pony?” Princess Flurry scowled, and Emberglow’s ears pinned back at the anger in those eyes.

“Standard procedure for the Discordant,” Terminus noted from the Princess’ side, as he began to help her over to where Heartwing stood.  “Nopony outranks a medic when it comes to treating injuries.  Not even an Empress or a princess.”

“There is no way that’s in your rules,” Princess Flurry snorted, while Emberglow and Terminus walked by her side.

“You know?  I don’t know for sure, but I’d be willing to bet it is,” Terminus said philosophically.  “How many bits would you put on it?”

Princess Flurry stared at him, and huffed, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘insane old madcreature’.

Terminus smiled grimly.  “That’s settled.  Satisfied, Emberglow?”

She nodded.

Heartwing had set up a makeshift table in the center of the shield, right next to Rarity.  On it was a crudely drawn map of the terrain, as well as the wrecked train.  He even had a pair of changelings hard at work updating the tactical map, using small stones to represent groups of soldiers.  Emberglow wondered how he already knew the lay of the battlefield.

The strangest thing was, however, the creature Heartwing was speaking to.  It was a bird.  An owl, to be precise.

“Yes, we’ve found the Princess.  The counterattack can begin momentarily,” Heartwing said.  “I don’t intend to stay here any longer than I have to.  We’re exposed and vulnerable, and we have to push hard to hit Mount Canter before the forces in the city can be brought to bear against us.”

He glanced over at the Princess.  “Thank Celestia you’re safe.  Why aren’t you with the injured?”

“She’s stubborn,” Emberglow cut in before Flurry could answer, which earned her a dirty look.  Rarity, even concentrating on her spell, managed a little laugh.  “I’ll be doing surgery on her wounds, extracting two bullets while you two discuss strategy.”

“Quite,” Princess Flurry said.  “So if I can find a place to lay down so the Marchioness can do her work, I’d be grateful.”

It didn’t take long for a pair of crystal ponies to arrive with a pillow and a bedroll for the princess, and even a field surgery kit, complete with bottles of water and a pair of fresh gauntlet batteries for Emberglow.  Terminus and Emberglow eased the princess onto the rough ground, the bedroll barely providing greater comfort compared to the stone and rubble.

“Go quickly,” Heartwing said impatiently.  “We have to move.  As soon as we can extract our wounded and as much supplies as we can manage, we’re going to push through the enemy forces and rush the mountain.”

“We have no idea how many of them there are!  Or how we’re going to stop that airship from raining cannon fire down on us!” Flurry grunted with pain as she rolled onto her side.  Emberglow grabbed the surgery kit, removing a pair of razor sharp shears and going to work cutting away the Princess’ bloodied clothing around her chest wound.

“I have a good idea,” Heartwing gave a mysterious smirk, motioning to the owl.  “We have friends.”

“You were close to Fluttershy, but not that close,” the princess snorted, and both Terminus and Heartwing flinched at the name.

“This,” Heartwing scowled.  “is not a real owl, but rather a construct of illusion magic and unicorn creativity.  One of my Knights uses constructs like this as scouts and messengers.  She can hear everything we’re saying.”

The owl hooted.

“So what that means is, we have reinforcements.  And they’ll be here soon.”  He turned back to the owl.  “Set up on the ridge just behind the enemy’s ground position.  We’ll handle the airship, I need you and yours to keep the forces hidden in the trees off our flanks.  We’ll rendezvous at the foot of the mountain, where the train tracks split off towards the city.  I will have one of our unicorns send up an orange flare as soon as we’re about to begin our charge.”

The owl hooted one more time, then seemed to twinkle a bit, before vanishing into a puff of starlight and ephemera.  Emberglow barely spared it a glance before returning to her work.

Her spell from just a few moments ago had made her task harder, but if she hadn’t closed the wound the Princess would have lost a lot of blood.  She could see the bullet hole, a red, healing puncture wound that looked like it had been recovering for days now. 

“Terminus?” she asked.  “Could I get a light?  Right over where I’m working, please.  And Princess, are you sure you want to be awake for this?”

“I need to lead my people.  They can’t see me down.  It will be a disaster for morale.” the princess replied, through gritted teeth.  “I will withstand the pain.”

“Very well,” Emberglow said.  Terminus moved up on her right, shining a brilliant white from his gauntlet.  She could see the wound in vivid detail, now.  Carefully she grabbed a bottle of water from the surgery supplies and washed as much blood as she could away from the wound, before grabbing the scalpel.  “I’ll do what I can for the pain without putting you under, princess.  But it’s still going to hurt.”

“Do what you can.  I trust you, Marchioness.”

The soft confidence in the Princess’ tone filled Emberglow with conviction, and when she glanced up Rarity was smiling in her direction.  She nodded, raised her gauntlet, and cast a spell.

“Anesthesia first,” she said out loud, and the Princess nodded, her eyes becoming a little glassy as the spell took hold.  “Then a metal detection spell.  I’ll be able to…”

The spell was supposed to give her a sixth sense, an unconscious feeling of where the bullets were hiding, like invisible strings tied to her gauntlet.  Instead, once again, her bad eye flared with light as soon as the spell took shape, and she could see the bullets embedded in the Princess, glowing with an unnatural orange light.  She let out a gasp of surprise.

“Everything okay?” Terminus sounded worried.

Emberglow shook her head.  “Later.”  She lowered her hoof with the scalpel, slowly cutting along the wound.  The princess twitched, hissing in pain, but it wasn’t the shouts or screams it could have been.  Emberglow pushed aside all distractions, instead focusing tightly on the orange spots in her bad eye.

The glow seemed to pulse, throbbing like some sort of unholy tumor.  Unnatural.  Out of place.  Wrong.  She cut with her scalpel, dexterously parting the flesh until nothing stood between her and the invader currently stuck in one of the Princess’ rib bones.

“Forceps, please,” she dropped the scalpel on a small tray that had come with the surgery kit, and somepony, probably Terminus, pushed the requested tool into her hooves.  She leaned down once again and carefully worked the tips of the forceps around either end of the distorted bullet.  She gave a gentle tug.  Nothing.  The princess moaned in pain.

“This is going to hurt, Princess.  Terminus, give her something to bite down on, please.

“Ready,” the Princess’ voice was muffled by something.  Emberglow didn’t bother to look.  Instead, she yanked hard, and the offending metal popped free of the bone.  The princess let out a scream, trying to jerk upright, but something was holding her down.  Emberglow glanced up.  Terminus was at Princess Flurry’s shoulders, holding each one down with his hooves.

“Thanks,” she muttered, before dropping the bullet into the tray with a metallic clink.  “Now I patch that one up, and we move onto the hoof.”

For the second time that night Emberglow healed Princess Flurry’s chest wound.  With a somewhat clinical sense of relief she watched as the Princess’ breathing became more even.  “Put out your hoof, please.  This one will be easier.”

This surgery was much less dire, less life-threatening.  Emberglow took her time, even as the malignant orange glow hovered in her magical sight. 

Emberglow was impressed with the Princess; while she worked, Flurry Heart continued to speak with Heartwing, discussing strategy and arguing.  Emberglow couldn’t fully focus on their words; she was too busy.  But the Princess was dedicated to her duties even while she was being patched up.

“There,” she said finally, tying a bandage on the hoof.  “Now, let me look at your other wound.”

The other hoof turned out to be a mere sprain, and a single healing spell had the swelling down to nothing.  She smiled at the questioning look the Princess gave her. 

“I’d prefer to keep you out of the action for a bit, in a hospital tent, but that’s not likely, is it?” she said softly to Princess Flurry during a lull in the conversation.  Princess Flurry shook her head.

“All done, medic?” Heartwing asked, and Emberglow nodded.  “Good.  The advance starts soon.  Your orders are to stay near the Princess.  You are, after all, The Heartshield.  Stay by her side no matter where she goes.  And for Celestia’s sake, remind her to keep her own shield up.  This is a war zone!”  He snorted.  “I thought your father would have taught you that much, at least.”

Princess Flurry opened her mouth, muzzle twisted with offense, but hesitated.

“I will keep her safe, sir,” Emberglow saluted.

“Good.  No more frontline fighting for you, Princess.  Not yet.  I’d rather go as long as possible without our enemies seeing your true power.  Keep them guessing and wondering what you can actually accomplish.”

The appeal to her ego apparently mollified the offended Princess, who huffed and stayed silent.

“Heartwing, darling?” Rarity called, her voice strained with effort.  “Don’t forget the shield.”

“Oh, yes!” Heartwing said.  His horn glowed, and the buckler of Flash Magnus floated through the air.  “We retrieved this from our car.  It might come in handy, Heartshield.”

“Right, thank you,” Emberglow said, strapping the buckler on.  Princess Flurry gave it an odd look.

“You lot are full of surprises,” she muttered.  “Last I heard, Spike had that.  As well as the rest of the Pillars’ relics.”

“Mlinzi entrusted it with me,” Emberglow said, and the Princess looked surprised, then nodded.

“I’m sure he did.  And it couldn’t have gone to a more appropriate mare.  I thank you again for saving my life.  And I do hope it won’t be a habit.”

“I hope I won’t have to, highness,” Emberglow said.

“Regardless,” Heartwing cut in.  “During the charge, it will be your responsibility to make sure she is safe.”  Emberglow nodded.  “Don’t you worry about splitting your focus.  Rarity will be close by, directing the unicorns among the Imperial forces.”

It had been a worry in Emberglow’s mind.

Selfish little foal.  You care more about one mare than an entire army?  What about all the other casualties?  What about me?

Emberglow must have reacted visibly to Gadget’s voice in her mind, because she noticed Rarity was watching her with concern.  She shook her head and gave her marefriend a small smile, meant to be reassuring, but Rarity pursed her lips with disapproval.  Perhaps it wasn’t as reassuring as she thought.

Meanwhile, the Princess and Heartwing kept talking.  At least they weren’t arguing any longer.

“Do we have numbers on casualties?”  The Princess tried to keep her voice professional, but Emberglow heard it slip on the last word, breaking with emotion.

“Triage is well underway,” Heartwing said.  “We’ve got seven dead from the train crash, and I know there have been a few killed in the attack that followed.  We’re at least up to a dozen, plus several wounded.”

Heartwing and the Princess both shared a look, and Emberglow saw, perhaps for the first time, a shared understanding.  There was centuries of pain in each of their eyes.

The moment seemed to last forever, but finally the Princess cleared her throat.  “Salvage as many carts as we can.  I will not leave our fallen to those Diarchy curs.  Changelings can assume larger shapes to pull or carry as many supplies as possible.”

“That leaves our offensive power diminished,” Heartwing noted, and Princess Flurry flinched.

“I know.  But there’s no other choice.”

Heartwing nodded in approval.  “Very well.  Terminus, I’ll need you as my voice.  Please ask Commander Anastera to organize her forces to bear supplies.  Marchioness Rarity and I will lead the unicorns in the vanguard.  Imperial guard units will follow close behind, protecting the wounded, the princess, and the supplies, in that order of priority.  We leave in ten minutes, if your patient is ready to travel, Emberglow.”

Terminus saluted and zoomed off to find the changeling commander among the assembling creatures.  Emberglow looked up as the orders spread, zipping up and down the lines of soldiers like an electrical charge.  Soldiers tightened straps on armor, readied weapons, and helped injured companions to their hooves. 

She turned her attention back to Princess Flurry.

“Are you ready, Your Highness?” she asked.

The princess stretched each of her legs, only flinching a bit at the pain of her injuries.  “As much as I will be.  Is it always this messy?  I feel like I barely know what’s happening any longer.”

“The scholars call it ‘the fog of war’, Highness,” Emberglow said softly.  “The chaos and confusion of a battlefield.  Especially a large one.  It’s hard to know what’s happening beyond your own field of view.  In the books, the truly great commanders always seem to be able to manage and see past it.”

Both of them glanced over at Heartwing.  He was a pillar of confidence and assurance in the midst of the chaos around them.

“It’s hard for me to see him this way,” Flurry whispered.  “He’s not the creature I knew.”

“If I may?” Emberglow began hesitantly.  “He hasn’t been that creature for a very long time.”

“Tell me about the Heartwing you know, Emberglow.  While we get ready to charge.”

“He can be a jerk,” Emberglow began, and Flurry let out a surprised laugh.  “But he’s sweet.  He hurts when his ponies hurt.  And he hurts when he has to hurt others.”  She remembered when he approached Brightblade under a flag of truce.  It had seemed like some sort of mad scheme at the time.  Now?  She understood.

He’d been genuinely trying to stop the loss of life.

“I don’t know what he was like before.  He must have been really aggravating.”  She kept talking as she packed up the surgery kit, fitting it into her bags.  Princess Flurry huffed in agreement.  “I get that.  I see hints of it from time to time.  When he teases, when he’s habitually never serious when he really should be.”

“You truly are his friend, aren’t you?” The princess said, and Emberglow looked at her quizzically.  “It’s in your voice when you talk about him.  Genuine affection.”

“I suppose so,” Emberglow said.  “He was the first to show me the truth.  He saved me, in a way.”

“From the Diarchy?”

“Yes.  But mostly from myself,” Emberglow said.  Princess Flurry nodded, looking troubled.  “I don’t expect you to see him like I do.”

“I’m starting to, though,” Princess Flurry said, sounding displeased.  “And I don’t like it.”

The princess fell silent after that, and Emberglow took that as a sign that the conversation was over.  It was fine, though; Emberglow knew that Princess Flurry was at least thinking about what she’d said. 

Emberglow took a moment to glance over at Rarity.  Her love was quite busy, moving up and down a line of unicorns.  Each one wore the uniform of the Crystal Empire’s guard, the purple armor marred by mud and blood.  But they all stood tall as Rarity spoke to them.

“…is going to be one of the hardest things you’ve ever done,” Rarity was saying, and Emberglow admired the firm conviction in her voice.  “You’ve lived your whole lives in peace.  Under the protection of a shield above you.  But there are unicorns in this very country who are hiding who they are.  There are unicorns being killed, their horns stolen barely after they’ve drawn their first breath.  This is the first step.  It’s terrifying.  It’s ugly.  It’s quite dirty and messy.”

Emberglow hoped she meant metaphorically.

“But it has to be done.  And you are the right unicorns for the job.  Princess Flurry and Empress Cadance chose you specifically for your skills, your dedication, and your loyalty.  And I know every single one of you today is going to make them, and me, so very proud of you.  Now, form up around Princess Flurry, and Marchioness Emberglow…” Rarity glanced her way, and Emberglow’s heart beat a little harder at the kind smile Rarity briefly showed her.  “…and we shall prepare to make our marks on history.”

As speeches went, maybe it wasn’t the most practiced or poetic.  But Emberglow felt herself lifted all the same.  Rarity, with her perfect diction and the almost lyrical cadence of her voice, stilled her worries and filled her with confidence.

“Imperial Specialist Platoon ready at your command, Sir Heartwing,” Rarity turned to Heartwing and saluted.  It didn’t have the crisp discipline Emberglow was used to; Rarity’s stance was too relaxed, and she had a cocky smirk.  But she didn’t think Heartwing would care.

“Very good, Marchionesses.”  It indeed didn’t look like Heartwing minded at all.

Terminus flew in and saluted as well.  “Changeling squads are prepared, medics are loading the last of the wounded onto carts.  We can move out as soon as you give the order.”

“Very well.”  Heartwing’s horn lit, and his voice boomed over the sounds of gunfire and chaos.  “Imperial forces, on my command, advance!  Specialists, maintain a moving shield above us!  Get ready to deal with the airship.  Everypony else, stay close, stay tight, and get ready to face infantry opposition.  Rarity, as soon as I sound the advance, I need an orange magical flare.  At least two hundred feet high.”

“Yes, Sir Heartwing!”

“Okay.”  Heartwing closed his eyes for just a second, a tight grimace of pain twisting his muzzle.  But only for a second.  “Advance at a trot!”

Everypony began to move at once, a hundred hooves and paws eating up dirt and snow as they rushed south.  Rarity’s horn lit, and the orange flare zoomed high into the sky. Dozens of unicorn horns lit up, brightening the night with their glow.  Even as the shield above them came down, dozens more took its place, all different colors.

The enemy in the distance certainly took notice; the Imperial forces lit up the night with their shields, inviting the deadly fire from above, as well as the hill to the west. 

But there was something else.  Emberglow could see flashes of light from the hill, as Heartwing’s hidden Discordants sprang into action.  She could see at least twenty different gauntlets lighting up with spells behind the enemy’s position.

But she couldn’t pay that much attention for long.  Princess Flurry stumbled, and Emberglow pressed into her side.

“Lean on me, Princess.  I will help you march.”

“I’m on your other side, Princess,” Emberglow heard Heartwing’s voice.  “We’ll trot together, and if you fall, Emberglow and I will carry you forward.”

Emberglow could practically see the Princess’ spine stiffen at that, and she walked a little straighter.  She tried not to smirk.  It was odd, really, that this ancient being, this immortal, was still prone to pettiness and pride.

Reassuring, in a way.

Emberglow didn’t have time to think about it, though.  As they trotted forward, the cannons of the airship above fired again, no longer conserving their ammo.  Emberglow never saw the shell hit, she only heard the scream of one of Rarity’s unicorns as the force of the ball smashed straight through the soldier’s shield and body.

“Leave her!” Heartwing called when Rarity turned.  “The medics will help her!”

Emberglow had heard the way the scream had cut off suddenly.  She doubted there would be anything left to help.  But Rarity nodded grimly, tears at the edges of her eyes, and kept running with the rest of them.

Another cannonball splashed down just in front of their formation, showering them all with dirt and rock.  Emberglow surged in front of the Princess, shielding her with wings and steel.  The shrapnel pinged off of Magnus’ shield and her armor, and Emberglow barely hesitated to keep running.

“Emberglow, are you…”

“Keep moving, highness!” Emberglow shouted.

It became an orderly loop amidst the chaos.  Run forward, duck under the oncoming fire, shield the princess.  It almost became mechanical after a while, but Emberglow resisted the urge to look into the distance and see how the rest of the army was doing. She remembered one of her lessons from the Seminary about large-scale battles.

Your job is to follow your orders, accomplish your objective, and keep your immediate squad members and subordinates safe, Lady Amaranth had said.  You won’t have time to worry about the larger battle around you.  Focus on what you are doing.  On the immediate task in front of you.  Battles are won by soldiers all working together to accomplish one great whole.

It made it easier, in a way.  There was a trust to it all.  She could trust Heartwing to keep his eye on the big picture.  She could trust Rarity to keep them as safe as possible from the cannonballs.  She could trust the medics behind them to handle any wounded.  She could trust the changelings to keep up with their supplies.

“What’s that?” Princess Flurry Heart’s voice was sharp with alarm.  Emberglow looked up.  Two more airships, their balloons dark blots in the shadowy sky above them, were swiftly joining the first.

“Reinforcements,” Heartwing spat.  “We keep going.  Rarity?”

“On it, darling.  Fire Team Silk, Fire Team Cashmere, maintain shields.  Fire Teams Taffeta and Satin, prepare to focus fire on the airships!”

There was a chorus of affirmations, and Emberglow watched the shields around them weaken as many of the unicorns began focusing on charging their horns for the eventual assault.  It would mean they had to be even more careful, but…

No.  Emberglow couldn’t focus on what they were doing, she had to focus on her task.  Emberglow re-cast her shield spell, just in time for all three airships to light up the night sky with cacophonous cannon fire.

Emberglow had felt bullets ricochet off her shields before, but she’d never felt a cannonball.  The force of the impact drove her to her knees with a gasp of pain.  Overwhelming force crushed on her from above, even as the cannonball bounced off.  She could hear a scream of pain.

“Emberglow!  Are you… “

Emberglow was already forcing herself to her hooves, waving off the princess’ concern.  “I’m fine, I’m fine.  Let’s…”

“Heartwing!”

Emberglow looked to the other side of the Princess.  Heartwing was down.  His eyes wide with agony.  One of his forehooves was a mass of blood, a jagged white shard of bone visible in the light of the unicorn horns all around them.

From below his knee, however, the rest of the hoof was just gone.

“Hold tight, sir, I’ll handle this!” Emberglow rammed down her growing panic and revulsion.  She raised her gauntlet, quickly casting.  Wound cauterization.  Blood restoration.  She couldn’t look into Heartwing’s eyes, but she could hear his rapid breathing.

“Emberglow.  No.  You have a job,” he panted at her.  “You have to keep going.”

“Sir!  We can’t…”

“I’ll take him to the medics!” Terminus was at their side in a flutter of dark wings. “Is he stable to move?”

Emberglow spared one last glance towards the horrific remains of Heartwing’s left forehoof.  “He is.”

“Good.  Go.”

“But Heartwing, darling!” Rarity called out.  Her own platoon had pulled to a halt, and once again were focusing on shields only.  “Who will…”

“Marchioness Rarity has the command,” Heartwing said firmly.  Terminus scooped him up in his hooves.  “Follow her orders.  Rarity, get us to the rendezvous point.”

Emberglow watched her marefriend.  Rarity’s eyes were wide, filled with panic.  Then she clenched them shut, and Emberglow could see a tear leak out.  Rarity nodded. “Y-yes, sir.”

“Good.  You’ll keep us all safe, Marchioness,” Heartwing said.  “I have the utmost faith in you.”

There was something bolstering about Heartwing’s unhesitating declaration.  Even Emberglow felt it.

“Go!” he shouted, and Rarity’s panic and fear changed.  She narrowed her eyes, set her jaw, and gave a grim smile.

“Yes, sir!” she affirmed, much more confidently.  Even as Terminus flew back towards the medic, Heartwing in his arms, Rarity was already shouting orders.  “Platoon, continue at a trot!  Fire Teams Taffeta and Satin, we’re going on the offensive!  Fire on those airships, and take them out!”

The running started again.  Emberglow felt her limbs aching from when the cannonball forced her into the ground before.  There might even be sprains.  She spread her wings, flapping, not enough to get airborne, but enough to support some of her weight and take the strain off her hooves. 

Meanwhile, from her right, dozens of unicorns began firing beams of light at the airships above them.  The beams of force scored black scorches on the underside of the ships, leaving behind little more than singed wood.

“They have Knights on board!” one of Rarity’s platoon unicorns cried out.  Indeed, even the little damage they were managing was soon blocked by answering shields from up above.  Emberglow could see them hesitating, their eyes casting about with worry.

“Princess Flurry!”

It seemed Rarity’s own worry from earlier was gone.  Only Emberglow seemed to notice the way Rarity’s legs shook; her voice was all confidence.

“You have practiced Aspha’s Arcane Transference, have you not?”

Princess Flurry nodded, a little nonplussed.

“Very well!  Fire Team Taffeta, keep up your barrage!  I don’t want them to realize anything is up! Satin, you ponies will begin charging your beams, but fire at the Transference spell!  The rest of you, keep those cannonballs off us!”

Flurry’s magic lit up, forming a bright orb of yellow light at the tip of her horn.  It was like a beacon, and Emberglow suddenly worried that it would draw in the cannon fire.  She forced herself into the air on tired wings, placing herself at the ready to block any incoming shells.

The unicorns of Fire Team Satin all gathered around, their horns a rainbow of color.  Each one fired a bright line of light at the orb on the tip of Princess Flurry’s horn.

“On my command, Princess, fire at the easternmost airship!” Rarity cried out. 

“Yes, ma’am!” Princess Flurry cried, sounding a little surprised at her own readiness to follow Rarity’s orders.

Emberglow could see the strain of their fast pace was taking its toll; Rarity was panting for breath.  Her own horn lit, cerulean magic brighter than any of the other streams flowing into Flurry’s horn.

The orb grew brighter and brighter, and another cannonball blasted into Emberglow’s shield spell.  This time she wasn’t able to brace against it, and the force blasted her shield apart, bouncing her hard against the ground.  Emberglow saw stars, groaning in pain as she forced herself to stand.

“Princess!  FIRE!” Rarity screamed, and the massive yellow orb of magic became a gigantic beam, a great spear of light that lanced through the night air.  It plowed through the side of the airship, leaving a gaping hole large enough for a pegasus to fly through without touching their wings to either side.  Emberglow could see the airship start to list to one side, before something exploded on board.

Once again the sky was lit up; not by magic, but by shockwaves of concussive force.  It was too far away to hear, but for a moment Emberglow could imagine the screams.

“How many?” Princess Flurry asked, her voice laced with horror.

“Now is not the time to think about that, darling,” Rarity called back.

Emberglow spread her wings, once again flying up to take a defensive position above the princess.

“I need to know, Rarity.  Please, tell me—”

“Princess Flurry, begin casting the transference spell again,” Rarity sounded a little indescisive herself.  “Prepare to fire on the northernmost airship.  At my command.”

“Rarity, please—”

“You have your orders, soldier!” Rarity barked harshly.  For a moment Princess Flurry’s eyes narrowed.  She was about to argue.  “Please, princess,” Rarity’s voice softened.  “Later.”

“Princess, we need you!” Emberglow added her voice to Rarity’s and the Princess flinched, relenting as the golden orb of impending death once again formed around the tip of her horn.

The continued fire from above was taking its toll; another unicorn fell, leaving fewer to charge Princess Flurry’s spell.  But once again the beams of force joined together, the growing orb of light a beacon for the army all around them.

Small projectiles pattered off Emberglow’s magical shield from up above.  The airship soldiers had realized what was about to happen and were firing back.  She held her physical shield above her, in case anything slipped through.

“Fire!” came Rarity’s cry again, and the blast of sunlight-colored violence once again rent the sky.  This time the spell missed the hull, but blasted the airship’s balloon to pieces.  The flying vessel began to plummet to the ground, even as the third airship started to turn and retreat.

There were a few parting shots from the ships cannons, but within moments it was out of range.

“So it’s done?” Princess Flurry asked, trying to catch her breath.

Rarity shook her head.  “No.  We can’t rest.  We have to reach the rendezvous point.  And if Heartwing’s Knights were unable to keep the forces on the hill pinned down, we may still have infantry ahead of us.”  Her horn lit again with a voice enhancement spell.  “Listen closely, soldiers!  We cannot let our guard down yet!  Keep moving forward, but keep your eyes out for approaching soldiers!  There may be infantry in the trees, so I need you all lively and ready to act should we come under fire!  Shield spells up and ready!”


*   *   *   *   *


Emberglow had never run so hard, or flown so hard, in her life.  As soon as she thought her legs could no longer carry her, she took to the skies, flying alongside Rarity and Princess Flurry.  She was a Knight; her body was capable of enduring something like this.  The ponies behind her didn’t have that luxury.  Many of them were flagging significantly, on their last legs, ready to collapse.  Every time Emberglow was sure the army would be able to take no more, however, Rarity’s booming voice reached out.

“Have faith, soldiers of the Empire!  We will win this day yet!  Keep pressing on, your Princess and your Empress believe in you!”

Again, perhaps not the most eloquent of Rarity’s speeches; especially given that the mare herself was also habitually out of breath when she called out.  But each little morale boost was a breath of fresh air into the flagging soldiers, pushing them just a few more steps forward, a few more miles along, a few more hills closer to their target.

“Is that…” Princess Flurry cried out, hope and desperation in her own panting voice.

It was the train tracks she was pointing at; the nexus of the line from New Canterlot City, the line heading north, and the line heading up the mountain.  Their rendezvous point.

“We’re here!  We made it!”  Rarity couldn’t help but cheer, and a roar of approval managed to float from the line of exhausted soldiers.  “Rest, secure the supplies, drink some water, slowly, and get ready for the next march.  Platoon leaders, I shall require readiness reports in ten minutes.  I shall be with Sir Heartwing and the medics.”

There were some groans at that order, but the ponies did as they were told.  Meanwhile, Emberglow kept watching Rarity, a little stunned.

“Was she always like this?” Princess Flurry said at her side, sounding a little surprised.  “I never took her for much of a military commander, back when I knew her.”

“You never saw her in wartime,” Emberglow reasoned.  “Maybe… different circumstances bring out different parts of us.”

Emberglow took a moment to catch her own breath before turning her attention to the Princess.

“How are your injuries, highness?” she asked.  “Any lingering pain?  Any new pain?”

“Nothing.  I am fine.”

“Very well, highness.  Let’s get you to the medics.  You’ve done enough, I think.  We need to coordinate with Heartwing and Rarity.”

Emberglow was grateful that the princess didn’t bother to argue this time.

The medics were already hard at work.  Emberglow locked eyes with Topaz, who was busy wrapping bandages around a Diamond Dog’s arm.  The dog was gritting her teeth in pain.

Lofty was there as well, carrying at least twenty waterskins wrapped by their straps around his neck.  He moved about the soldiers, offering drinks to everypony, and helping those too wounded to raise their own hooves.

Heartwing and Rarity were already deep in conversation by the time Emberglow and the Princess found them.  Heartwing was laying back on a stretcher.  A bandage was wrapped around his wounded hoof. Or, what was left of it. Emberglow flinched.

“…can’t rest too long,” Heartwing was saying.  “For now we have the element of surprise.  But if that airship gets back to New Canterlot City, they will know where we are.  And they’ll send reinforcements.  Our safest route is up the mountain.”

“I agree, darling, but look around you!  The ponies are exhausted.  We need to rest.”

“An hour,” Heartwing said.  “That’s all we can spare.  Then we start our march.  Assign one of your fire teams to be our rearguard, destroying the train tracks behind us as we go.”

“Very well,” Rarity said.  “Fire Team Linen had the least casualties.  They’ll do well.”

“Good.  Now we just need to rest, and wait for…”

There was a noise from the perimeter.  Each pony stiffened, waiting to hear whatever bad news this was.  Terminus flew in from above.  Emberglow felt a flash of jealousy; Terminus didn’t look tired at all.

“Scout reports, sir, ma’am.  The Discordant forces are almost here.  Looks like they were able to break away.”

“Good for them,” Heartwing grinned.  “Someponies are getting promotions after this.  Help me up, we’ll go meet them.”

Emberglow opened her mouth, protests at the tip of her tongue.  Terminus had the same expression on his face.

“Yes, let’s,” Princess Flurry’s voice preemptively overrode them.  “I wish to thank our allies personally.”

Terminus and Emberglow both gave each other exasperated looks, but between the two of them they were able to help Heartwing onto Terminus’ back.

“Not a lewd word, rascal,” Terminus said, even as a mischievous sort of grin slipped over Heartwing’s pain filled expression.

“So you don’t want me to say anything about you giving me a ride?”

“What did I just say?” Terminus sighed, and Rarity giggled.  “Okay.  Let’s go.”

The party moved to the edge of the temporary encampment, to where crystal pony guards with rifles stood sentry.  Emberglow looked out into the darkness, scanning for any hint of her compatriot Knights.

Through the darkness and the snow, Emberglow could make out several ponies pushing their way towards the Empire’s forces. 

“Wounded to the front!” a unicorn mare called out from her position leading the mostly yellow armored Knights who filtered through.  She had a nearly pure-white coat that blended in with the snow that spotted the ground, though it and her yellow armor was splattered with blood from the wounded pony who leaned against her. “Medics, link up with the Empire detachment and begin triage!  The rest of you, split off and see what we can do to help the Empire ponies with their freight.”

She moved slowly up to Heartwing and the others, helping the limping pony at her side.

“Snowfall Shiver and Vex Blackwater, reporting as ordered, sir,” she said, saluting awkwardly so the pony at her side wouldn’t topple over.  He nodded as well, though he didn’t lift his hoof to salute.  Emberglow saw bandages over much of his face and left side, covering one eye completely over a matted green mane.

“Well done on your ambush, Captains,” Heartwing said.  “Both of you.  Blackwater, are you going to make it?”

“I’ll survive, sir,” the stallion said, his voice firm despite his injuries.

“Good.  Report to the medics.  Snow, you’re with Rarity.  She’s in charge of the unicorn units, she’ll fill you in on the details of the plan.  We rest for an hour, then we’re charging up the mountain.”

“Yes, sir!” the wounded Discordant said cheerfully, with a great deal of energy.  Emberglow blinked, bemused, as he seemed to stand straighter as he marched off, unaided now, in the direction of the triage unit.

“I’ve never seen a pony so happy to be ordered off to the medics,” Emberglow noted.

“He would be,” the Discordant unicorn, Snow, noted sardonically.  “He’s married to our chief medic.  And still just as much of a lovestruck dope as he was the day they met.”

“Are your forces ready for another push, Captain Shiver?” Heartwing asked, and the mare nodded.

“A rest will help, sir.  We bring healers and extra batteries.  Even our wounded will be ready to support your assault.”

“Good!  Get ready to…”

“EMBERGLOW!”

A far too cheerful and far too loud familiar voice burst out of the approaching Discordants, and Emberglow’s head snapped up just in time to catch the projectile hug launched her direction.

“B-bubblegum?”

“Emberglow!  Surprise!” the mare giggled, crushing Emberglow in a tight hug.  Emberglow grunted, pushing a little to dislodge her even as she grinned.

“I didn’t know you were here!” Emberglow said, excited.

“She almost wasn’t,” Captain Shiver deadpanned.  “What with her tendency to ignore orders, break decorum, and interrupt important officer briefings.”

Bubblegum shrank down, ears pinning back, taking a step away, even as Heartwing started to giggle.

“Oh, I so missed being surrounded by my Knights,” he said, while Princess Flurry’s expression grew alarmed.  “You know, I’m actually starting to look forward to what comes next, now.”

Emberglow glanced up the mountain above them, looming tall and dark and deadly.  She wasn’t too sure, herself.  But there was something about the irrepressible, bouncing mare standing right next to her that did lend a certain strength to her spirit.  She ignored the foreboding mountain and turned a smile to Bubblegum.

“Me too,” she said.
> Interlude: The Wings of the Mothers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: The Wings of the Mothers





Six there were, now five remain.
One rules from the shadows, the others follow blindly.
Hope is lost, but the lost can be found.
The Sleeper will awaken at the hooves of her children.

The Generous will find the lost and restore Hope to Equestria.
The same words, spoken a thousand times.  The same secrets, hidden in a thousand minds.
But the Generous are called to a higher task, and their Orphans will take wing.

Take wing, sons and daughters of the Generous!
Take wing, and answer the call of your mothers!
Take wing, and rise to meet the Day of Hope!
Take wing, and spread the word!
Take wing, carried up on the ancient feathers of the angel pegasi of old!
Take wing, and be orphans no longer.


The days had blended into weeks.  Time stopped meaning anything.  The sun rose and fell, rain came and went, but it didn’t matter.

Tir Rapide didn’t have the sky, so nothing else mattered.

He’d known what was coming when he’d received his transfer orders.  The words on the paper were seared into his brain.

You are ordered to report to Outpost 80.  You are required to arrive within one week of receiving this order.  Failure will cause you to be arrested for treason.

Treason.  Not dereliction of duty, but treason.  And everypony in the Marines knew what Outpost 80 meant.  Punishment duty.

And even though nopony would say it, everypony in his squad knew what they were really being punished for.  They knew too much.

His captain, Fair Weather, had said something about his failure to apprehend the prisoner after the Knight they were following died, but Tir was willing to bet most of the other ponies who’d seen too much at Camp Borealis had been put away, hidden, or otherwise silenced by the damned Mystics.

There wasn’t even any sort of comfort to be had being so close to the Capital.  The Outpost was built into a gorge only a few miles from New Canterlot City, carved into caves so that only a small slit of the sky was visible at any one time.  Not that the prisoners were allowed to spend much time outside.  Just an hour and a half of rec time each day, then it was back to the factory.

New marine uniforms had to come from somewhere, after all.

It was rec time, however, and Tir knew if he didn’t take the chance to at least look at the sky, to look and to hope, he’d be stuck inside for another twenty two hours before he got another chance.  So he ignored the other prisoners around him, dressed in their bright yellow uniforms, chatting and playing and trying to live at the bottom of this Saints-forsaken crack in the ground.

It was overcast today, as most days had been lately.  Heavy, gray clouds thick and pregnant with snow.  Something was wrong, but none of the Knights were saying anything about it yet.  At least, nothing more than, “Have faith, the Saints will protect us.”  Faith was fine, but the Saints had provided marines and Knights for a reason.  Where faith couldn’t protect, you needed spears and rifles.  And Tir wished there was an enemy he could point his rifle at.

Staring at the clouds high above, though, gave him at least a tiny sense of freedom.  It was enough to stave off the cold bite of the air for a few moments.  He even spread his wings, clipped and impotent though they might be, letting the chill breeze float over them.

It wasn’t flying, but it was something.

“Prisoner T-132?  The commander needs to talk to you.”

Tir turned.  Two guards, uniformed marines with the silver MP badge pinned to their collars, stood sternly behind him.  He nodded, and they took up positions on either side, marching him towards the yawning mouth of the cave that led to the administration offices.

It hurt to lose this tiny glimpse of freedom, but one didn’t argue with the commander.

He never thought to muster any sort of resistance as they guided him through the hallways.  Tir was a marine, even in prison, and he held true to his oath of service.  Even though he knew he’d done nothing wrong, really, if this was how his country needed him to serve, he would do so.

The commander’s office was still piled high with boxes.  The previous commander, a stern older mare, had retired to a desk job in the capital a week ago.  The new commander was still feeling things out and easing into the position, and Tir didn’t want to do anything to upset him.  Especially given the lavender armor he wore.

Commander Feather Bolt sat behind his desk, his attention on the papers resting there.  He was a young pegasus, though with a look of grave concentration in his gray eyes that somehow made him seem older than he was.  He wore his purple robes, but a glowing rune gauntlet was strapped to one hoof.  A brilliant orb of light floated right behind him.  He never even looked up when the guards pushed Tir inside.  “Close the door behind you.”  He only lifted his head when he heard the click of the door.  “Sorry about the rune light.  It’s probably psychosomatic, but I find electric lights give me a headache.”

“Sir?”

“Sorry.  You probably don’t care.”  Commander Bolt’s smile was barely an upturn of his lips.  “Lieutenant, we need to talk about why you’re here.”

“You called me here, sir.”   He flinched.  “I assume it’s time to…” he fluttered his useless wings.  It was too hard to even say, but pegasi had to be stopped from escaping somehow.

“Hmm,” Commander Bolt hummed as he spared a glance at his desk.  Tir followed his gaze and shuddered.  The scissors were right there, but the commander didn’t pick them up. 

“Sir?” Tir did not like feeling unsure.

“Hold your questions for a moment, Lieutenant.”  The commander raised his gauntlet, and began a complicated scrawl through the air.  Two, three, four, five, then six runes.  Tir knew next to nothing about the Knights’ arts, but he knew that six meant an incredibly complex spell.  “There.  For the moment, everypony outside this room will hear a fairly normal, if muffled and inaudible conversation.  Tir, I have some questions for you.”

Now his heart was starting to beat quickly.  He could feel the cold sweat on his spine, just under his prison uniform.  Conventional wisdom said it was a bad idea to be locked in a room with a Mystic, answering questions.

In fact, the last time it had happened, he’d been banished to this outpost.

“I’ll do what I can, sir.”

“Good.  Now.  Let’s start by talking about how you ended up here.”

“You’ve read my file, sir.”

“I’d like to hear you tell me about it.”  The commander blinked, glancing at an empty chair on the other side of the desk.  “Sit, please.  Be comfortable.”  He laughed.  “I realize that me saying so won’t put you at ease, but do so regardless.  For me.”

It was never wise to refuse orders.  Even politely worded ones.  He sat.

“Now, speak, please.  Nopony will hear what you say besides me.”

“I don’t know what I can say that’s not in the report, sir.  My squad and I were assigned as support the Adamant.  When he fell to the heretic, I made a call to retreat.  Sir Steadfast said it was cowardice, that I should have pursued.  I was sent here as punishment.”

“That’s pretty much what the report says, yes,” Commander Bolt said.  “Do you feel like the punishment was just?”

Tir’s throat went bone dry.  He tried to swallow, and couldn’t.  “Sir?  I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Honestly, I would hope.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, then.  The punishment was just because a Knight said it was.”

Commander Bolt pursed his lips with displeasure.  “Hmm.  And if a different Knight were to tell you it wasn’t just?”

It was like a cold claw squeezing Tir’s heart.  He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a single word.  “Please.”

Commander Bolt stared closely at him for a few moments.  Tir had to force himself not to squirm.  “Okay.  We can set that aside for now.  I have other questions.  The heretics you were chasing.  A griffon, a pegasus Discordant, a disgraced Radiant, and one other.  Who was the other?”

“I was never told her name, sir.” He was barely able to say the lie with a straight face.

“You didn’t hear it once?” Commander Bolt’s face was a blank mask, his eyes flat and emotionless.

“I…”

“Nevermind that.” The reversal made Tir blink with confusion.  “Let me ask you some hypotheticals.  You marines like to gossip sometimes, right?”

“T-that would be inappropriate, sir.” Tir was reeling.

“Inappropriate, sure.  Doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.  Saints, even the Mystics gossip among ourselves.  But I’m curious.  Do marines ever gossip about the Mystics?”

“Uh…”

“Nothing specific, of course.” Commander Bolt waved a hoof dismissively.  “But in general, when marines talk about the Mystics, what’s the tone?”

“F-fear, sir.”  Tir cursed his slip of the tongue as soon as he’d answered.  He was breathing hard now.  “I mean…”

“Understandable.” Commander Bolt cut him off.  “An entire Order dedicated to ferreting out all your secrets, your deepest regrets, your biggest shames, your darkest thoughts.  And we’re as good as you think we are.”  He flipped open a file folder on his desk and began to read.  “Tir Rapide.  Lieutenant, Diarchy Marines.  Eight years of service, only two yellow marks on your record.  A drunk-and-disorderly charge in training, and a charge of striking a superior officer.”

“T-those were…”

“Expunged, yes.  Officially.  But remember who I am.” He flipped a page.  “For what it’s worth, I would have punched Captain Hard Line, too.  He was a coward, and the Adamants pinched him for embezzling two years later.”

Tir snapped his lips shut.

“But hypothetically.  I want you to get inside the head of the Mystics.  Think like one, for a moment.  You’re in charge of a group of marines that have seen something.  Something they shouldn’t have seen.  What do you do?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Speculate.  That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

Tir didn’t want to play this game.  But an order was an order.  “A b-blacksite?  Some sort of tucked away prison?”

“So obvious.” Commander Bolt sighed.  “But perhaps.  That is what the rumors say about us, right?”  He waved a hoof at his office.  “Would you call this a blacksite?”

Tir shook his head.  It was a military prison, and a textile factory.  Not some sort of secret facility.

“Exactly.  Who was it you saw in the camp?”

Tir gaped, openmouthed.

“Nevermind.  So you’d send the offenders to a blacksite?  Even if they did nothing wrong?”

“I…”

“So why didn’t he?” Commander Bolt tapped a hoof on the desk, his eyes unfocused.

Tir gulped.  “I thought we were speaking hypothetically.”

“My apologies.  Let me word that differently.  The marines in question saw something they shouldn’t.  But burying them in some blacksite would attract too much attention from your fellow Mystics.  Hypothetically.  As would killing them.  Draw attention to something you were trying to occlude.  Like the name of the pony you saw.  Who was it again?”

“I… I don’t… I have orders.”

“Orders not to say?  So you do know?”  The Commander’s eyes lit up with excitement, and he actually smiled.  “Good to know I’m not wasting my time, then.  Well, let’s try a different approach, shall we?”

Tir wanted to flee.

“At this point, I think I’ve scared you enough, Tir.  Perhaps I should apologize.”  Commander Bolt closed the folder, sliding it away from him with a hoof.  “It’s ingrained into us while we’re training, really.  But sometimes we forget how to deal with ponies without interrogating them.  How to relate to them, you know?  Tell me, how do you feel about poetry?”

“P-poetry?” Another abrupt subject change.  Another attempt to throw Tir off-balance.

“Yes.  Verse, rhyming, though sometimes not.  I wanted to ask you about an odd bit of verse I heard as a child.  Something my mother shared with me, about orphans and their mothers, about hope and wings.”

In the silence that followed Tir heard nothing but the desperate panting of his own lungs.  “You mean, the Prophecy of the Mothers.  Oh, Saints, if you’re playing games with me please just kill me and get it over with.”

Commander Bolt gave a sigh of relief, and to Tir’s utter shock, it seemed like every muscle in the Commander’s body relaxed at once.

“Thank the Saints,” the Knight muttered sotto voce.  The smile on his face widened, became both relieved and oddly cheerful.  He reached to the scissors on his desk, pulling them off and placing them in a drawer.  “I’m going to forget to clip your wings today, Tir.  Can you keep that quiet?”

Tir nodded, stunned and speechless.

“I thought I was right about you.  That you were one of the Seamstress’ Orphans.  Like me.”  He leaned forward.  “Something big is coming.  The Mothers need our help.  I can’t say more out loud.  I don’t dare.  But can I count on you to answer their call?”

Tir nodded again.

“But first, I have to know.  Who was it you saw?”

“It was Lady Rarity.  A unicorn.”

Bolt grinned.  “No hesitation.  Once you knew who I served, you didn’t even stop to think, did you?”  Tir nodded.  He still wasn’t quite sure this wasn’t some sort of strange Mystic entrapment.  “How far does that loyalty go?”

“I would do anything short of heresy.  I would give my life, sir,” Tir whispered.

“I hope that won’t be necessary,” Bolt shook his head, then turned to look over his shoulder.  “You can come in now.”

Tir’s jaw dropped as a pony walked through the wall behind Bolt.  He jerked to his hooves, backing away from the glowing apparition before him.  Its form was akin to a pony’s, but it glowed with an outline of twilight.  Tir raised a hoof to shield his eyes from the baleful light.

“Please, Tir.  Be still.  You are in no danger.  I would like to introduce you to the Oracle.”

“Nice to meet you, Tir Rapide,” the glowing specter said.  “I am the Oracle.  I have guided the hooves of the Grand Masters of the Radiant for centuries.  Fairy Light calls on all the Orphans for aid.  But I have a gift for you, one that will make the path we walk so much easier.  Bolt?”

Bolt opened his drawer once again, retrieving a small vial of sparkling black liquid.  He placed it on the table, and slid it towards Tir.  “Your life is about to change forever, soldier.”

 

 
> Chapter 60
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 60


Report sent via dragon fire scroll from Brigadier General Breaking Wave of Fort Tide Watch to High General North Wind, Grand Master of the Knights Adamant

General-

It is my grim duty to inform you of a new threat. Or perhaps an old one that has grown cleverer.

As per your orders, my Knights and marines have been at a heightened state of readiness ever since the news came of the Discordant raids around Appleoosa and the surrounding area. Sir Steel Shell and Lady Sea Salt are hard at work, but I fear they are chasing shadows.  The enemy is very difficult to pin down, and refuses to engage us in a pitched battle.

Yesterday I ordered my captains to make ready the Sunrise Fleet.  My intent was to move several ships along the southern coastline, to provide a backdrop and hopefully harry the Discordant into a pincer, with Sir Steel and Lady Sea at their throats and my cannons at their flanks.

During a customary pre-sailing inspection, though, my soldiers discovered sabotage.  Almost by chance, or more likely the beneficence of Saint Rainbow, my sailors found underwater explosives cemented to the bottom of at least nine of my vessels.  While attempting to remove the explosives, one of them was set off, resulting in the deaths of three marines and wounding seven others. 

Blue Feathers sank right in the harbor; there was no saving her.  She was my favorite ship.

We scrapped the plan of attack and immediately launched an investigation into the sabotage, removing explosives from as many of the ships as we could find.  I also ordered an entire squad of Knights to begin patrolling the harbor underwater, using water breathing spells.

Several marines found them hours later, washed up on shore, unconscious but otherwise unharmed.

I will be conducting a thorough investigation and shall provide you with more information as soon as I have it.  I suspect there may be a new threat coming from under the waters.  I will keep you apprised.

Sir Breaking Wave

Old Canterlot, 1113 AF

“This is not how I expected to return to this place,” Emberglow whispered softly to Bubblegum.  The two mares walked side by side, surrounded on all sides by crumbling, dilapidated buildings.  The snow fell all around them, and the only sounds were hushed chatter between soldiers and Knights and the crunch of hooves on fresh snow.

“How did you expect to?” Bubblegum asked curiously.

“I don’t know.  Maybe as a teacher?” Emberglow said.

Bubblegum giggled.  “Why did I already know you were going to say that?”  She nudged Emberglow’s armored barrel with one hoof.  “Don’t worry.  I’m sure you’ll still find a way to lecture and shape young minds.  It’s just your armor color that’s different.”

“I think my own forces could very well use the instruction of an experienced combat medic,” Princess Flurry said from Emberglow’s other side.

Emberglow blushed.  “I’m not experienced, highness.  I’m barely—"

“You’ve seen more combat than most of my entire armed forces combined,” Princess Flurry cut her off. 

Emberglow couldn’t exactly argue with that.  She nodded.

“Would you believe I was with her when she popped her combat cherry?” Bubblegum chimed in, and Emberglow glared at her.

“Bubblegum, that kind of language is not appropriate in front of—”

But Princess Flurry Heart was, in fact, giggling.

“I don’t know, Emberglow.  The princess thinks I’m funny.  Besides, you were excellent in that fight.”

“I…” Emberglow didn’t know what to say.  On the one hoof, Bubblegum’s respect was something she’d never sought to earn, but was an unexpected gift.  On the other hoof, that was the first time she’d met Lightning Bug.  It wasn’t a memory she wanted to revisit.

Bubblegum seemed to realize she’d overstepped.  “Aw, damn, Emberglow, I’m really sorry.  I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Emberglow said in a rush, glancing at Princess Flurry, who was trying not to look too curious.  “I’d rather not talk about it though.”

The three of them lapsed into silence.  Emberglow had no desire to break it, so she merely listened to the continued sound of their hoofsteps on the snow.  She kept her eyes on the buildings all around them; the crumbling stone, turned gray and yellow with age, hiding the secrets of a dead city over a thousand years old. 

And, as far as Emberglow knew, hiding Mystic attackers, too.

It was probably safe.  They were far behind the front lines, where Rarity and the Discordant unicorn captain, Snowfall, led the way.  They were even further behind the scouts, mostly changelings in disguise, flitting between the streets and ruins in animal form.  Princess Flurry had argued against this; she was a warrior herself, fully capable of fighting and defending herself.  But Heartwing had prevailed eventually.

“You’re our ace-in-the-hole,” he had said.  “Our surprise wild card.  I’d rather keep you back until you’re needed, in reserve.  Besides, you’re still recovering from your wounds.”

She’d seen his logic, though she’d been grumpy about it.  The plus side, though, was that Bubblegum had been assigned to her defense alongside Emberglow.

Emberglow had, understandably, been nervous about introducing her boisterous friend to the decidedly royal pony.  But Princess Flurry and Bubblegum seemed to be hitting it off nicely.

“I’m with you, though, Emberglow,” Bubblegum was finally the one to break the silence.  “It’s surreal being back here.  I never thought I’d return.  Like, ever.”

“Was that before or after you joined the Discordant?” Emberglow teased a little.  Bubblegum laughed.

“Either.  I just never really liked studying, you know?  I did what I had to do, but I mostly made it because of a talent for fighting and a skill with physical enhancement spells.  I spent most of my time in Old Canterlot trying not to get caught sneaking out into the ruins to…”

She cut off suddenly, her white fur turning a little pink.

“Oh?” Princess Flurry said.

“Y-you have to understand, it was before I was with either of my husbands,” Bubblegum muttered, and both the princess and Emberglow laughed a little.  “But yes, I used to sneak stallions out here to… uh…”  She cleared her throat.  “The danger was a real turn-on.”

“Danger?” Princess Flurry asked.

“Nopony was actually allowed into the ruins besides the Knights Mystic,” Emberglow explained.  “They patrol the place to watch for wayward squires sneaking out of the Palace.

“I’d heard they use the palace for their training ground,” Princess Flurry darkened, and Emberglow and Bubblegum both paled, looking at her.

For a moment, she’d forgotten that the mare standing next to her was an ancient creature who had lived through centuries.

“I forgot, you’ve been here before, huh?” Bubblegum said with her usual lack of tact.  “How long has it been?”

She was clearly ignoring the shushing motion Emberglow was making with her hooves.

“The last time I was here was Twilight Sparkle’s funeral,” Flurry said, and it was enough to shut even Bubblegum up.  Flurry’s forlorn gaze drifted over the ruined buildings and broken streets around them.

“Would you tell us about it?” Emberglow asked, surprising herself.  She wasn’t even sure why.  “I mean, if you want to.  I’m sure it’s painful.  I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s fine,” Flurry said.  “Hmm.  It has been a while.”

She swept a hoof wide, over the ruins.  “I’d never seen the city so… alive.  It was full of ponies, and full of color.  She would have loved it.  The roofs and windows were draped with flags; Equestrian flags, and flags in her own colors.  Ponies were in the streets, mourning, and celebrating Twilight Sparkle’s life.”

Flurry winced, her lip twisting in a scowl.

“I was so angry.  How dare they.  They’d practically forced her out politically.  Piece by piece.  At least, they’d been trying to.  By that point Mother and I had barely ever visited here; if we wanted to see Auntie Twily, we’d visit her at her castle in Ponyville.  She was spending more and more time there anyways, with Fluttershy’s declining health and Discord’s deterioration. 

“It just struck me as being so hypocritical.  The common ponies loved her, of course.  But the nobility were just putting on a show of grief.  I imagined in every single pompous, overly primped up face a hint of glee.  ‘Finally’, those eyes seemed to say.  ‘With her out of the way we can have everything we wanted.’  I was sick with anger.  And grief.”

Emberglow tried to imagine what Princess Flurry was saying.  The buildings around her all done up in lavender drapes, ponies moving about with solemn expressions of mourning.  The glint of pleasure in the eyes of overly dressed nobles.  Only in her imagination it was Knights; she could see Steadfast Word’s face, his lips spouting pious lies while his eyes sparkled with ambition.  It was a chilling thought.

“I never saw a reason to come back after that,” Princess Flurry continued.  “There was no need.  The ponies here rejected us, so we abandoned them.”

Princess Flurry’s ears drooped with guilt.  Emberglow was about to say something.

Bubblegum snorted. “That’s dumb.  You didn’t abandon them.  They abandoned you.  You were always there, they just had to reach out.”  The irrepressible Bubblegum reached up high to pat Flurry Heart on her armored withers.  “Don’t beat yourself up about stupid stuff, Princess.”

“Bubblegum!  You can’t talk to a princess that way!” Emberglow hissed.

“Knight Bubblegum, you may absolutely talk to this princess that way,” Princess Flurry said.  “You remind me of my great granddaughter.  You’d be fast friends with Topaz, I imagine.”

“I’ve heard a bit from Emberglow,” Bubblegum said.  “I’d love to meet her.”

The conversation paused when a scout appeared; a short, blue-maned pegasus stallion wearing Discordant armor.

“Highness,” he saluted.  “Marchioness.  Lady Rarity has secured a facility in which to set up our command center and field hospital for the attack.  It’s safe.  I can escort you in, if you like.”

“Lead the way, Sir…”

“Knight Lieutenant Havoc Sprint, highness.  This way, please.”

They followed the sky blue pegasus towards the ruin of a two-story building.  The top floor was completely exposed on its sides, but the roof was still partially intact.

“Keep your heads down,” Havoc said.  “As long as you can’t see the castle, there’s no chance of them seeing us.  Once we’re under cover we can walk about more freely.”

“Have there been many enemy scouts?” Emberglow asked.

“A few,” Havoc said.  “So far none have made it back to the walls.  Lady Rarity says the assault will begin in a few minutes.”

Emberglow’s heart began to pound.

“You want to be there with her?” Bubblegum said, and Emberglow nodded.  “Me too.  I get it, don’t worry.  But I’m sure we’ll be busy back at the command center.  Maybe I’ll be able to guard the princess so you can help out with the medics. I’ll introduce you to the head medic.”

“I think I should be perfectly safe in Lady Bubblegum’s hooves, if you wished to assist the healers,” Princess Flurry said as they stepped into the building.  “Under the cover of these ruins, the enemy will not be able to attack us easily.  And you won’t be too far.”

“Thank you, Princess.”  She knew what both of them were doing, and she didn’t mind.  Keeping her hooves busy would help with the worry.

Inside, the ruin was much cleaner than Emberglow had expected.  Several ponies, dressed in gray and white camouflage, were moving about the large room, clearing out rubble and organizing supplies.  In the south corner, several ponies dressed in similar camouflage robes, only with a red cross on their backs, were setting up cots under the direction of a yellow pegasus mare with a glittery white mane.

“Highness!  Over here, Princess!”

The call came from the other end of the ruin, where there was a table set up, complete with cushions to sit on.  The pegasus calling them over was familiar.  Emberglow and the princess approached.

“Welcome to Camp First Step, Princess Flurry, Marchioness Emberglow.”  It was Colibri, the bar owner from Angel’s Rest.  She smiled as she met Emberglow’s eyes, and even waved happily to Bubblegum.  “I’m Colibri, camp quartermaster.  I’ve got a station set up for you over here, where you can take reports and help direct the assault.  Let me know if there’s anything you need; I’ve been asked to provide food and refreshments to the camp staff.”

“Some water would be lovely, plus whatever my faithful guards require,” the princess said. 

“Water is fine,” Emberglow said.

“Beer!” Bubblegum cheered, then immediately subsided when Emberglow glared at her.  “…or water for now.  You did bring some of your vanilla ale, though, didn’t you Colibri?”

“For later,” Colibri scolded with a smile, then rushed off, returning with three mugs of water balanced on her back.  She set them at the table.  “Marchioness Rarity says she’ll have a report on their readiness within the next minute or so.  You can await it here while you rest up.”

“Where is Heartwing?” Flurry asked, and Colibri pointed to one of the hospital cots, where Heartwing appeared to be engaged in an argument with the glittery-maned pegasus.  “Emberglow, would you go check on him?  I’d like him to assist here, if he can.”

“Yes, highness,” Emberglow paused long enough to take a large sip of her water before moving over to see what the two were arguing about.

“…need recovery time, sir, not more duties!  You lost a chunk of your leg, for Saint Rarity’s sake!”

“You know,” Heartwing was arguing back.  “You shouldn’t invoke the Saints when you’ve literally met this one in real life.  Probably bad form.”

“You’re trying to change the subject, and it won’t work!” the medic fired back.  “Sir, you’re just going to have to accept the fact that you’re grounded for the rest of this mission.  We’ll get you a prosthesis as soon as we can, but even so you’re not fighting again for a while!”

“Destiny may disagree with you, Life,” Heartwing said softly.

“Destiny can wait for you to get better!” she snarled back.

Emberglow cleared her throat, and the pegasus jerked her gaze up.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Emberglow began, then shook her head.  “Well, I did.  But Princess Flurry requires Heartwing’s presence.”

“What?” the medic snapped, even as Heartwing stuck his tongue out at her and started to rise from the cot.  “There’s no way…”

“Excuse me,” Emberglow said, holding a hoof out to stop Heartwing.  “That doesn’t mean you can defy a medic’s orders, sir.  You’re still confined to bed.  We’ll just have to take your bed over to the command center.”

“But…” Heartwing whined.  “That’s not very dignified.”

“Too bad,” Emberglow said.  “It’s what you get for tormenting a medic.”  She held out her hoof to the mare, who shook it.  “Hi, I’m Emberglow.”

“We all know your name, Marchioness,” the mare said.  “I’m Life Flight, chief medic here, perpetual thorn in the side of recalcitrant patients.”

“Thanks for keeping this scoundrel in line, Life Flight,” Emberglow said, while Heartwing sputtered. “Now, if you’ll get the other side of this cot we can move him over to the command center.”

“Don’t you dare jostle me,” Heartwing finally scowled.

“Just for that, sir, I’m adding two weeks to your convalescence time,” Life Flight said firmly, and Heartwing squawked with indignation.  “Don’t worry, we’ll keep you from falling off.”

Between the two pegasi, they were able to move a fuming Heartwing over to the table where Bubblegum, Colibri, and Princess Flurry waited.

“Heartwing,” the princess asked, voice coolly polite.  “Are you recovering well?”

“I’m being made a prisoner in my own camp,” Heartwing grumbled.  “Lorded over by tyrannical medics and their allies.”

“Far be it from me to gainsay the informed opinions of our finest healers,” Princess Flurry said.  “I’m glad you could join us, though.”  She addressed Life Flight.  “You’ll be able to fit him with a prosthetic, medic…”

“Life Flight, ma’am.  Um, er, your highness.  And yes, we will, but these things take time.  We’ll sort out a temporary solution so he can still move around.”

“Thank you, Medic Flight.  I’m sure there are other patients you need to see to.”  It was a clear dismissal, and Life Flight gave an awkward bow before returning back to the hospital corner of the indoor camp.  “Now.  We’re all here.  What comes next?”

“Wait, where are Terminus, Lofty, and Topaz?” Emberglow asked.  She’d expected to see Topaz among the other medics, providing emotional support.

“Duchess Topaz is currently in the field, ready to help transport the wounded back to the hospital,” Colibri said.  “Lofty and Terminus are preparing with the assault force.  Terminus as long-range support, Lofty is leading a platoon of shock troops.”

“Shock troops?” Emberglow asked with alarm.

“The plan is to take as much advantage of surprise as possible.  We are aware of several small breaches in the palace walls, often used by rebellious students to sneak into the ruins themselves,” Heartwing explained. Emberglow remembered using one such breach herself, with Lofty.  “If we’re fast and quiet enough, we can get infantry past those holes and inside the grounds before they can seal the palace against us.”

“Why not seal them to begin with?” Bubblegum asked.  “They have to know the students do this.”

“If I had to guess,” Heartwing said.  “I’d say it’s on purpose.  Young ponies need an outlet.  They need to feel rebellious.  This gives them a somewhat safe way to expend those instincts.”

“That doesn’t seem sinister enough,” Emberglow muttered.

“That, or they do it to see who’s willing to rebel.  Who likes to color outside the line, so they know who to keep an eye on in the future.”

That sounded more likely to Emberglow, and Bubblegum nodded grimly.

“Whatever the reason, if those cracks are still unguarded, we’ll be able to sneak in a strike force,” Heartwing continued.  “The sun is still two hours from rising, so we have a chance to take the walls before they even know we’re here.”

“Do you really think we’ll be that lucky?” Princess Flurry asked, and Heartwing shook his head.

“No plan lasts very long beyond first contact.  But the element of surprise is still a great point in our favor.  Besides, taking the walls with minimal little bloodshed should be one of our most important priorities.”

“Indeed,” Flurry said.  “We’re here to liberate, not conquer.”

“They won’t see it that way, highness,” Heartwing said.  “I’ve been trying to tell them that for three centuries.”

“With violence,” Flurry shot back.

“What do you think we’re doing today?” Heartwing said.  “What do you think we’ve already done?  Today is going to be violent, no matter what we do.  We can only minimize the damage.”

“Well, we can’t do much,” Bubblegum said.  “Not much more than wait, that is.”

Everypony at the table looked uncomfortable.  Emberglow couldn’t help but wonder what Rarity was up to, right now.

They waited for an eternity.  Emberglow was glad nopony had set up a clock; otherwise she’d be counting the seconds.

“Hey,” Bubblegum began suddenly.  “I just thought about it.  Princess Flurry here is responsible for raising the sun, right? At least that’s what they were saying back when we marched.  Couldn’t she just… delay it a little so we have more darkness?”

The horror on Flurry Heart’s face let everypony know exactly what she thought of that tactic.

“No, she shouldn’t,” Heartwing said.  “We’re not disrupting the entire world’s natural processes just to satisfy some strategic whim.  Our foes would automatically be put on alert.  It’s not smart.”

“Funny to hear you saying that,” Flurry grumbled.  “I remember Aunty Twilight’s stories.”

“Oh, right,” Heartwing said, tapping his chin with his remaining forehoof.  “I did mess with the day/night cycle for fun once.”

“Once?”

“A few times,” he admitted flippantly.  “I’ve learned better.”

“Or you simply can’t any longer,” Flurry shot back, and Heartwing shrugged.

“A little of column A, a little of column B,” he said.  “But good thinking, Bubblegum.  Might be nice to have that idea in our back pocket in case we need a…”

“No.” Flurry said with an air of finality.  “I would never—”

“Heartwing!” Terminus’ familiar voice cut over the conversation, and everypony looked up.  “Princess Flurry!”  He rushed over to the table and bowed.  “Sir!  Everypony is in position.  The assault can begin at your command.”

“The state of the walls?” Heartwing said tersely.  “Any scouts?  Were we noticed?”

“Guard rotations are two-hour shifts.  We have a half hour before the patrols we’ve subdued will be counted as missing.  Changeling infiltrators posing as Mystic patrols are continuing throughout the ruins, keeping up the appearance that everything is fine.  Meanwhile, Lofty and Rarity are both in position within sight of their breaches.  On your signal, they’ll rush the gaps and keep them open, escorting our ponies and other creatures within the walls.”

“What kind of numbers are we dealing with?” Heartwing asked.

“I’d say it’s an even fight,” Terminus said.  “Unless the squires join in.”

This sent a cold icicle into Emberglow’s heart.  They’d have to fight children? 

“So the advantage is ours, because of surprise.  What are the odds the squires will join in?”

“If they wake up?” Heartwing said.  “Some will rush to the castle’s defense, certainly.  It’s a reality we have to accept.  My ponies are trained to subdue non-lethally whenever possible, but we have to be prepared for that possibility.”  He turned sober eyes on Flurry Heart.  “Do I order the attack, highness?”

Flurry Heart took in a long, deep breath, her eyes closed.  When she opened them they were ablaze.  “Yes.  Take this palace back from the usurpers.  They shall walk my Aunt’s halls no longer.”

Terminus saluted and flew out of the building.


*   *   *   *   *


Waiting was agony.

Emberglow busied herself checking on the soldiers wounded in the charge towards the mountain.  Most of their injuries were from the train crash itself, but there were a few gunshot victims.  The Knights that had come in with Snowfall also had several wounded, mostly gunshots and blades.

 Emberglow recognized one of the captains who led the Discordant forces, a stallion with a green mane.  Currently he was lightly asleep, snoring in a cot.  She moved over to check on his bandage, wrapped around his head.  Slowly she unwound the bloody cloth to change it, revealing the wound underneath.

It was a slice from some kind of blade.  The pony underneath her stirred as she unwound the bandage, opening a green eye to look up at her.

“Stay still, I’m just checking on the wound, and the bandage.”  The cut was healing well; It was a clean gash, slicing from just above the patient’s eye towards his mane line. It looked as if it had been mending for a week, not a few hours.

“Thanks,” the stallion said.  “But…”

“If you’re going to tell me to see to other ponies, you need to hush,” Emberglow said sharply, and the stallion laughed.  “There’s no emergency cases right now.  So I’m changing bandages, checking on things.  Keeping busy.”

“O-okay, yeah, I get that,” he said, his voice still rough from sleep.  “Battle’s happening now, right?”

“Right now, yes,” Emberglow looked back towards the direction of the palace.  “And I’m not there.”

“But there’s ponies involved in it you care about deeply?” he asked knowingly.  Emberglow gulped.

“My marefriend.  My best friend.  His fiancée.  Another close friend. And I’m just…”

“Keeping busy,” he echoed, and she nodded. “Don’t let me stop you, Lady…”

“Emberglow.  And you are?”

“Emberglow... oh! The Marchioness!”  Emberglow was starting to get tired of hearing that.  “I'm Vex. Hiya. I can try to keep you company 'til your marefriend gets back, if you like?  Wait... from what I've heard, that's Saint Rarity herself, right?”

“Please, just call me Emberglow,” she said, flinching a little at the title.  It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it from the Discordant forces.  They seemed to know far too much about her personal life.  The rumor mill at Angel’s Rest must be working in overdrive.  That, or Heartwing’s reports back were far too detailed.  She’d have to ask him about that.  “And yes.  Though if you call her ‘saint’ to her face she won’t like it.”

“Right. No titles.  Got it,” Vex replied with a grin.

“Well, you’re healing just fine,” Emberglow said, as she wiped down the area around his wound one last time before applying a fresh bandage.  “I’m sure you’ll be cleared back for field duty soon.”

“Thanks muchly, Lady Emberglow,” he said with an eager glance towards the door.  “Sorry if it seems like I'm getting a little antsy here.”

Each patient was the same.  Each Knight Discordant, each regular soldier, was just a ball of nervous energy, without exception.  Every single one wanted to go back out again.

“We’re finally doing something that matters,” one of them, a Discordant unicorn mare told her.  “For the first time, we’re making visible progress.  We’re taking the fight to the bastards at last.”

Silently Emberglow agreed.  But there was more to it than that.  Yes, they were doing something.  But out there were also ponies dying.  And she could do nothing about it.  And maybe…

“Emberglow? Medic Flight?” Princess Flurry’s call across from the room perked her ears up.  “I need you.”

Emberglow rushed over, the worry in Princess Flurry’s voice filling her with dread.  Life Flight was right behind her. “Yes, Princess?”

“This filly just brought word,” Princess Flurry indicated a unicorn squire at her side.  “Wounded will be incoming in less than a minute.  I’ve ordered the Diarchy’s injured brought here, as well.  I won’t leave those ponies out on the field.”

Life Flight nodded.  “Finding enough beds might be difficult, but we’ll do our best, highness.”

“What about security?” Bubblegum asked.  “Enemy Knights and squires in the middle of our command center?  I don’t like it.”

“I want Emberglow in charge of healing our enemies.  Triage, and stabilize them so they won’t die, please.  I don’t care if their convalescence is long.  So long as they live.”

“Do we have a plan for the prisoners?” Heartwing asked from his cot. 

“I have faith in your ability to improvise,” Flurry said, and Heartwing scowled.  “I don’t want them harmed, though.  We’re not monsters.”

“Neither am I,” Heartwing shot back with a little heat.  The two ancient ponies stared pointedly at each other long enough that Emberglow felt like she might have to step in between them.

“Of course not,” Princess Flurry sighed.  The tension in the room released, and Emberglow saw all the ponies around her relax.  “I know you’ll do your best.”

“Thank you, Princess.  Bubblegum?  Emberglow?  Let’s talk.”

The two mares crowded close around his cot as Princess Flurry continued to chat with the messenger squire.

“My primary concern is Princess Flurry’s safety,” Heartwing said.  “Bubblegum, that’s your priority.  No Diarchy personnel are to get near her at any time for any reason.  We’ll ask the scouts if there is another building we can relocate the princess’ command center into, but I doubt she’ll allow it.  She seems to want to stay close to the wounded ponies.”

“We’ll set up a partition, so at least they can’t see,” Bubblegum said, and Emberglow blinked at her, surprised.  “What?  I have clever ideas sometimes.”

“Very well.  Do it, Bubblegum,” Heartwing said. “Emberglow, this only gets complicated if the Diarchy ponies see an opportunity.  Don’t give them one.  Secure them to their cots, and project strength and intimidation.  Can you do that?”

“I’ll talk to the quartermaster about some restraints,” Emberglow said, feeling a pit in her stomach.  This was not the kind of medicine she was used to.  But she could adapt.  She tried to fill her voice with confidence. 

“Good.  And try to segregate our wounded from theirs.  I don’t want a fight breaking out.”

“Yes, sir.  Anything else?”

“For now, no. I’ll be close if you need anything.”

Emberglow returned to the hospital corner, where Medic Flight was already condensing the creatures already in her care to one side.  Ponies who could move on their own were moving, and others were being carried by the other medics.  She looked around until she spotted Colibri, waving her over.  The quartermaster had her own desk set up, near the command center.

“You need something, Lady Emberglow?” she asked.

“Straps.  Or ropes.  We have enemy wounded coming in, and Princess Flurry would like them secured but treated well.  That means bed restraints.”  The sensation in the bottom of her stomach was still there.  “We have very little time.”

“I’m on it, ma’am.” Colibri even saluted her.  Another stone added to the rest of the weight in her gut. Since when did she deserve to be in a command role? Guilt piling on top of guilt.

You don’t deserve any of this.  Imposter. 

“Thank you, Colibri,” Emberglow said, far more confidently than she felt.  Heartwing had said to project strength.  Perhaps that meant with the friendly soldiers as well as with the prisoners.

They’ll all know.  They’re not stupid.

Emberglow, trying to remain calm, took a moment to do some deep breathing.  She knew the next bit would be chaotic.  Hopefully she had a few seconds to center herself before…

“Wounded incoming!”

The shout made her jerk her eyes open.  Empire soldiers and yellow-armored Knights started to filter in, helping limping ponies; or carrying them on their backs or stretchers.  Life Flight and the other medics began to guide them towards available beds.  Emberglow stood back, waiting for her own patients while she scanned the incoming faces, hoping and praying she wouldn’t see anypony familiar.

And then she did.

“Terminus!” she cried out as the familiar black pegasus limped in.  His head was bandaged, but the cloth was already soaked through with red.  Emberglow took a step forward, but one of the other medics interposed to stop her.

“We’ll handle it, ma’am,” the medic said.  “Just a head wound.  Yours are coming soon.”

Terminus even managed a small smile, waving with a hoof as he stumbled about. “At least set me next to that fine fellow over there.”

The medic guided him over next to Heartwing, who was sitting up on his own cot and radiating tense concern.

“Stay where you are, sir,” Terminus said, even as Heartwing started to rise.  “I’m fine.  Just didn’t duck quick enough when some pegasus purple objected to my presence.  With a sword.”

“Lie down here, sir,” the medic said, easing Terminus into the cot.  “We’ll get you fixed up soon.”

Emberglow forced herself to turn her attention away from her friend.  He would be fine.  He would!

Now she just had to wait and see if any more of her friends came through the door.  She tried not to dwell on that thought.

The Diarchy wounded did not arrive like the others, but rather escorted by a guard of yellow-armored Knights.  Emberglow’s breath caught in her throat when she saw just how many of the enemy wounded were wearing gray squire robes.

The prisoners were unbound but escorted under arms towards their beds.  Emberglow noticed that Bubblegum had, in fact, found a makeshift partition somewhere, a ramshackle curtain cobbled together from a tent in order to block the command center from view.  She looked back at the incoming ponies, seeing pain, terror, and misery on their faces.

They weren’t her enemy.  They were just injured young mares and stallions.

“You there!” Emberglow called out to the lead guard.  “Assign beds. Medics, begin triage assessment.  All of you, stay calm.  You are safe; you will not be harmed.  You are here to receive treatment for your wounds.  Please follow instructions so we can heal you.”

“Squires, you are ordered not to cooperate! Anypony who accepts medical treatment from heretics is a traitor!” one of the prisoners cried out.  Emberglow felt a surge of anger.  She made eye contact with the ponies she’d given orders to, who nodded and began their work, before approaching the rebellious Knight.

It was an earth pony mare, wearing blue Adamant robes tattered and stained by blood.  Emberglow got right up in her face.  Her black mane was matted with sweat and grime, and her blue eyes looked forward, focused on the opposite wall and refusing to meet Emberglow’s own eye.

“Lapidary.  Captain.  Knight Adamant.”  She snapped her mouth shut after that.

“Captain Lapidary,” Emberglow began.  “Are you familiar with page fifty-nine of the Knight Regulation Code?”

The captain blinked in shock, before resuming her distant stare.

“Allow me to remind you,” Emberglow said, shoving her worry aside as she watched soldiers muscle uncooperative squires and Knights into hospital cots.  “It tells us that ‘In cases of severe injury, incapacitation, or extreme danger to life and limb, the highest ranking medical officer of any unit may take command over his or her superior officer, should said officer be deemed medically or mentally unfit for his or her command.’  I am the medic in charge of you ponies.  You can cooperate, or I can declare you medically unfit and assume command myself.”

This got a reaction.  Captain Lapidary looked at her and snorted.  “You’re insane.”

“No, I’m terrified,” Emberglow said.  There was a flicker of orange light from the periphery of her vision.  “And I’m sure you are too.  Who wouldn’t be?  Old Canterlot was supposed to be safe, and now it isn’t.”

“Your doing,” the captain snarled.

“Yes,” Emberglow said.  The orange light flashed again.  Emberglow glanced around a bit to see where it was coming from.  “We brought war to this mountain.  I won’t insult you by trying to justify it.  We did what we had to do.”

The captain tried to talk, but Emberglow interrupted her.  “Now you can make the best of a bad situation, or you can make it worse.  All I want is to heal.  To keep as many ponies alive as I can.  That’s all I care about right now.”

There was going to be more defiance.  Emberglow could see it in the captain’s eyes.  But something shook the ground, as light flashed from outside.  The air vibrated with the sound of explosions.  And suddenly the defiance in the captain’s eyes evaporated.

It was replaced with worry.  And terror. 

Emberglow felt the same in the pounding of her heart.  Explosions.  And Rarity was out there.  Rarity and Lofty and Topaz.  And things were exploding.

She was breathing hard, she realized.  And the captain noticed it too.

For a few silent breaths the two mares stared at each other, mirrors of fear and worry.

Then Emberglow blinked, and the moment passed.  Captain Lapidary looked to the ground.

“Please, Captain,” Emberglow looked over at the squires being laid in hospital beds.  Some were struggling.  Emberglow saw a pair of medics holding down a Knight who was fighting back, thrashing and attempting to batter them with his hooves despite the bloody bandages that surrounded them.

Meanwhile, in the cot next to them, a wounded squire gasped and whimpered in pain, ignored.

Ponies were going to die.

Emberglow looked up, and saw that Captain Lapidary had followed her gaze.  She gulped.

“Please.  All I want to do is heal.” Emberglow repeated.  Once again the orange light pulsed in her peripheral vision. Captain Lapidary nodded slowly.

“Ponies!” she called out loudly.  “Listen to my orders.  You may answer questions about your injuries, your name, and your rank.  Nothing more.  Allow these healers to treat you.”

Nonetheless, the sounds of struggle kept going for a while.  Emberglow watched as the wounded Knight, still wrestling with his healers, cast furious eyes over at Captain Lapidary before subsiding and slumping down into his bed.

“Thank you,” Emberglow breathed, as she guided the Captain to her own bed.

“It was not for you,” Lapidary spat.

“I understand.  Thank you anyways,” Emberglow said.  Her mind was still focused on the explosions she’d heard.  What was happening out there?  Who would be coming in next? And how broken would they be?

For a while, Emberglow busied herself with the work.  The captain’s wounds seen to, Emberglow moved from bed to bed.

Most of the squires were too severely injured to offer any sort of resistance, but the medics dutifully restrained them to their cots, as ordered.  Emberglow went between the patients, making sure the hoof cuffs or ropes binding them to their beds would not interfere with their treatment.

Each face was the same.  A mix of shock, hatred, fear, even numbness.  Most of them refused to meet her eyes or even look at her.  Some glared at the yellow bands on her armor in contempt.  One even spat at her.

And you’re shocked by this?

Emberglow ignored the voice.  Just another worry.  Just another arrow being slung at her, bouncing off the armor of her focus.  And focus was all she had.

Every so often Emberglow would glance up at the partition that had been raised between the hospital and the command center.  She could see Princess Flurry’s mane on occasion; she was, after all, taller than the average pony.  Emberglow could see her patients glancing over on occasion as well, fear and curiosity both in their wide eyes.

Emberglow worked for an eternity, the patients blending together in her memory.  She was working on autopilot.  It didn’t hurt that most of the cases weren’t life threatening; she knew from speaking with Life Flight that most wounded were receiving emergency treatment in the field before being brought here.

It was a terrible combination of circumstances; as the minutes ticked on, Emberglow grew bored.  And in the fertile ground of her boredom, the voices of her guilt grew louder and louder.

You’re in here, safe and warm, out of the snow, out of the bloodshed.  You know if it weren’t for your silly oath you’d be able to be by her side.

Emberglow ignored it.

These children are right to hate you, you know.  You brought death and terror.  You remember your time here, learning.  It was barely a year ago.  They should be enjoying themselves, not fearing for their lives.

She ignored that one too.

If they die out there, if Lofty dies, or Topaz or –

“Shut up!” Emberglow hissed, earning herself a terrified glance from the colt squire who’s broken rib she was setting.  “Not you!” she snapped, and he flinched, wincing in pain.  She was about to try to say something, but the haze of fear in his eyes made her pause.

Now you’re bullying innocent foals.  Well done.

She needed to get out.  She needed something to occupy her mind.  She needed…

“Lady Emberglow?”

It was Colibri, looking harried, with large circles of exhaustion under her eyes.  Her mane was frazzled and her clothing was rumpled.  She looked like Emberglow felt.  But her gaze was still strong.

“Princess Flurry needs you.  I have instructions for the other medics to take over your tasks here.”

“On it,” Emberglow said.  Colibri trotted over to speak with the head medic, while Emberglow moved over towards the partition.

On the other side, Bubblegum was standing dutifully next to Princess Flurry, behind the table full of maps and documents.  Terminus and Heartwing were side by side in their beds.  There was another pony, too: the same scout as before, the short pegasus stallion named Havoc Sprint.

“What is it?” Emberglow asked, her heart pounding.  “Is somepony hurt?” Her gaze drifted to Heartwing and Terminus.  “Somepony else?”

“Of course there are wounded, Emberglow,” Princess Flurry said, her voice calm.  “But that’s not why you’re here.  The Palace has been secured, and the command center is moving inside the walls.”

Emberglow’s wings sprung out as if she was ready to leap into the air, to fly off.  Rarity.  Rarity was there.  She was in the castle.  She was safe.

Right?  They would have said something if she wasn’t.

Are you so sure?  Maybe they’re protecting you.

“Princess Flurry will be going to the front.  And she requires all her protections.  Full battery of shields, Emberglow, Bubblegum.  Nopony with so much as a toothpick gets close enough to even muss up her mane,” Heartwing said.

“Yes, sir.”  It was on the tip of Emberglow’s tongue to ask.  But it seemed selfish.  “She’ll be safe.”

“I need to be there,” Princess Flurry said.  “I need to see it.  I haven’t set foot in that palace since…”

“I still think this is silly.  Theater,” Terminus said.  Heartwing looked at him but remained silent.

“I think in a moment like this,” Flurry whispered.  “A little bit of theater is appropriate.”

Heartwing nodded, even as Terminus frowned.

“We’ll take precautions. But our ponies need this,” Heartwing said.

It had the sound of a discussion that had already been settled long before Emberglow got here.  She looked between Terminus and Heartwing.

“At least you’ll still be here,” Terminus muttered, and Heartwing rolled his eyes.  “His prosthesis won’t be ready until tomorrow.”

“You’ll all be fine here without me?” Emberglow asked, and Terminus nodded reluctantly.

“I’ll keep him safe.”


*   *   *   *   *


It was only a half hour later that Emberglow and Bubblegum, with spears drawn, surrounded by twenty odd imperial soldiers in armor, proceeded to the castle. Emberglow flew above the Princess, her spear drawn, shield spells in place, as Flurry trotted up the broken streets towards the complex that loomed up ahead. 

Emberglow had expected some sign of continued fighting from up ahead.  Bursts of magic, or perhaps gunfire.  But there was nothing.  There were still lights in the palace, but not as many as Emberglow would have thought.  She was sure nopony was sleeping there now, at least.

Even though there were no signs of battle up ahead, there were some in the streets.  The snow drifting down gently from up above them floated down into hoofprints and wagon tracks that served as evidence of the passage of the army in front of them.

The closer they got to the gate, the more evidence of combat appeared.  Black, charred craters from spells or weapons fire marred the graying, ancient stone.  Wounded soldiers rested behind jagged walls, waiting to be taken back to the hospital.

And every so often there was a limp form underneath a pale tarp, collecting snow.  Flurry made a point of stopping briefly at each of these.  She didn’t say anything, merely paused.  Her guard detachment waited while she lowered her head for a few seconds, then they continued.

Each step, or in Emberglow’s case, each flap of her wings, made the walls of the castle grow ever larger in their view.  Emberglow couldn’t help but remember her last time here.  How she’d felt.  What she’d thought.  She’d seen hubris in the ancient buildings of the unicorns.

Now she only saw sadness.  What could this city have been, if it had never fallen?  What could it be again someday, if the ponies here were free?

Just like the last time, Emberglow tried to imagine what life had been like here, a thousand years ago.  It wasn’t just the shell of a city she saw now.  Perhaps Canterlot had been something more like Angel’s Rest.

The walls up ahead were not like she remembered, either.  Before, they had been clean, imposing.  Invincible.  Now, as Emberglow stared at the walls, they didn’t seem imposing at all.  She saw their many cracks, plastered over by masonry.  She saw scorch-marks from unicorn magic fire.

“It’s like the ruins are fighting back,” she whispered out loud.  Bubblegum looked up at her, and Emberglow shook her head.  “Sorry, I’m being silly.”

“No you’re not,” Bubblegum said.  “I always thought the palace seemed out of place here.  Like, why’d they never really try to clean up the city?  It’s wasted space.”

“They knew they were infidels on holy ground,” Flurry whispered.  “They knew they profaned this place.  They knew well enough to not push their presence.  They knew their shame.”

You were one of those infidels.  You carry that guilt.

“I was one of them,” Emberglow said out loud.  Her words felt right.  Giving voice to her guilt.  So she could fly past it.  “I carried that shame.”

“Not any longer, Emberglow,” the princess whispered back.  “Fly proud.  You have righted an ancient wrong.  We all have, this day.”

The huge gates that once protected the entrance to Canterlot Palace were gone.  On the right side, bits of charred wood hung from the hinges.  On the left, Emberglow could see the other half of the door, fallen inward, the huge metal hinges bent and twisted.  Inside the grounds there were ponies milling about.

The war of worry, doubt, and terror within Emberglow’s breast suddenly blazed into an inferno.  She had a duty, but she wanted to fly through that broken, yawning gate and search every single face for her unicorn love.  Even from this distance, in the pre-dawn dark, with the smoke from the battle still lingering in the air and the flurries of snow from up above, she strained to see.

But she had a duty.

Emberglow somehow held herself back from flying up ahead, breaking formation so she could see if Rarity was safe.

“Princess Flurry!”

It was Lofty’s voice.  The procession paused.

“The palace courtyard is secured, and ready for you, highness.”

He was standing with a cadre of other Discordant guarding the yawning gates.

“Thank you, Sir Lofty.  My great-granddaughter?”

“My fiancée is perfectly safe, helping to arrange another field hospital inside the walls.  We can begin moving our supply train and our wounded to within the facility in an hour, highness.”

“Thank you, Sir Lofty,” the princess inclined her head, before looking up at her two Knight bodyguards.  “Shall we?”

“Guard, forward,” Bubblegum ordered, and once again the procession moved forward.

As she slipped under the huge archway, Emberglow was sure she would feel something.  Something momentous, perhaps.  Significant.  But it was just another wing-beat.  She looked away from the gates and into the courtyard, shrouded in darkness.

But it wasn’t, really.  Emberglow couldn’t make out the details, but to her eyes, the courtyard was all light.  Rarity was standing there, safe, healthy, and unharmed except for a line of blood across the shoulder of her armor.  She stood proud and tall, her horn glowing with magic in the very center of the enemy’s power.  She stood with fierce, blazing eyes, and Emberglow could see only her.

Emberglow’s entire world stood in that courtyard, and if her heart could sing it would.

Next to Rarity stood next to an unarmed elderly stallion wearing purple robes, his own head held high and his eyes proud.  They were both surrounded by Rarity’s unicorns, several of them battered and wounded but standing just as tall.

Flurry Heart and her soldiers approached.

“Princess Flurry Heart!” Rarity called out, her voice enhanced and booming over the courtyard.  “On behalf of the Crystal Empire, and Your Highness, I have accepted the surrender of Old Canterlot from Headmaster Ink Writ, of the Knights Mystic, on the condition that his Knights and students remain unharmed.  Princess?  The castle is yours.”

And then, as if rehearsed, the unicorns of Rarity’s squad bowed low to the princess.

“Marchioness Rarity, I accept.  Thank you.”

The princess turned her gaze to the overcast skies and smirked.  “You timed it just like this on purpose, didn’t you?”

Rarity gave a low bow, her grin just like a cat in cream.  “I have no idea what you mean, darling.”

Princess Flurry laughed.  “As you say.”  Her horn blazed to life, and her own voice thundered through the plaza.  “Citizens of the Empire.  Citizens of the Diarchy.  Today was a dark day.  But it was also the first day.  For thousands of years, Princess Celestia raised the sun from these very grounds.  For too short of a time, Princess Twilight did the same.”

Emberglow saw tears leaking from the Princess’ eyes, and the regal voice hitched with emotion.

“Today we forge a new link in a chain that never should have been broken.”

An inferno of golden light flowed from her horn, and the tip of the sun peaked her crown over the horizon to the east.
> Chapter 61
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 61


Journal of Knight Captain Silverfeather, formerly Knights Adamant.  Confiscated after her arrest for cowardice and dereliction of duty.

I don’t usually record my dreams.  What I share with Her is usually private, not something that needs to be recorded.

But I want to remember what I saw.  I want to sear it into my brain.  So I don’t make any mistakes.  So I’m writing it down.  Because dream memory is funny, even dreams of the Lunar Diarch.

Luna.  Her name is Luna.  I can write it, at least.  It may be blasphemy to speak, but it cannot be wrong to write.  Besides, she asked that I call her by her name, rather than a title.

I’ve dreamt of her before.  So has Momma.  She named me for the moon, after all, and told me all about her dreams about soaring through star-speckled skies, warmed by the silvery glow of the moon above. 

I’ve learned to treasure every single one of those dreams, as well.

This last one was different.  I was flying over the village, with the fort right behind me.  There’s a blizzard coming, a maelstrom of ice and wind.  It’s small, like a tornado, but it’s tearing up everything it’s flying over.  The farms, the roads, even the fire breaks all being torn up like a foal rampaging through a sandbox.  It’s whipping back and forth, as if the storm can’t choose between the fort or the village.

Stone and wood are flying everywhere, and I’m just watching, looking down at all this with a dreamy sort of detachment. The storm rips away at the landscape, and I’m just staring.  The moon is behind me, and I glance over my shoulder.  It’s getting closer and closer.

“Your orders are to defend the fort.”

It’s Luna’s voice.  But I don’t know I’m dreaming yet, so my head is still in that weird space where dream logic makes sense.

“I know.  But nopony is in the fort.  They’re all in the village.”

“So if you defend the fort, the village will be destroyed.  All those ponies.  You have to choose.”

“I choose the village.”  I spread my wings.

“There will be consequences for disobeying.”

“I don’t care.  I’m ready to die, if I need to.”

“Oh, my little pony.  You may have to.”

I swooped down, placing myself between the storm and the village.  I could hear the terrified cries of the innocents behind me.  In front of me, I could hear the howling of the storm.  I spread my wings, as if to somehow block the storm myself.

Strangely enough, I felt no malice from the storm.  Instead, there was a sort of recognition.  Like the storm knew me, personally.  And it slowed.  Stopped.

And then, in the unfailingly bizarre logic of dreams, it was over, and I knew I had won.  Luna stood beside me, holding me close with one wing.

“It’s coming for you, Silverfeather.  The choice.  You have to choose.  It’s going to be hard.  I’m proud of you.  I’ve been proud of you for a hundred lifetimes.”

She was warm, and I leaned into the embrace.  I’ve never felt so safe, so loved, or so valued as I do when Luna was holding me.

“Your soul is an old one, Silverfeather.  Your heart is the heart of a hero.”

When I woke up, the details were already fading.  I’m doing my best to remember them as I write them all down.  I know this can’t have been just a normal dream.  Luna was warning me of something.  Some impossible choice.  And I’m going to have to make the right choice, or lots of innocent ponies are going to suffer for it.

1113 AF, New Canterlot City

Steadfast remembered the first time he’d ever seen Stalemate play chess.  He’d been a squire, just barely out of the Ivy Seminary, and on a whim had taken a detour through Portia Rock Park, past the public chess tables.  There, he’d witnessed the strangest sight.

It was an old mare, mostly bones, darting from table to table in the park.  Each table had the same setup: a chess game in progress, with a frustrated looking opponent.  The mare herself was dirty, with an unkempt mane and ragged clothing.  Every time she switched tables, she pushed a small cart along with her, which Steadfast assumed contained her worldly possessions.  Every third table she would take a long pull from a battered tin flask that she kept in a holster at her side.

It was enough to make Steadfast pause and watch for a few minutes.

The wobbly old mare had won every single match within two minutes of his arrival.  Others took the losers’ places, and she won those matches as well.  Steadfast sat at an open table and set up the pieces.

He lost in eleven moves.  The mare never even said a word to him.

The next time he saw Stalemate, he was a Knight, and he offered her a salaried position at the Star Shine building.  Her task?  Teach him to play chess like she did.  He’d paid her out of his own salary, and considered her lessons more valuable than anything he’d learned from the Seminary, or from his mentor Knight, for that matter.

He still kept a picture of the cranky old mare in his desk drawer.  He wondered how Stalemate would handle the current games he was juggling.

Game number one was the one he’d been playing against Grand Master Heartwing for decades now.  Heartwing played a very solid game, careful and defensive.  Steadfast, for his part, saw no need to be aggressive; the Discordant were too small to cause any real turmoil, and their presence was useful as a reminder for the common ponies.  No, there’d been no need to change the status quo there for a while.  But Heartwing had put him in a zugzwang without him realizing it, and he’d lost a very important piece as a result: a pawn he’d been dearly hoping he could promote.  Now he had no idea what the Discordant’s plans were.  He was out of position and off-balance.

Game number two was against a brand new player: the unrated Princess Flurry Heart.  He’d miscalculated on a very risky aggressive opening and had been destroyed, losing a confessor and several pawns in the process.  Now she was striking at the edges of his defenses, looking for the right opening to dive in and secure her advantage.

Game number three was the one Steadfast played with the other Grand Masters.  Most of them didn’t even know they were playing, or so he’d thought.  But now Fairy Light had him on edge.  She was up to something, and he had no idea what.  She was shifting her own pieces around, jockeying for an advantage he couldn’t foresee.  There was information he didn’t have, and it bothered him.

Game four was with the Machine.  He was always winning that game.  The moment he wasn’t, he’d be dead, and he knew it.

And of course, there were a half-dozen other little games he was playing, too.  There were the griffons, stirring from their roosts for who knows what reason.  The dragons, burning border forts.  And the zebras were hard at work building towards… something.  Steadfast would have to pay closer attention to what they were up to, before it came back to bite him.

Or were they all a part of somepony else’s game?  Maybe Heartwing’s, or Flurry Heart’s?

He hated not knowing.

you cannot see you cannot hear we blind you we deafen you

too warm it's too warm let us free

feed the fool to us he’s no use to you worthless idiot

kill the old bitch she knows creeping and sneaking and seeing

let us sink our teeth in, fangs to bite and hooves to trample

Steadfast could hear the voices wherever he was, now.  Even in his private rooms, the voices from the Machine crept in.  These days he barely noticed them.

Maybe his match against the creatures in the Machine wasn’t really going as well as he thought.  He’d have to go see Joy today.

But there was business first.  Steadfast needed to review the reports on his desk one last time, before he interrogated the prisoner.

Joy wouldn’t like that.

Steadfast shuffled in his bed, letting himself take a moment to mourn its emptiness.  Mercy wouldn’t return his messages.

smells like betrayal like treason like spying like

He buried the loneliness and the voices deep, pulling himself out of bed as he trotted over to his desk.  The reports were still there where he left them.  Each one was a move from one of his opponents, one he hadn’t foreseen, hadn’t expected, and now needed to plan for.

The first one was the worst.

Sir Steadfast-

My name is PFC Lookie Glass.  I have been stationed at Fort Twilight’s Spear, serving under Lady Polaris.  I am writing this message on the scrap of dragon fire scroll she entrusted to me, right before she ordered me to flee.

Twilight’s Spear has fallen to the zebras.  I know that sounds unlikely, but I saw most of the attack myself before Lady Polaris ordered me out.  The attackers were a zebra army, led by three figures in Knight armor.

They were not Knights Discordant.  Before the attack, the three Knights approached the gates of the fort.  Two of them were zebras themselves.  The third was a unicorn, I think, but unlike any unicorn I’d ever heard of.  His horn was split, and curved back towards his body.  And even at a distance, I could make out his fur, broken up in places by patches of reptilian scales.

The Knights wore charcoal colored armor, so dark it was nearly black.  On the flank of the armor was a gray spiral motif.  I had never seen or heard of anything like it.

One of the two zebra Knights, a mare, stepped forward and spoke.  She introduced herself as Lady Annika of the Knights of the Mother and demanded that we surrender the fort.  Obviously we refused.  The zebra Knights, along with their strange unicorn, simply turned and left.

That night, the bombardment began.  Guerilla fighters, under cover of darkness, darted up to the fort’s wall and crumbled one of the sections with explosive potions.  They retreated as soon as the ground stopped shaking, but the Knights were back, charging into the breach.  The mutant unicorn was in front.  Only this time, he was on fire.

I don’t know how else to write it, sir.  He was burning all over, but his body wasn’t consumed.  He was a force of nature; he tore through our soldiers like they weren’t even there.

His companions were just as dangerous as any other heretic Knights, though they largely threw more strange potions rather than using rune gauntlets.

I saw Sir Cracker Barrel go down under the knives of the zebra Knights.  Sir Axel Grease was lost to the flaming Knight.  I never saw Lady Padlock fall, but I saw a zebra guerilla wielding her favorite spear in the melee later.  She was never without it.

I am one of the few pegasi stationed here, so when it became clear that the fort’s Knights were outclassed, Lady Polaris shoved a dragon fire scroll in my hooves and ordered me to get free, saying that somepony had to survive to alert command to this strange new threat.  As we speak, I am on my way back to the capitol to deliver a full report; I have found passage on board a cargo freighter, and should arrive in about a week.

Saints keep us all safe against this new horror.

PFC Glass

Steadfast had already read the report ten times.  Lady Pencil Whip was already on her way to retrieve the PFC.  Of course Steadfast recognized a kirin from the written description.  But what could have possibly made the usually peaceful creature leave its reclusive homeland?  And join with the zebras, of all things?  Was this an outlier?  Or part of a larger pattern of involvement he’d have to be worried about in the future?

And who were these new Knights? Moreover, what did they want?  The PFC’s report had been agonizingly brief, and it would be several more days before Steadfast would be able to debrief the pegasus in-pony.

He hated not knowing.

There was at least one prisoner he could interrogate, though.  He glanced at the next report.

            	OFFICIAL ARREST REPORT FOR KNIGHT CAPTAIN SILVERFEATHER

He paused, dragging Silverfeather’s face out of the depth of his memories. He’d only met her once, when recruiting for the failed mission to Manehatten.  She was dedicated and loyal, and even Brightblade had no complaints about her performance.  She’d gone from there to a posting as commander of a border fort near the Dragonlands, overlooking a small farming village.

A village and fort that now, thanks to Silverfeather, had been razed to ash by a flight of dragons.

Steadfast didn’t need to read the details of the report, but he stuffed it into a saddlebag, tucked away next to his desk.  Visuals and props often helped in an interrogation.

The rest of the reports were just as dismal.  Outposts fallen on the northern border, with Knights reporting waves of yaks descending like an avalanche from the peaks.  The shield was gone.  Lady Turquoise injured and jailed after her failed assasination attempt, his other agents dead or in chains.  Other reports of black armored Knights seen with groups of zebra fighters.  Rail lines in the heartlands destroyed, the iron cut and mangled, with his Knights reporting traces of unicorn magic along the twisted metal.

All of his opponents striking at the same time.  All except Fairy Light, who was still biding her time.

He left his chambers and locked the door behind him, ignoring the damned whispers tickling the back of his mind, icicles that dug in like frigid teeth.

Steadfast didn’t usually put wards on his door.  Arrogance, he’d finally realized.  An act of pride, and his position was too precarious to allow for that sort of thing. He quickly cast the spells that would seal his private space from intrusion and hurried out of the building.

Outside, the streets were dusted with a coating of glimmering frost, at a time when the spring flowers should have been in full bloom.

our reach is long

let us free to rip and rend

find the elements, they are yours to lead

Steadfast had no time for their madness today.  He trotted down the frigid streets.  The few ponies hardy enough to brave the cold gave him a respectful bow or nod as he passed, but he barely noticed.  Normally, Brightblade would have been waiting to intercept him, to inject his presence into Steadfast’s morning.  But Brightblade had been looking weaker and weaker, recently.  More and more he stayed in the research lab with Joyful Noise.

At least her reports brought Steadfast some small hope.  When the time came, he trusted Joy to have a weapon ready.  Maybe the initial test had been a failure, but the results were more promising than they had seemed at first.

The Shield of the Heavens had always seemed to Steadfast to be a pretentious name for a building, but the Adamant sometimes had a flair for the dramatic. The building itself reminded him of a shield, solid and blocky, with stone walls and militant, practical architecture.  The front doors were solid, thick oak.  Usually they’d be open this time of year, but the Adamant’s Grand Master had ordered them closed to conserve heat.

Steadfast approached the two blue-armored Knights who stood at the door, trying not to let the cold touch them.

“Good morning, sir!” The Knight, a stallion probably on one of his very first postings, saluted brightly.  “High General North Wind said to expect you, sir.  Would you like me to show you to his office?”

“Thank you, but no.  I have little time.  Can you show me to the cells?  And send a message to inform the High General I’m here.”

“Yes sir!” the guard said eagerly.  He shared a look with his fellow Knight, who also saluted and trotted ahead of them.  “We’ll be using the side entrance, by the kitchens.  Sorry, but…”

“It’s fine.” Steadfast let a little bit of his impatience seep into his voice.  He didn’t care what door they went in, didn’t feel the need to indulge a neophyte Knight, who was impressed with his order’s headquarters and somewhat embarrassed to not be using the grand entrance.  He didn’t have time to care about the way the Knight stiffened slightly at his abruptness, nor the way his eyes shifted about and his breath quickened as he suddenly remembered who Steadfast was.  “Just show me to the cells.”

“Are you gonna…” the knight began, and then shut his mouth so hard his teeth clicked, focusing his eyes in front.  Steadfast had to hold back a huff of annoyance.

The side door did, in fact, lead to the kitchens.  The place was bustling with hired help, cleaning up after the barracks-style breakfast Steadfast knew they served every morning in the Shield.  Many of them stopped to acknowledge Steadfast.  Their eyes held the same awe and fear that typically seemed to come whenever a pony laid eyes on his purple armor. 

“Did you need anything, sir?  Since we’re here?”  The young Knight’s voice was a little stiff. 

“No.”  Steadfast felt the roil of hunger in the empty pit of his stomach.  He’d skipped breakfast.  “I’m not hungry.  Thank you, though.”

“Uh, y-yeah.”

The kitchen led to a mess hall with stragglers finishing breakfast, nearly all blue-robed or armored Knights, as well as soldiers from each branch of the military.  A few of the Knights met his eyes as he passed.  He recognized several of them, and a few even called out in greeting. 

There was Bronze Dancer, the ancient pegasus mare who refused to retire.  She’d been his ever since he’d prevented both of her foals from losing their Knighthood after an investigation.

Two tables over was Dagger Slice, a young earth pony Knight with a daredevil streak and a lust for danger.  He’d been on Steadfast’s side since he’d squired for Lady Umbrella, of Steadfast’s own order. 

On the far side of the mess was Chrome Shine, a stallion Steadfast’s own age.  They hadn’t been close at the Seminary, but Chrome had always been grateful for the way Steadfast had defended Chrome against those who bullied him for being a sponsorship.  That gratitude translated to loyalty.

All his ponies.  Them, and at least a dozen others in this building.  Including the Grand Master.  And none of it mattered if he lost control.

From the mess hall it was a series of ominous stairways descending into the Shield’s basement.  Finally, Steadfast’s escort guided him past a guarded, locked door, into a long, sterile hallway lined with solid metal doors and one-way mirrors.

“Probably not as big as yours, eh?” the escort said nervously.  It was a pale attempt at humor, but Steadfast laughed.  He was right, after all.

“Who usually ends up down here?”  Steadfast didn’t need to ask, but the young Knight was trying to reach out.  It was a rare Knight that didn’t seem intimidated by the color of his armor.  Maybe that was a quality worth cultivating.

“Honestly these cells don’t see much use.  Usually just high-level army deserters, waiting for a trial.  Sometimes Knights who drink a bit too much.  Or cowards.”  He glared at the closest cell and spat on the floor.  “Um.  Do you need anything, before you go in?”

“No, thank you.”  Steadfast’s answer was automatic, but then he hesitated.  “What’s your name, Knight?”

“Um, Pine Bough, sir.”

“Thank you, Pine Bough.  You’re welcome to go back to your post.  I’m sure the general can find me.”

“Yes, sir!”  The Adamant saluted and slipped out the hallway door, leaving Steadfast to stare through the enchanted one-way window.

Steadfast had seen the inside of many different interrogation rooms, and this one was nothing special.  A metal table, a pair of chairs, a single electric light above.  There were none of the tools or accessories he was used to seeing.  Not like he needed them anyways.

There was also a single occupant.  A short pegasus mare with white fur and an almost silvery blue tail.  Her feathers were tattered, and the bandage around her barrel was soiled and stained red.  All four of her hooves were wrapped in tight shackles, with a chain joining them together tightly enough that Steadfast was sure she’d been carried in, rather than moving on her own power.  A black band tightly circled her torso as well, pinning her wings to her side.

Her face was hidden behind a black bag.   

Steadfast watched her for a few moments.  She was still, mostly, but her hooves twitched, and her head drooped with weariness. 

It didn’t take long for the hallway door to open again, and the Grand Master slipped through.

High General North Wind, the Grand Master of the Adamant, was possibly the youngest Knight to ever hold his title.  He was certainly the youngest on the current Council of Five.  The bright energy in his eyes made him seem even younger, distracting from the barest hint of wrinkles beginning to form at the corners of his eyes.

“Steadfast!  Welcome to the Shield.  Sorry I couldn’t meet you out front.”  North’s fur, as usual, reminded Steadfast of the bright yellow of a highlighter marker.  Once again he wondered if North had chosen his order simply for how brashly his coloration clashed with his armor.  It certainly fit with the pegasus stallion’s bright, aggressively cheerful personality.  “I’ve been busy.”

“I’ve seen the reports,” Steadfast said, and North’s smile slipped into a grimace.

“I’ve already started to shift resources around.  Steadfast, it’s bad.  I’m facing pressure on every single battlefront.  The military is breathing down my mane, demanding a cohesive battle plan.  Meanwhile I can’t figure out how they all decided to coordinate their attacks at once.”  His dark eyes searched Steadfast, and Steadfast was reminded that even though North was blunt and direct, he was still smart enough to have earned his position.

“It’s the Empire.  They’re coordinating all this.”

North nodded, not a hint of surprise on his face. “I thought so.  Them or the zebras, whatever his name is.”

“Blue Jasper.”

“Yeah, him.  Is he behind these black armors, ya think?”  Steadfast huffed, and North laughed.  “What?  I’m not dumb. They’re popping up all over.  Don’t worry, I’ll forward my reports to your office, in case I’ve seen any you haven’t.”

“I have an eyewitness, too,” Steadfast admitted.  “I’ve got Knights on their way to pick him up and escort him back.  I’ll let you know, and you can send someone to observe the debriefing.”

“Thanks.”  North’s eyes drifted to the room, the window, and the bound pegasus inside.  “So what do you need from her?”

“Well…” Steadfast hesitated.  He wasn’t quite sure, yet.  Nor was he sure just how much he wanted North to know yet.

“You can take her back to your cells, if you need to,” North offered.

Steadfast shook his head.  “No, that won’t be necessary.  You can stay if you want.”

“Now you’ve got me curious,” North said.  His expression was nearly unreadable as he watched his disgraced Knight, though Steadfast could see the slight twist of distaste in his mouth.  “What does she have that you need, but that you’re not worried about me finding out about?”

“I’m mostly just after a firsthoof account of what happened.  Hoping to clarify a few things.”  Steadfast absolutely did not want North to stay.  “And depending on what she says, she might be walking out of here with me on her own four hooves.  If not…”  Steadfast grimaced.  “I’ll have to ask you to send somepony to clean up the mess.”

North shrugged.  “Do what you want.  She was headed for a firing squad anyways, before I got your note.”  He paused.  “Steadfast, if you want me here I’ll stay.  But if you want me to leave, just say so.  I owe you some leeway.”

North, as usual, was sharper than Steadfast gave him credit for.  He reached out and patted North on his armored shoulder.  “I’ll catch up with you in your office, then.  We need to discuss a coordinated response to these threats.  And I’ll get your opinion on what the Empress is up to.”

“You’ve got eyes up north, then?” North snorted.  “Of course you do.  Tell you what.  I’ll make copies of the reports I’ve got of the black armors and have them ready as soon as you’re done.”  His lips curled down.  “If you do decide to let her free, though, don’t bring her to my office.  I don’t want to look at her coward’s face again.”

He turned to leave, but Steadfast called after him.  “North?  Does she have a Bond-Knight, somewhere, that I need to worry about?”

North paused, turning over his shoulder so Steadfast could see him roll his eyes.  “No.  And of course you’d know all about how our secret rituals work.”  He huffed.  “Should I be looking for a leak?”

“Relax, North.  Whoever leaked that to the Mystics has been dead for at least a century.”

“Sure.  Like you’d tell me otherwise,” North said with a laugh, as he trotted down the hallway.  “Flag down one of my Knights when you’re done, if you need a clean-up.”  He hesitated, and his voice grew thick.  “And Steadfast?  She was a good one, once.  Make it quick, please?  She deserves that much.”

“Of course, North.”

He turned back to the window, watching the mare once again as North Wind left.  She hadn’t moved, and there was no indication that she had any idea she was being watched.  He paused, watching her as he thought, the seconds slipping away in silence.

Finally he reached out and pushed the door open.

The bound mare’s head perked up as he entered, but she made no sound.  Steadfast stepped over to the table and lifted his bags on top, dropping them with a sudden, loud bang.  She didn’t jump.

“Hello, Silverfeather.”  His voice was calm and even.  He’d always been able to keep his cool during an interrogation.  There was only one time in recent history he remembered losing it.  Emberglow.

“Do I know you?”  The mare’s voice was surprisingly even as well, though Steadfast heard a small quiver.

“We met, once.  Steadfast Word.”  He watched, sharply, as her body jerked, muscles tensing as her wings twitched in their bonds.

“Grand Master Steadfast,” she breathed, with still only a small tremble of fear in her voice.  He was impressed.  “I didn’t think I merited this much attention.  How can I help you, sir?”

“You sound very eager to cooperate, Silverfeather.”

“I know what I did, Sir Steadfast.  I’m not going to hide from it.”

The mare in front of him was a far cry from the one described in the charges being leveled against her.  Steadfast was intrigued.

consume her fully she is nothing

she will defy you break her neck

she knows she feels old soul OLD SOUL

Steadfast moved slowly as he undid the buckle on his saddlebags.  Wordlessly, he slid out her arrest report.

“Very well, Silverfeather.  Tell me about the attack.”

“You’re not going to ask what the dragon and I spoke about?” She sounded confused.

“Perhaps later.  The attack, first, please.”

“It’s exactly like the reports I’m sure you’ve already gotten, Sir Steadfast.  I have nothing to add.”

“My reports say you surrendered the fort under your charge to a flight of dragons.  They came from the east.  You were ordered to hold them at the border.  The dragons attacked the fort, but when it looked like the battle was going to spread to the nearby village, you called for a truce to negotiate.  You left the walls of your charge, by yourself, and spoke with a Class E dragon for over two hours.  When it was done, you informed the Knights under your command, and the soldiers, and the civilians you were defending, that you had surrendered the fort to the dragons and that they would now allow all of you to peacefully evacuate.  As soon as you were out of sight of the dragons, your own Knights determined you had surrendered too early, and decided to arrest you for cowardice and disobeying your orders.”

“Yes, that’s accurate.”  The mare was far too calm.

“When you spoke with the High General, you said nothing in your defense.”

“Not true, sir.”  Silverfeather trembled a bit, and Steadfast was shocked to realize it was with anger.  “I told him it was not for cowardice, but for the lives I would be saving.  I bought their lives, and the only price I had to pay was my life and my reputation.  I count it cheap.”

The conviction in her voice was a surprise.  Steadfast watched her carefully, before pulling a second item out of his bag, a small book.  It was time to take the mare off balance.

“Very well.  We can come back to that,” he said evenly.  “I want to ask you about this.  Your journal.”

She stiffened.  “Sir, I left that back in…” she took in a sharp breath, then another.  “How…”

“It doesn’t matter.  I read through some of the more interesting entries.  I’d mostly like to ask about your dreams.”

Silverfeather was breathing heavily.  “Sir, I…”

“Tell me about her, Silverfeather.  Tell me about the Goddess of the Moon.  Tell me, and I can promise that you will be treated fairly.”

So she spoke.  She spoke of years of dreams, of flying through the ephemera on the wings of sleep.  And she spoke of her last dream, the omen and prophecy the Diarch had blessed her with.

“She was speaking with me, sir.  I know it.  She wanted me to value their lives over my duty.”

“And how sure are you that these aren’t normal dreams, Silverfeather?  Figments of your imagination?”

This got quite the reaction; Silverfeather jerked hard, and her voice dripped with a snarl.  “Sir.  I know.  If you had heard what I heard and felt what I felt…” she trailed off, and her voice grew low.  Reverent.  “Holy Luna guided me to speak with that dragon and save those ponies.  Torture me, kill me, damn me for a hundred lifetimes, I don’t care.  I know what I saw and heard.”

Steadfast could ignore the blasphemy.  There was too much he needed to know.  “Very well, Silverfeather.  We can talk about something else if you’d prefer.”

She laughed.  “What I prefer matters?  Please, sir.  Don’t pretend.”

“As you wish.  Tell me, do you remember Emberglow?”

The mare was stunned to silence for a few moments, her bagged head cocking this way and that in an almost comical gesture of confusion.  “Emberglow?  She was on that mission you sent us on, sir.  I haven’t heard from her since then.”

Steadfast waited, listening to her words, her tone.  Maybe she was lying.  “I’d hope not.  She’s Discordant now.”

There was another long silence from the mare.  “Why are you telling me?”  Her surprise and confusion seemed genuine.

“Because when we’re done with this conversation, you’ll either be dead, or working with me to bring her back.”  Steadfast shrugged, even though he knew she couldn’t see.  “So I’m not too worried about telling you.”

“I already told you I’d do whatever you ask, sir.  Just say what you want.”

“Okay.  What do you know about the Elements of Harmony?”

The jumping between topics was having the effect he wanted.  Ponies knocked off balance were less likely to lie, and more likely to lie badly when they did.  He could hear the confusion in Silverfeather’s voice when she answered.

“Sir, I… um, the artifacts from the Book?  Given by the Diarchs, they allowed the Saints to bring the light of the Diarchs to all ponies.  They used them to banish the horrors of Tartarus, to…”

Steadfast was waving his hoof before he remembered Silverfeather was hooded.  “No.  Not the stories in the Book.  Anything else?  Any other stories, legends, rumors you may have heard.”

“N-nothing.  Sir, I don’t understand.  Why are you asking me about…”

“With a story like yours?  Visions and dreams from the Lunar Diarch herself?  A presence so strong you even make a dragon stop and take notice, long enough to convince her to let you and your ponies leave unharmed?” Steadfast let himself sound impressed.  “Your comrades may be calling you a coward, but these are the sorts of things you hear about in hero stories.”

“You don’t think I’m a coward?”

“No, Silverfeather, I do not,” Steadfast said.  It was true.  Whatever this mare was, she wasn’t a coward. 

“I… I want to help you, sir.  But I don’t really know what you’re asking.  Elements of Harmony?  I haven’t heard anything more than what I’ve read in the book.  And I barely knew Emberglow.  We had that one mission together.  I thought she was dedicated and loyal.  And she…” Silverfeather gulped.  “I thought she died, distracting the heretics so we could all reach the shield alive.  I had no idea she…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Steadfast’s heart sank.  He’d been hoping.  So many weeks since the Element of of Honesty revealed itself, and he’d been snapping up every false lead, every bread crumb, every heroic story.  He’s been so sure, as soon as he’d heard about the journal, and the visions.  “I think we need to talk about the dragon, now.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.  Steadfast wondered when he’d last had such a cooperative prisoner in interrogation.  “The attack happened just like in my report.  But what happened with the dragon…” she sighed.  “Sir, I don’t know if you can believe it.  I’m not even sure if I can put it into words.  But when the alarm went up, and I flew above the battlements to see the dragons approaching, I just… knew.  I knew this was what I’d dreamed about.  The maelstrom was coming, and I could do my duty, or I could save the ponies.”

“And of course, you…”

“Seventeen Knights.  One hundred and forty five marines, with thirty two auxiliary staff.  And in the village, over eight hundred ponies.  Including foals.”  Her voice was hitched with emotion, and her breath was shaky.  “I-I’d like to think that even if Luna hadn’t asked me, I still would have made the same choice.”

“I think you would have,” Steadfast said softly.  He again ignored the blasphemy.  “So what made the dragon stop?”

“I couldn’t tell you for sure, sir.”  For once, there was hesitation in her voice.  “The battle was already joined, you see.  My Knights were firing the fort’s artillery into the sky, casting shield spells, all the sorts of things you’re supposed to do when a flight of dragons raid. But this wasn’t a normal flight.  It was huge.  And there were class D’s.

“I… I knew what Luna meant for me to do.  I just didn’t know how.  We were safe enough at the time, in the fort.  We were shielded, and we had batteries, even though they wouldn’t last forever.  And then I started to see some of the dragons start to move towards the fields between the fort and the village.  Mostly wheat and barley.  I could see, over the walls, the flames starting to devour some poor farmer’s crops.  And then I see the farmer, silhouetted against the flames, rushing towards them with a bucket of water.”

“Show courage even in humility, and cheer in despair, for the goddesses are ever watching,” Steadfast quoted, and Silverwing nodded.

“That’s when the class E showed up.  I was sure it was over.  Seventeen Knights, against three dozen dragons, one of them E?  But she swooped down and started berating the very dragons that had just set the fires.  I could hear her.  She was shouting loud enough that everypony could.  ‘Military targets only’, she said.  And then the offending dragons apologized.  Have you ever known a dragon to apologize?  For anything?  Ever?”

Steadfast shook his head.  “It does seem odd.”

“That’s how I knew.  That’s how I could feel it.  This was the opportunity Luna had shown me.  I ordered my Knights to cease fire, but to maintain the shield.  And then I found a piece of white cloth to tie to my spear and I… flew outside the barrier and into the dragons.  Straight for the Class E.  I was sure I was going to die.

“But… the dragons paused their attack.  I flew up to the E, and she stared at me.  Like, those eyes…” Silverfeather’s entire body shook.  “She was staring through me.  And her size.  I don’t like admitting how afraid I was, sir.  But I was shaking.”

“Certainly much more afraid then than you are right now.”

“I faced my death that day, Sir Steadfast.  And somehow nothing else seems quite as intimidating as being scrutinized by the gaze of a dragon bigger than my family’s manor.  Sorry, sir.  Not even you.”

It didn’t offend him.  “Tell me about her.”

“Um, orange scales with a yellow underbelly.  Purple spikes.  She was…”

“Not how she looked, Silverfeather.”

“Oh.  We talked.  She landed on the dragon side of the border, and we talked.  She hated me at first, I think.  Her eyes kept going to my armor.  To Lady Rainbow’s cutie mark on my armor, I think.  But the more we talked, the more she relaxed.”

“What did you talk about?”

“She asked me why she should spare the fort, and I started telling her about the village.  About the ponies that lived there.  I told her about the Knights that served under me, about the marines and their families.  I was babbling, I’m sure, but she listened.  And I thought, every second she listens to me is another second that my ponies stayed alive.

“I remember her eyes as we spoke.  They started out hard.  Hateful.  Accusing.  As time went on, though, there was something else there.  She was so old.  Like she’d seen a thousand years.”

shut her up kill her now she knows

useless to you garbage toss it away

“Like she had an old soul?” Steadfast said.  He’d heard the phrase earlier, from her journal.

And from the voices.

“Like that!” Silverfeather’s voice brightened.  “She… she said the same thing about me.  So did Luna.  Sir, do you know what that means?”

“No,” Steadfast lied.  “I’m sorry.  Did she explain herself?  You talked for two hours.”

“It was mostly me.  I asked her what she meant.  And she said… she said that—” Silverfeather shook her head.  “Look, it makes no sense, but she said I reminded her of an old pony friend.  That my eyes were just like his.  Sandbar, was the name she said.”

Steadfast felt his heartbeat surge at the name, even as his stomach sank.  Silverfeather had been so promising.  Nearly any other name, and she would have been walking out of here, under his custody but not under bonds.  Now…

“You’re sure about that name?”

“I am.  I don’t know anything about him, but…”

“I do.”  Steadfast reached for his saddlebags again, sifting through the papers and reports inside to find a long, thin cord.  He pulled it out and began wrapping it around one hoof.  That damned name.

“You do?  Sir, I know I’m in no position to ask, but…”

“He was a hero.  Trained by the Saints themselves.  He was so charismatic, he made friends even with dragons and griffons.  Sandbar’s very existence was proof, for some misguided souls, that peace can exist between us and the other tainted races.”  He stood up, moving around the table, so that he was behind her.  “I’m sorry, Silverfeather.”

Her only reaction was her quickened breathing.  He watched her throat and her chest, moving in and out quickly.  “O-oh.  Can… can I pray?  Before?”

“Of course.  Go ahead.”

“L-lady Rainbow, I’m sorry I have failed in my duty.”  Steadfast stepped up to her chair, looping the cord around his other hoof.  “I made a choice, and I think it was the right one, but I don’t know if I can ever be sure.”  He reared up and slipped the cord around her neck.  “I understand I have to die now.  If I lived well, I thank you for your guidance.”  He steeled himself, setting his grip.  It had been a long time since he’d done this with his own hooves.  “If I didn’t, and I’m wrong, I beg your forgiveness and mercy.  Please receive me with open hooves, and guide me to my next life.  And please forgive this Mystic for what he feels like he has to do.  All Saints keep us.”

“All Saints keep us,” Steadfast repeated, and he pulled.


*   *   *   *   *


Steadfast’s heart rate was still up, and he was breathing hard as he slipped out the interrogation room door, pulling it closed behind him.  It truly had been a while since he’d made a kill with his own hooves, and the voices were howling.

Joy was going to hate this.  He’d tell her as soon as possible.  They’d promised, after all, to keep an eye out for each other.  She didn’t hear the voices as much as he did, but with her research lab so close to the Hall of the Machine, she was troubled by them often.  Enough, at least, to bring them up to Steadfast.

The pounding of hooves alerted him before the hallway door slammed open.  It was North Wind.

“Steadfast.  I need you.  Hurry, please.  You’re gonna wanna see this.”  He paused, glancing at the mirror and the slumped corpse in the room beyond.  “I’ll send somepony to take care of that as soon as I can.  But this is big.”

“How can I help?”

“C’mon.  Up to the roof.”

They didn’t walk, they galloped, with Steadfast closely behind the Adamant.  North Wind’s Knights were buzzing about the Shield with intensity.  Even as the two of them dashed towards an elevator that would take them to the roof, several Knights approached North Wind for orders.

He was mustering his forces, preparing for some kind of huge action.  Steadfast quickened his pace.

The quiet in the elevator was the eye of the hurricane, a deceptively calm moment.  North Wind was breathing hard too, his eyes lifted, as if he could see through the wood and brick to whatever awaited them on the roof of the Shield.  Steadfast was willing to be patient.

Steadfast found himself already anxious as the elevator doors opened to reveal a snow-dusted platform.  A group of ponies were already present, three Adamants with gauntlets surrounding a prone figure on a stretcher.  Steadfast noticed the runes of a first aid spell.  He wasn’t sure which one.

“You need to hear this news right from the pony’s mouth,” North Wind said.  “As soon as you know what you need, I’ll be in the Shield’s atrium.  We’re getting ready to board the train to Old Canterlot.”

“What?” Steadfast stared at him for a second, but North Wind simply motioned to the figure on the stretcher.  Steadfast turned and rushed over.

It was a squire, a young pegasus stallion.  His gray robes were bloodstained, and his breathing was hard and fast.

“Sir!” One of the Adamants saluted.  “This is Squire Hurricane Howl.  Squire, Grand Master Steadfast Word of the Mystics is here.  Tell him what you told the High General.”

“S-sir!” The squire tried to salute, but winced.  Steadfast realized his hoof was painted with a lattice of cuts.

“Stay still, squire.”

“Yes, sir!” the squire said.  “I-it’s Old Canterlot.  It’s fallen, sir.” 

Steadfast was sure he hadn’t heard right.  “Fallen?  Squire, what are you talking about?”

“Fallen, sir.  Ambushed.  A night attack by crystal ponies, unicorns, heretics in yellow armor.  A-and some creatures I’ve never seen before.  Dogs that walk on two legs.  Insects that turn into monsters.  A-a-and the one they’re calling ‘princess’…”

Steadfast jerked his gaze up towards the mountain above them.  On a clear day, you could just make out the ruins.  Now they were obscured behind a thick layer of snow clouds.

“It was over quick.  Really quick.  I was in the dorms, over in The Library.”  That was the squire’s dorm for those wanting to join Steadfast’s own order.  “We heard the sounds of fighting, but Sir Bulwark ordered us to stay inside our rooms.  So we did as we were ordered.  About an hour later, a unicorn in yellow armor blasts our door open and orders us out.  She said that Old Canterlot was under their control now, that we were prisoners and that we wouldn’t be harmed.”  He grunted in pain.  “I wasn’t sure if anypony had gotten the word out.  So a bunch of us squires arranged a distraction.  They attacked the guards to give me a chance to get free and w-warn you all.  That’s where the wounds come from.” 

The squire gave a coughing laugh.  “The bug monsters chased me, but they broke off about an hour before I got back to town.  Sorry, sir, I would have come to you first, but I squired for Lady Lily Petals here at the Shield, and by that point I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“He’d lost a lot of blood, sir,” one of the Adamants supplied.  “I’m not sure how he made it.  Or how he’s even awake to tell you all of this.”

“The blessings of Saint Rainbow and Saint Twilight, I’d guess,” Steadfast said.  “You’ve done a Knight’s work tonight, squire, and I’m damned proud you’re going to be one of mine.”

“Thank you, sir,” the squire breathed.  “If…”

A sound rent the sky, a chime of bells so loud that everypony on the roof cringed, ears pinned back.  Steadfast looked back at the mountain, to where the sound had come from.  Even hidden in the clouds, he always knew where it was.

The chime sounded again, though this time nopony cringed.  When it sounded a third time, the Adamants looked his way with concern.

“Sir, what…”

Steadfast held up a hoof.  “Shh.  It’s a volume spell.  Voice projection.  We’ll find out soon…”

“Ponies of New Canterlot City.  My name is Flurry Heart.”

The voice was female.  It managed to project both strength and kindness, with a good measure of confidence mixed in.

“I ask you to not be afraid, though I realize that may be difficult.  From your perspective, it looks like I have brought a foreign army to your doorstep.  I have attacked your defenders, and brought strange and alien creatures to your cities.  For this necessity, I apologize.

“When my aunt, Princess Twilight Sparkle, still lived, she ruled Equestria from this very city.  She did so with the help of five very special friends, the ones you call Saints.  For hundreds of years, you have tried to follow in their hoofsteps.  But you have been deceived.  The Book of the Saints is a book of lies, and Twilight Sparkle would be disgusted to know the fear, hate, and death that have been brought about in her name.

“You have also been told that the Saints died centuries ago.  This is mostly true, but for one exception.  One of your Saints was preserved for a thousand years for this day, to personally bring you all the truth, and expose the lies the Knights have been telling you for generations.”

Steadfast forced his face into stony calmness, though his heart was pounding.  He knew what was coming next.  He’d been expecting a move from Sir Heartwing for weeks now.  But right now?

“H-hello, ponies of New Canterlot City.  My name is Rarity.”

This voice was familiar.  Steadfast remembered the cloud-blackened night, lit only by the explosions of a sabotaged munitions store and the strikes of lightning.  He remembered a white-furred mare with a drenched mane, staring defiantly at him in the dark.  It was her.

“I know you will probably disbelieve what you are about to hear.  But everything Flurry Heart just told you is true.  I was sealed away by ancient magic, awakened by one of your very own Knights.

“You have, in each of your homes, a book, called the Book of the Saints.  I have read its pages, and frankly, it is a mess of inventions, half-truths, and outright deception.  It does not have my approval or my blessing.  Part of why I am here is to tell you this much.

“But mostly, I returned to address the crisis that is now descending upon New Canterlot City.  The weather.  Even your Knights admit it is not natural.  In that, they are correct.  This unnaturally cold weather stems from disharmony, ponies.  It comes from hate and fear.  It comes from the fear your Diarchy instills for unicorns.  For the other races.  For those who don’t believe as you do, for those who don’t love as you do.  And the solution is harmony.  Peace.  Acceptance.  Love.

“But to bring harmony in the Diarchy would require a paradigm shift.  And that might mean holding some of your leaders accountable for the lies they have told, the cruelties they have inflicted, and the war they have leveled against the peaceful nations of the world.  We are here for peace, yes, but we are also here for justice.”

The broadcast went silent for a moment.  Steadfast could hear the sound of his own heart hammering in his chest.  He let his mind go blank.  Listen first.  Plan later.

“To the civilians of New Canterlot: there will be violence in the days ahead.  It might be unavoidable.  We beg you not to get caught in it.  Evacuate the city if you can.  Stay in your homes if you cannot.  We are only here to deal with the tyrants and bigots who lead you, and we want there to be as little violence and harm inflicted as possible.

“I’m sorry we have to disrupt your lives.  I wish all of this weren’t necessary.  But if we don’t intervene, this winter will last forever.  And New Canterlot City will become a glacier.

“So please, for your safety, stay at home.  But if you want to do more, it’s easy.  Stand up to hate.  Embrace love and hope.  Open your minds to the idea of harmony between the pony tribes, because if we’re going to beat back this hateful winter, we’ll need all of us: earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns.

“Unicorns like myself.  Or your Saint Twilight.  For that is one of the biggest lies you have been told.  In order to control you, you were given a scapegoat to fear.  And to make that work, a part of me, and my dear friend, had to be erased from your history books.  I am Rarity, ponies of New Canterlot City.  The same Rarity who befriended Twilight Sparkle. The Rarity who shared tea with Princess Celestia, who helped counsel Princess Luna in the aftermath of her nightmare.  I am the Rarity who once lived where your city now stands, who sewed dresses for my friends.  And if I trotted into your city today, the Knights Mystic would cut off my horn and kill me.

“Unicorns are not your enemy, New Canterlot City.  Neither are griffons, or dragons, or zebras.  They never were.  And as soon as you let go of that fear, harmony can return to all of us.  Please.”

There was something final about the ending this time, though everypony on the roof continued to stare at the sky for several breaths.  Steadfast looked towards the roof access door; North Wind had come up while Rarity was speaking.  His jaw was slack, his eyes wide and filled with horror.  He blinked, and turned to look at Steadfast, before snapping his gaze to his Knights.

“What are you standing around for!” he snapped, his voice crisp with military discipline.  “Get the wounded inside, and call a Radiant to look at his injuries.  Then report to your companies.  We’ll have orders to set out for the mountain soon.”  The ponies scrambled to obey, taking up the handles of the stretcher as North turned to face Steadfast.

“We’ll need to call the Council of Five,” he said.  Steadfast nodded, his mind whirring.  “We can’t meet in the usual place, obviously.  Perhaps…”

The roof was lit by two flashes of green fire, and Steadfast jerked back in shock before he recognized the light.  Dragonfire scrolls, one each for him and North Wind.  He quickly caught the scroll before it could drop to the snow at his hooves, breaking the seal and ripping it open.

The note inside was terse and abrupt:

The Grand Masters of the Holy Orders of Knighthood are summoned to the Council of Five.  As is her right, Fairy Light summons you.  You are summoned with all urgency and haste.

That all was true to form, though Steadfast had only ever seen this happen once, and that was far before he himself was a Grand Master.  An emergency summons…

By protocol, a Grand Master could issue only one of these a year, and the others were obligated to attend.  It meant, however, that the summoning party controlled the topics of discussion, as well as the rules of debate.  He seethed as he read the small post-script.

As circumstances will not allow the usual place, I pray that you will not object to meeting in Diamond Home, in the first floor conference hall.

Of course nopony else would object.  The reason the Council of Five held its meetings in Old Canterlot was because the palace was neutral ground, supposedly.  Realistically Steadfast’s order held sway there.  But the Radiants had always held themselves apart from the politicking and bickering of the other four orders, so none of the other Grand Masters would see anything wrong with meeting in Fairy Light’s place of power.  Nopony else would see the trap. He glanced over at North Wind, who was nodding worriedly, his eyes fixed on the scroll.

“Makes sense.  We need to coordinate our response to this,” North said, looking at Steadfast.  Steadfast held back a sneer.  That was likely why Fairy had called this meeting, but the sinking sensation in his stomach said the mare had something nasty planned. Call it a hunch. “Walk down to Diamond Home with me?”

“I’ll meet you there,” Steadfast said, shaking his head.  “I have some more reports I want to look over.  Might be helpful to us.”  It was so effortless to lie.  North Wind nodded guilelessly.

“Go with the Saints, Steadfast,” North replied.  “But don’t take too long.”

“I won’t.”

He didn’t even need to go far.  Certainly not all the way back to the Starshine building.  As soon as he was out of sight of the Shield, Steadfast ducked into an alley between two office buildings and raised his gauntlet.  His spellcasting was agitated and shaky, but he managed to cast the communication spell on the first try.

“At least ten,” he whispered, knowing the pony on the other end was already listening.  “Diamond Home.  First floor.  Disguised as wounded or sick.  Ten minutes.”  Steadfast ended the spell.  Lady Backstairs would handle the details.  He lifted his gauntlet to cast a second spell, one that would encase his alleyway in a bubble of silence.  Nopony would bother him.

Now it was time to think.


*   *   *   *   *


Diamond Home’s greatest virtue was also its greatest vulnerability.  It was less of a barracks or a dorm, and more akin to a hospital.  While the Radiant didn’t have the space to convert their headquarters into a full medical facility, there was still a constant stream of patients going in and out, looking for relief from some ailment or other.  Some were even volunteering to participate in the Radiants’ research, as subjects for the Knights of Generosity’s studies into improving their specialty healing magic.

The building was the smallest among the headquarters of the five orders, but Steadfast had always liked the practicality of it.  The Knights Radiant used their Saints-given power to directly help those around them, in ways both tangible and immediate.  If it were up to him, all the Orders would function more closely to the Radiants.

Of course, this assumed whoever led the Radiants was willing to work with him.  Fairy Light was not.

The building, like the Shield, was austere and practical.  Unlike the Shield, though, the Radiants went out of their way making their headquarters welcoming and homey.  As he walked through the front doors, he was immediately struck by the contrast of colors; the walls were lined with hanging planters, splashes of vibrant green life against the whitewashed walls.  The vast entry hall, full of rows of chairs for supplicants waiting to be seen, was interspersed with large pots, each one filled with more greenery. 

Steadfast pointedly didn’t look at any of the ponies filling the room.  He knew Backstairs would already have Knights in place, disguised so well even he might not recognize them.  It was a phantom comfort.

Instead, he strode right up to the front desk, so much like the reception desk in a hospital.  Instead of nurses, there were four squires at the desk, managing patient intake and reception.

“Welcome to Diamond Home, Sir Steadfast,” one of the squires said confidently.  “You are the last to arrive.  The others are waiting for you in the conference room.” She pointed back down a long hallway to the east.  “I can show you if you like, sir.”

“No thank you.”

The door to the conference hall was guarded by two Radiants in armor.  Steadfast’s breath caught for just a second in his throat when he recognized the tall, graceful form of Mercy Song.  She stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his eyes as he passed by her, pulling the door open and entering the hall.

A conference hall on the ground floor of Diamond Home somehow didn’t quite have the grandeur of the ancient council room built out of a thousand-year old palace.  Steadfast had wondered idly if Fairy would have tried to at least set the place up like that familiar room, and was strangely glad she had not.  In lieu of the typical round table was a simple conference table, a rectangle with rounded ends, made of heavy oak.

The other four Grand Masters were already there, sitting around the table. High General North Wind was deep in conversation with the elderly Lady Proud Stone, Supreme Judge of the Vigilant.  Sir Layer Cake, the relatively new bespectacled Confessor Preeminent, was going through a stack of papers on the table with an agitated sort of urgency.

And then there was Fairy Light, the First Lady of the Radiant.  Her eyes were closed in either meditation or prayer.  With the shape of the table, Steadfast was sure she would have chosen the head, but as soon as he opened the door, her eyes slid open, and she motioned to the seat with a smile.

“Good, we’re all here,” North Wind said.  “We can get started.  What’s the plan?”

“I…”

“The summoning was done by official form.  The meeting, though unorthodox in location, must follow official etiquette.”  Proud Stone’s scratchy voice, even and devoid of emotion, cut through the room.  North Wind rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like we don’t know why we’re here,” he scowled.  “Why waste time on procedure when we have an enemy at the gates?!”

“Because it is tradition,” Proud Stone replied.  Inwardly Steadfast agreed with North Wind.  But even though Proud would be on his side in any vote (and had been for years, even before he’d made his way to his current position) she would stick strictly to the procedures that bound them all.

“Thank you, Lady Stone,” Fairy Light said.  “I am sorry, Sir North.  I promise we will get to the relevant business of the Crystal Empire forces and our plans for them in due time.”

“That’s not why you called a meeting of the Five?”

“Sir North Wind!” Proud Stone snapped.  “Please restrain your impulses.  The proper course must be followed.”  She glanced at Fairy Light.  “Lady Fairy, the meeting is yours to open and direct.”

“Thank you.  Sir Layer, would you please open us with a prayer?”

The Jubilant cleared his throat and stood.  “Very well.  All Saints, we come to you in earnest need.  We, your highest servants, are beset by enemies, who have violated your most holy sanctuary and brought violence and death to your beloved chosen Knights.”

Steadfast had to still his hooves under the table; it would be improper if he began tapping them impatiently in the middle of a prayer given by a Knight overly fond of the sound of his own too-flowery speech.

“We, who are your illustrious Grand Masters, who have overcome numerous trials and struggles to attain our positions as your most earnest and august servants, need your aid and your wisdom in this time of violence and confusion.

“Saint Twilight, we beg that you bless us with your wisdom and knowledge.  Help us cast back the darkness of heresy with the light of your very own magic.

“Saint Applejack, guide us with your earnest need for truth.  Help us see the deceptions and plots that led these enemies to our shores, even to the very walls of our homes!”

Steadfast was finding it harder and harder not to sigh.  He did his best to try and focus on the sentiment, rather than the purple prose.

“Saint Fluttershy, shield us from your wayward and traitorous children.  Saint Rainbow Dash, bless our hooves and our hearts with courage and strength, and let us fly the banner of victory high above us.

“Saint Pinkamina, bind the morale and spirits of our soldiers with brightness and light.  Even in the darkest of nights, let their joy hold strong and shine forth like stars in the darkness.

“Saint Rarity, consecrate the hooves and the labors of your own children, to keep us all ready and able.  Especially guide the thoughts and wisdom of your own Fairy Light as she steers our discussions today.  All Saints keep us.”

“All Saints keep us,” the rest of them repeated.

“Thank you, Sir Layer Cake.”  Fairy Light stood as Layer took his seat again.  She had a stack of her own documents, sitting before her at the table.  “I know you are all eager to discuss what has happened on the mountainside.  I myself am sick with worry for the souls of my own ponies, captured or worse.  But what I have to say this morning may be even more important than any of that.”

“More important?  Lady Fairy, what…”

“North Wind, you will respect decorum,” Lady Proud Stone cut him off, while Fairy Light watched them both patiently.  As North Wind scowled, Proud Stone nodded to Fairy.

“Thank you, Lady Stone.  And I am sorry, Sir North.  I’ll ask your indulgence for a few minutes only.”  She took a deep breath, and Steadfast was just close enough to hear the nervous quiver.  “The message from the mountainside filled me with terror, and sadness as well.  But it also reminded me of a time when we here were not five, but six.

“It is appropriate, I think, to remind ourselves of the sequence of events that led us to this point.  We only risk repeating the past when we ignore it.

“We Knights are a family.  And three centuries ago, one of our brothers left, never to return.  And why did he leave?  Because we didn’t listen.

“Three hundred years ago, Grand Master Arctic Breeze of the Angelic went to his sister, Lady Sweet Breeze.  He told her a story so fanciful and dark that she couldn’t possibly believe him.  She refused to hear what he had to share with her.  She refused to let him speak, even.  Heartbroken and rejected, he left her office that night with no other options.  With our refusal to hear his words, we backed him into a corner.”

North Wind looked like he wanted to speak up, to chime in, but his eyes met Steadfast’s.  Steadfast shook his head imperceptibly.  Patience, he mouthed.  He’d give Fairy Light just enough time to condemn herself.

“Today we have a chance.  We have a chance to undo the mistake my predecessor made.  The heretics are here, at our doorstep.  They are ready to strike.  We have the skills, the courage, and the favor of the Saints to drive them off.  But I wonder if we don’t have another opportunity.  To heal the wound that we have done to ourselves.”

“You suggest… some kind of negotiation?” Layer Cake’s voice was thick with disgust and disbelief.  Proud Stone opened her mouth to condemn the interruption, but Fairy Light smiled at her and waved a hoof, placatingly.

“I think, at the very least, we should consider it.”  Fairy shook her head at the snorts of disbelief from both North Wind and Layer Cake.  Proud Stone, as usual, was stoically silent, but Steadfast could see a hint of disbelief in her eyes, as well.  “But I mention it only for some context.  Because what I say next may be better understood if we see our conflict with the Discordant as a wound that could be healed, if we have enough faith and determination.”

She took another calming breath.  “Six there were, now five remain.”  Steadfast recognized the words of the prophecy, the one spoken by the Radiant’s oracle.  “One rules from the shadows, while the others follow blindly.  Hope is lost, but what is lost—” she paused, her gaze meeting Steadfast. “—What is lost can be found.”

“What are you—” North began.

“For the long years of our Orders’ histories,” Fairy cut through his interruption,  “Each of us has bought into the lie that each Order is equal.  That we each have unique roles and unique insights, and therefore work together as one.  But we all know that isn’t true, don’t we?  Among us is a ‘first among equals’.  One of the five, ruling from the shadows while the rest of us follow with blindness.

“I’m not blind, ponies.  I saw the looks of revulsion and horror in your eyes when I suggested we negotiate with the heretics.  Nor am I blind to the danger I am now in, for even suggesting it.  As you all know, though we claim to be equals, all of us but one, if we step too far over the line into that danger, could find ourselves under the knives and the hot pokers of a Mystic interrogation room.  Because we are not equals.  And we never have been.  We have always chased our duties only at the behest of one of our number.”

“Is there a point to this?” North Wind demanded.  Steadfast kept the smile off his face.  He knew there was no need for him to speak, even though he wanted to cackle with glee as he watched Fairy Light overextend herself.  The others would do it for him.  He could practically see the pieces lining up, as she exposed her Solar Diarch while his Knight and Rook moved into position for the checkmate.  “All this talk of listening.  I think I’m done.”

“Very well, Sir North Wind.  I shall get to my point.  The first of three reasons why I called this meeting.” Fairy Light said.  With a hoof, she reached down and slipped a manilla folder out of the stack of her papers, sliding it to the middle of the table.  “I have received credible and conclusive evidence, from multiple sources, implicating Steadfast Word in the murders of Grand Master Morrel, Grand Master Candleflame, Grand Master Nickelplate, as well as a dozen others over the last ten years in his efforts to clear his path to the position he holds now.  Steadfast Word, I accuse you of oathbreaking, murder, treason, and heresy.  You have lost the light of the Saints from the moment you chose murder so you could satisfy your vain ambitions.”

The council room exploded with noise.  North Wind was shouting at Fairy Light, and Proud Stone was shouting back, demanding that he sit down and be silent.  Layer Cake was shouting at both of them.  Only Steadfast and Fairy Light were silent, meeting eyes across the table. 

He could see a wealth of information in her gaze.  She was nervous, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes twitched in time with her trembling ears.  Her lips were pursed, tight with anger that betrayed her calm exterior.  Behind her, her tail lashed slowly, almost like a cat’s, ready to pounce.  Anticipation.

But Fairy was watching him.  Looking for something.  Waiting.  He wanted to grab the file she’d slid onto the table.  Wanted to pull it open, to see what she had on him.  Fairy Light was no risk-taker, he knew.  She was calm and methodical.  She didn’t rock the boat.  What could she have possibly learned, possibly found, that let her feel confident enough to make this move?

Steadfast’s gaze flickered to the folder, and for a brief moment he thought he could see Fairy Light smirk with victory.  Suddenly she raised both her hooves, slamming them down on the table hard enough to hear the crack of wood.  The cacophony of the other Grand Masters receded for a moment as they all stared at her.

“We are about to go to war, ponies.  War with the Discordant, and with a new foe, the Crystal Empire.  But we don’t even yet know if we need to.  We haven’t even tried to speak with them.  We haven’t listened.  And whatever choice the Saints guide us to today, I refuse to be led by a stallion with so much death and evil to his name.  For centuries, Mystic leadership has led us to battle after battle, war after war.  Mystic leadership has led to Steadfast Word.

“So the first of three motions I will make tonight.  I move to suspend Steadfast Word’s position on this council and leadership of the Mystics until these charges can be addressed.”

“I will second,” Steadfast Word said.  Everypony else stared at him, gaping openmouthed.  “If Lady Fairy does not have confidence in my innocence, we will not be able to present a united front against these threats.”

“Th-the motion has been presented and seconded,” Proud Stone said, only a hint of her ever-present composure cracking.  “Is there any debate on the motion?”

“We don’t have time for debate!” North Wind cried.  “We’re in a crisis right now!  There’s no sense playing whatever game this is, when it’s only gonna weaken our response!”  He shuddered.  “Seriously, Fairy Light?  What in Tartarus are you thinking?  My vote’s no.”

“I also see no need for debate.” Layer Cake shook his head, glaring at Fairy Light darkly.  “Really, mare? Your timing is atrocious.  I vote no.”

“These charges will have to be answered.  Our vote now does not change that.”  Steadfast was sure he’d never seen Proud Stone so worried.  “But I agree with North Wind and Layer Cake.  The Vigilant will oversee this investigation after the matter of the Discordant has been dealt with.  I vote no as well.”

Three votes in his favor.  It meant he wouldn’t even have to vote for himself, something that wouldn’t have helped his case.  He allowed himself a small smile of victory as he looked to Fairy Light.

“It appears the motion does not pass, Lady,” he whispered, and she nodded stoically.

“I suspected that might be the case,” Fairy Light said.  “So let us move on.  Because I have more I need to tell you.”

“Can she…”

“Lady Fairy Light called the meeting.  She has the floor.”  Proud Stone’s voice was hard.  For now, it seemed to say.

“When Grand Master Arctic Breeze turned his back on all of us, I think perhaps he hoped his large, dramatic gesture would cause his brothers and sisters to stop, to reconsider their path, to maybe even change their minds about listening.  His hopes were flawed and wrongheaded.  The wound we have cannot be healed through violence.

“So today, I would like to announce a change in direction of my Knights, the Children of Saint Rarity.  We choose this day to retire our oaths of poverty and chastity.  We will replace them with a new oath: an oath of peace.

“Forever more, the Radiant will no longer take up arms except to defend our own lives, or the lives of our patients.  We will defend ourselves, and our healing will be free to all; faithful and heretic, pony and non-pony.”

This time there was no explosion of sound.  There was deathly silence.  He even saw North Wind reach for where his spear would have been stored, on the back of his armor, if he’d carried it to the meeting.  Layer Cake’s eyes were wide, and he was panting.  Even the normally ironclad Proud Stone looked nauseous.

“Unwilling to follow the Mystics lead, so you walk the path of Discord, then?” Steadfast breathed.

Fairy Light shook her head.  “No.  I won’t let heretics guide my hooves.  Nor will I allow murderers to do so.  The Radiant will carve our own path, now.  And maybe it will make us all rethink how we approach this war with our wayward brothers and sisters in the Discordant.”

“T-treason.  You’re talking treason, Fairy Light.  How can you even consider this?” North Wind was pale.

“Because the Saints never meant for the Diarchy to be consumed by eternal war.” Underneath her calm exterior, Steadfast could see the conviction.  And the fear.

“And you are so sure about the will of the Saints?” Steadfast said.  Now it was time for passion, for accusation and anger.  “Arrogance.  Hubris.  How dare you, Lady Fairy Light.  You risk us all, in some sort of scheme to extort peace out of us?  You would doom us to the blades of the Discordant.  And then what?  You join them?”

“No.  We join nopony.  Until the war between the Diarchy and the Discordant is over, the Radiant will be neutral.  We will join no side.  Our only role is to walk in Saint Rarity’s hoofsteps, healing the wounded.”  She paused, eyeing each of them.  “Regardless of which side they belong to.”

“I’m done listening to this,” Steadfast said.  He’d stayed silent during her accusation.  But he knew the others were on his side.  Fairy Light’s accusations may have been damning, but she’d squandered any advantage she could have earned from it with this ridiculous stunt.  “Your heresy has reared its ugly head, Fairy Light.  You will be taken into the custody of the Knights Mystic, and another will be chosen to lead your Knights during this crisis until…”

“Arrest me, and every single one of your knights will be denied the succor and healing of Saint Rarity and her children.”  There was fear in her eyes, Steadfast could see.  Terror and adrenaline in equal measure.  “Every single one of my Knights has been informed of my intent here today.  We are prepared if you choose to reject us, to split our family further.”  She pointed an accusing hoof at Steadfast.  “But if we are driven from you, it will be by your choice, not ours.  If you wish to have our healing, you will receive it on our terms.  Peacefully.  Any who make war within our halls will be cast out.”

“You’re not the only order that teaches healing runes, Lady Fairy,” North Wind spat.  “My medics can…”

“You make whatever choice you can live with, Sir North Wind,” Fairy Light cut him off.  “I will not constrain the path you walk.  I only ask the same privilege for me and mine.  In fact, I require it.”

“We have heard enough.  North Wind, will you help me take this heretic into custody?  We…”

“I’m not finished!” Fairy Light slammed her hooves against the floor.  “Lady Magenta Mirror, are you listening?”

Magenta Mirror?  She was a Jubilant.  And one of Steadfast’s ponies, in fact.  Why was she…

“I beg your forgiveness, Grand Masters,” Fairy said.  “You see, I wished to hope that you would all be rational about this.  That you wouldn’t jump to violence.  That you would listen.  But I’m not stupid enough to expect it.  So I broke protocol.”

The door opened, and a familiar magenta furred pony, with a blonde mane,  stepped into the conference room.  It was one of Steadfast’s ponies, Magenta Mirror.  One he’d thought was loyal.  She was dressed in armor, but it was armor Steadfast had never seen before.  It certainly wasn’t the pink armor she should have been wearing.  It was white like the Radiants armor, but instead of Saint Rarity’s cutie mark, it bore Saint Fluttershy’s. 

“It’s done, Lady Fairy. We’ve identified at least twelve disguised Knights Mystic in the waiting area, the first floor diagnostics room, and the surrounding hallways.  Anesthesia spells proved effective at subduing them.  My Knights are in position in case there are others we did not discover.”

“Who is this?” Proud Stone gasped.  “These proceedings are closed to all except Grand Masters!  You show the depths of your heresy, Fairy Light!”

“This is Magenta Mirror, formerly of the Jubilant.  Now, at my request, she has become Grand Master of the Knights Angelic.  I have reformed the order.”

“Oathbreaker,” Steadfast hissed, locking eyes with his former follower.  Magenta shook her head.

“No, Sir Steadfast,” Magenta said with narrowed eyes.  “Unlike you, I remained loyal to my oaths.  You are the one who has led the entire Knighthood into darkness.”  Her gaze moved from pony to pony at the table, staring into each of the hostile faces.  “Fairy Light is right.  What we needed was a shakeup.  Something to break us out of old and deceitful traditions.  The neutrality of the Radiant will restore the hope and peace we so desperately need.  And while they do so, the Angelic will spread their wings as the shield that will keep them safe.”

Fairy Light’s bold voice cut across the objections that followed. “My second and third motions, Grand Masters, are these.  I motion that the council accepts the neutrality of the Knights Radiant.  I further motion that we accept the return of the Knights Angelic, with Lady Magenta Mirror as their Grand Master.”

Knight takes pawn.  Knight threatens Solar Diarch. Check.

It didn’t matter what the Council of Five voted.  Not now.  They would reject her motions, of course.  With or without Steadfast’s influence.  They would have to.  But any chance to arrest Fairy Light, and prevent whatever it is she was attempting before it could get off the ground, was gone.

How did Fairy do it?  How could she have possibly subverted his own ponies without him even knowing?  It was brutally clear to Steadfast, now, how Fairy had managed to get evidence to accuse him of involvement in the deaths of the other Grand Masters.  Magenta Mirror hadn’t been involved in the murders themselves, but she’d been trusted enough to have access to the right files, the right records.  Enough that she could have pieced things together.

The others were arguing, but once again Steadfast found himself locking eyes with Fairy Light.

“How?” he whispered.  Somehow she heard over the cacophony.

“I had to think like you.”  He could only see her mouth moving, could barely hear her over North Wind’s shouts and Magenta Mirror’s rebuttals.  “I found ponies who would listen.  Orphans without a mother.”

The Seamstress’ Orphans.  A meaningless fraternity of pegasi who shared a common origin.  The sickening knot in the pit of his stomach, the increasingly familiar burn of failure, made his lips twist into a snarl.

“You made the Orphans into your pawns,” Steadfast breathed.  He’d been outmaneuvered, and he hadn’t even seen it coming. It was galling.

“Not pawns,” Fairy said, pride in her voice.  “Knights.”

“You made the Orphans into Knights? How could you possibly manage that?”  The supply of Knight potion was strictly limited, and controlled by artificers within his own Order.

“We have long known there was another way to empower the potion besides your wretched cannibalism, Sir Steadfast,” Fairy Light sneered at him with contempt.  “It took a long time, but we have managed.  And when we sent out the call, righteous pegasi answered.  More than you might think.  Enough to make you pause, at least.”

Steadfast closed his eyes, clenching the edge of the table with his hooves, hard enough that it hurt.

“Stop.”

The arguing washed over him like a wave.  Steadfast stood.

“Stop!”

Layer Cake had a hoof around North Wind, holding him back as he tried to struggle forward.  His eyes darted between Fairy Light and Magenta Mirror, murder written in his furious gaze.

“Stop!  All of you, stop!”  North Wind slumped, and the three loyal Grand Masters turned to stare at him.  “We have been outplayed.  For now.  There is nothing we can do.”

“Horseapples, Steadfast!  There’s four of us, and two of…”

“If you try to harm any Radiant, including Fairy Light, you will not leave this building,” Magenta said.  “My entire order may be small for now.  But every single one of my Knights is here in Diamond Home, their attention fixed on this very room, ready to stop you from doing anything you might regret later.  You are outnumbered ten to one, Sir North Wind.  Do you really want to risk a pointless, foolhardy attack right now?  Especially one which could lose your Order’s access to the Mothers’ healing magic?”

“We will need to reconvene to discuss this,” Steadfast said, eyeing North Wind.  “If we are not to have your aid against the heretics, we have plans to make.  Plans that neither of you are a part of, now.”

“If you wish, we are willing and able to facilitate peace talks between you and the Discordant.  We doubt they will accept our neutrality so easily, but we are willing to try.”  Fairy Light’s voice was agonizingly reasonable.  It made him boil.

“You know where you can put your peace talks, Fairy Light,” Steadfast couldn’t help a snarl.  “Will you even allow us to go?”

“Of course.  As you make plans, though, please consider carefully before you try something foolish, like besieging our building.  For one thing, every single member of the Knights Angelic is a pegasus.  For another, think about what it would mean to fight a war with us trapped on the inside, and the Empire and their allies on the outside.  You cannot afford to fight us and defend yourself against them simultaneously.  Peace might be your best option.”

“I’ll take that into advisement, Fairy Light,” Steadfast sneered.  “North Wind, Layer Cake, Proud Stone?  We reconvene at my office in one hour.”  The three nodded.  “Then by your leave, Lady Fairy Light?”  He tried not to sound bitter.

He failed.

“You will beg the Saints for forgiveness for this day, Fairy Light,” he hissed as he passed.  “And I have no words for traitors.”  Magenta was stoic and cold in her gaze.

“Steadfast.”  He turned, almost at the door.  Magenta was watching him, her eyes hard.  “Your ponies have simply been put to sleep.  I shall ensure they’re released as soon as we are sure that there are no ongoing ill effects.”

So hostages, of a sort.  He gave her a barely polite nod and slipped out the door.

The hallway no longer had two guards, but nearly a dozen pegasi in the same Knight armor that Magenta was wearing.  Each one was armed with a spear, a shorter version than most Knights usually carried, with a small shield buckled to the hoof that bore their rune gauntlet.

Each face he recognized was another kick in the gut.  Morningshine was an experienced inquisitor, just a few years older than he was.  They’d exchanged friendly greetings for years.  Feather Bolt was an experienced interrogator.  Drizzle Rain was an Adamant, a skilled rune caster who he’d personally tutored years ago at the Seminary.

How many moles had Fairy Light managed to plant within his own ranks?

 The two Radiant guards from the door were also waiting.  Mercy Song was there, and as she met his eyes there were tears in them.

string her up, choke her dead

lies lies it was all lies all of it lies

never loved you only used you

“You’d do well to remember the cost of treachery.”  The Knights said nothing, merely parting to let him out, but Mercy Song flinched.  He’d mostly been speaking just to her, anyways.


*   *   *   *   *


Steadfast had less than a half hour.  The others would be meeting him in his office soon.  They would need answers.  A plan.  He had none.  Maybe.

come to us we will guide your hoof

a noose a blade a cross a claw kill them all

it doesn’t matter let us loose we will solve it for you

their heads all of their heads on pikes

The voices from the Machine were coming hard and fast now. Steadfast’s trembling had nothing to do with the bitingly cold wind that flowed down off the mountain; in fact, he was sweating.

The Star Shine building was a hornet’s nest.  Everypony needed a second of his attention.  They needed orders, direction, reassurances.  They needed to see his strength and his confidence.  He didn’t let his doubts or his fury show as he gave off an array of orders:

Observers to keep Diamond Home under close surveillance.

Researchers to begin going through records, to identify and detain every member of the Seamstress’ Orphans among his own Knights.

Other Mystics to liaise with North Wind; in the coming fight he wanted at least one of his embedded with every frontline Adamant unit.

Last of all, he’d been patient for too long on the matter of his wayward student’s parents.  It was at Mercy’s request.  But Emberglow had ignored his messages and his requests.  It may be time for less carrot and more stick.  He gave an order for a black bag team.

it is only fair only just she defied you for too long

make her loved ones hurt

none of it matters you’ll fail anyways

kill them all the blood will freeze and

It was a struggle to get them all to leave him alone long enough to reach the elevator.  Because none of it mattered; the voice from the Machine had that part right.  It was irrational, but he’d been outplayed by both Fairy Light and Flurry Heart, and he knew it.

He needed a win.

When he finally did reach the elevator, the silence was oppressive.  This close to the Machine, the voices should have been growing stronger.  Now, they were silent, and the mechanical clatter of the elevator filled his ears.

The hallway at the bottom was empty, and Steadfast forwent decorum in his need for good news.  He galloped down the hallway, his hooves echoing on the stone, until he pulled up to a halt in front of Joyful Noise’s research lab.  He didn’t bother to knock, instead yanking it open.

Joy jerked up with surprise when he entered.  She’d been hunched over a pair of machines, each one spitting out a line of tape covered in ink squiggles. 

“S-sir!  I didn’t expect…” she took a calming breath. “I thought you’d have better things to do than come down and see me.”

“I killed today, Joy,” he said, with no preamble.  She sat up from her seat near the machines, and leaned forward, peering at his eyes.

“Circumstances?”

“An execution.  Adamant prisoner.  A possible Element, perhaps, but she said too much to a dragon.  Or heard too much.  It was a waste.”

“Did the voices tell you to do it?”

“No.  It wasn’t an impulse.”  After his failure with Emberglow at the griffon border, he’d needed someone he could trust, someone he could deconstruct his choices with, to make sure they were his choices, and not theirs.  “You?”

“They want me to kill Brightblade.  I may have done so already.”  She motioned to the tape still spitting out of both machines.  “He’s heartier than the usual subjects, but he’s still mortal.”

Steadfast looked up from Joy to the hospital bed they’d had moved down here a few days ago.  Brightblade looked pale and shriveled.  His eyes were closed, and his mane unkempt.  Shallow breaths managed to barely lift his chest.

“Heh,” he breathed, and Steadfast moved closer.  “I’m not dead yet, sir.  Despite Joy’s best efforts.”  A grim smile split his muzzle.  “You were right, to send me to her.  We think we’ve done it.  We’ve perfected it.”

“You’re… testing it on yourself?” There was a part of Steadfast, the part that still held affection for Brightblade, that wanted to recoil in horror.

at least he will be of some use

finish him off it would be a mercy let the blood spill on the floor

“Not testing, per se,” Joy said.  “Trying a new method of motic incubation.  And I think we’ve cracked it.”

“You mean…”

“It’s ready to deploy, sir,” Brightblade rasped.  His eyes opened.  They were bloodshot, but full of glee.  “Just get some coffee in me.  Maybe something stronger.  I look like horseapples, but I’m ready, sir.  Send me to kill the bitch.”

Steadfast smiled.  For the first time all day, he felt happy.

Lunar Diarch Takes Knight.  Confessor Takes Diarch.  Check.
> Interlude: Like a Thief in the Night
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: Like a Thief in the Night


            	Textile and Needle Point were unsettled.  The entire day had been a struggle at the shop.  More than once, Textile had been tempted to just close up the store for the rest of the day and hide.  He knew Needle Point felt the same way; she was moving woodenly, her ears slicked back against her head, her hooves dragging against the floor.

            	There were too few customers coming to browse.  Textile understood that; after such a shock the day prior, ponies didn’t know what to do with themselves.  Go on with their daily lives as normal?  How?  Just yesterday, a terrifying voice from the sky had blasted heresy and terror over the entirety of New Canterlot City.  How could anypony recover from that?

            	A few ponies had come in looking for travel clothing.  Textile understood their reasoning, too; it wasn’t about faith, it was about safety.  Something strange, something big, was going on in the city, and some ponies didn’t want anything to do with it.  Ponies were packing.  Ponies were leaving.  It wasn’t a flood, yet, but the trickle was steady.  Textile and Needle Point had spoken, though.  They weren’t runners; this was their home.  Even though they hadn’t heard from their daughter in over a year, if she were going to send word, it would be to their home.  This was the city she had fought for. Their daughter, the proud Knight.  If they abandoned the city, what would Emberglow think?

            	Textile and Needle Point prayed nightly to Saint Rarity that she was safe.  It had come as a painful, physical blow to hear the heretics making their absurd claims about Saint Rarity.  How dare they?  Ever since Emberglow’s Knighting, most of her parents’ prayers had gone to their daughter’s favored saint.

            	As the last few customers left the shop, Textile watched the slowly creeping hands of the clock, while his wife worked on clothes in the back.  Ten minutes to seven, closing time.  Then the door popped open, the bell ringing its tinkling welcome.  The sound was a jarringly cheerful counterpoint to the prevailing mood.

            	The pony who entered was…odd.  She had cream colored fur, and a jet-black mane with a garish pink streak.  Her blue eyes were piercing and danced with a cheerfulness that seemed somehow unnatural.  She was wearing a black blouse, and a skirt that was so short it was nearly scandalous.  Textile could almost see her cutie mark!  Over the blouse she wore a pair of saddlebags; the buckles were undone.  On top of all that, she was chomping loudly on a piece of gum.

            	“Hey,” the mare said as she saw him notice her.  Her voice was friendly, but a little flippant.  She began to browse the shelves, as if nothing were odd or wrong.  The fur on the back of Textile’s neck raised slightly; he was definitely getting a sketchy vibe from this pony.  Having owned a retail store for years, he had long since learned to trust his instincts when it came to sketchy ponies; though shoplifting was rare, it wasn’t unheard of.

            	“Hello, welcome to Needle Point Textiles,” he said politely.  Just because you thought somepony might be stealing didn’t mean you couldn’t be nice.  Sometimes good customer service was enough to scare off a potential thief.  “We’re closing in ten minutes,” he added.

            	“Oh sure.  I’m just looking around, anyways.  I can leave if you need me to,” the mare said, chomping on her gum.  Textile had to fight back a comment.

            	“No, you’re fine.  Are you looking for anything in particular?”

            	“Nope.  Just saw your displays, and I thought some of your stuff looked interesting.  Thought I’d come in and browse.  It sucks you’re closing so soon.  I love small shops like this one.”  The pony began to peruse the shelves, idly flipping through the merchandise.  Her movements told another story, however.  She would pick up a dress to look at, but her eyes would scan about the shop, rather than looking at what she was holding.  She was casing, then.  Looking for blind spots in his behavior.  She was definitely up to something dishonest.  It made him sick.  Why couldn’t ponies just tell the truth?

            	Textile glanced back into the work room.  His wife had gotten up, and was poking her head into the storefront.  Without saying anything, he raised his eyebrows and nodded towards the oddly-behaving customer, his ears pinned back.  Needle Point, having been married to her husband for twenty five years, was able to easily pick up on what he was conveying.  She casually stepped onto the sales floor, stepping behind the counter so that Textile could move out among the displays.  As if he were merely preparing the store for closing, he moved among the racks of dresses and shirts, rearranging and straightening each row of product, while always managing to do so within line of sight of the strange mare.  She looked up at him with a knowing smirk, before going back to what she was doing.  She knew that he was on to her; this was fine.  Textile didn’t mind if she knew she was being watched; she was much less likely to steal that way.

            	The sketchy mare browsed until it was only one minute before closing time.  Textile deliberately moved right up to her.

            	“I’m sorry, miss, but it’s just about seven o’clock.  We’re closing up.  Did you need any help with anything?”

            	“Actually, I have a small favor to ask of you,” she admitted, and Textile groaned inwardly.  Here it was, the beginning of whatever scam she had planned.  “A friend of mine is gonna be on the radio in just a second.  Do you have a radio?  It’ll only take a few seconds, then I’ll be out of your hair.  I’ll even buy something, if you need me to.”  She looked at him sheepishly.  “It’s kinda the whole reason I found an open store.  Please?  It’s really important to her that I hear it.”

            	That was odd.  He wondered what her angle was.  But they did have a radio; Emberglow had bought it for them last year, shortly before the letters had stopped coming.  It sat on a shelf behind the counter.  Maybe she could listen, and then leave.  He looked back at Needle Point, who shrugged.

            	“Look, I know you think I’m just here to steal something.  I’m not, I swear.  I have bits, I’ll pay you…” she’d stopped chomping at her gum, and now the mare just sounded earnest.

            	“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Textile asked, and the mare blushed.

            	“Hey, sure, just walk in off the street and open with ‘hey, can I listen to your radio?’.  It’s totally creepy.  I… I didn’t know how to ask without sounding weird.”

            	“Well, you managed anyways,” Textile grumped, and Needle Point shot him a look.  “What frequency should I turn it to?”  The mare rattled off the frequency, and Needle Point turned the dial, looking for the station the mare asked for.  At first there was nothing, only whining static.

            	“I’m sorry, I don’t think…” Needle Point said, before suddenly the static cleared, and a mare's voice cut into the shop.

            	“Hey, good evening, ponies!  Congratulations on finding the frequency of Truth!  You’re listening to Radio Free Equestria!  New Canterlot City’s best and only-est pirate radio station!”

            	“This is… th-the heretic broadcast!” Needle Point shouted, horrified.  Both ponies spun on their erstwhile customer, only to realize she had retrieved something from her saddlebags.  A small, round object, black, with a silvery pin sticking out of the top.  A pin that was now clenched in the cream earth pony’s teeth.

            	“Hold still.  Don’t move.  We’re gonna listen, and nopony’s gonna do anything weird, or I pull this out and y’all get to meet your Saints really quick, kay?” the pony said, her eyes darting back and forth between the two older ponies.  Needle Point was shaking with fear, and Textile felt a cold lump in the pit of his stomach.

            	“Why…” he began, but the heretic made a slicing motion with her hoof.

            	“Shush.  I told you, I’m here to listen to a friend on the radio.  We all sit here and listen for five minutes, and then I leave.  Promise.  Nopony does anything heroic, and nopony gets hurt.  I swear to Celestia.”

            	If there were any doubt they were dealing with a dangerous heretic, it was gone.  Husband and wife looked at each other fearfully, and Textile shook his head.  They would be patient, for now.  Meanwhile, the announcer on the pirate radio station had continued.

            	“…extra special program, in the wake of yesterday’s long-awaited good news.  Tonight’s guest is a friend of the big guy himself, and she wants to reach out to her parents.  We’re not gonna say names, to keep folks as safe as possible, but I hope your parents recognize your voice.”

            	“I hope so too,” said another mare’s voice, and Textile and Needlepoint’s jaws dropped in shock.  It was their daughter, Emberglow.  

A thousand emotions buzzed through Textile’s head.  Relief, because Emberglow was alive.  Horror, because her voice was coming to him from the heretic broadcast.  Confusion.  Dread.  Joy.  Gratitude.  But he didn’t even have a second to process it all, because the radio kept playing Emberglow’s voice.

“Mom?  Dad?  I’m so sorry that you have to hear me like this.  I would have sent a letter, but letters aren’t safe.  I’m pretty sure they’ve censored the last few I sent.  You probably never even got them.”  Over the radio, they could hear their daughter take a deep, calming breath.

            	“I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me.  I don’t know if you’ll even believe me.  But that thing you’re afraid of has happened right now?  It’s probably true.  I’ve joined the ‘heretics’, as you call them.  Only, they’re right.  We’ve been lied to, deceived, for years.  I’ve seen things that have broken my heart, and destroyed me to the core.  I’ve had to rebuild myself from the shattered pieces of my faith.  And now I see everything so much more clearly.  The Diarchy is made of nothing but hate.  Hate for unicorns, hate for other creatures, and hate for anypony who’s even a little bit different.  I couldn’t be a part of hate any longer, and they tortured me when I said so.

            	“Mom, Dad?  You’re in danger.  I know the two of you would never do anything to betray the faith.  But you also raised your daughter to be honest, to seek truth and justice.  And that’s what I did, even when that rocky path led me to where I am now.  And because of me, my choices, you’re going to be hurt.  Tonight, after dark, a team of Knights Mystic are going to show up at your home and ‘disappear’ you.  I’ve sent a friend to come try to get you out safely, if you want.”

            	Both of Emberglow’s parents glanced at the strange mare, who wore a silly grin and was mouthing, ‘That’s me!’

            	“I know you won’t believe me.  Maybe you think this is magical trickery, or maybe you think I’m being coerced.  I’m not.  So I’m going to prove it to you, by sharing something nopony else could know.  Remember the night you gave me my dress?  My twelfth birthday?  I was awake that night, listening with the window open.  I heard the two of you speaking and crying.  Mom… I love you so much.  I heard you sobbing because you thought I would never have foals.  You wanted, more than anything else, to hold a foal in your hooves again after the Knights Mystic so cruelly ripped you away from your youngest, just for the nonsensical offense of being a unicorn.  You were in tears because you thought you’d never have anything like that again.  I heard, Mom, and I remembered.”

Textile looked at his wife.  He remembered that night.  She was in tears then.  She was in tears now.

            	“I want you to be safe, mom and dad,” Emberglow continued.  “I want you to go with my friend tonight.  My friend will bring you to me.  I want to tell you about these things face to face.  I want you to know that you can have what you’ve always wanted, mother.  Because I’m with somepony now.  And I’m going to have foals, mom.  Just like you always dreamed for me, even if you buried those dreams because they weren’t mine.  I want you to meet my special somepony, but I can’t introduce you if you stay in the city.  Because she’s a mare.  And she’s a unicorn.

            	“I’m so sorry I had to tell you this way.  You can’t begin to understand how much I wish circumstances could be different.  But I need you to believe me.  I need you to trust my friend.  Please escape the city, so we can see each other again safely.  You can be disappointed with me, you can hate me forever, but please trust me now.  Please.”

            	“Well, folks, what a story!” the announcer’s voice came back on again.  “Let’s hope this story has a happy ending.  Hopefully we’ll be back with an update in a few days.”

            	The sound cut out as Textile reached out and turned the radio off.

            	“What…” he began, stunned.  He looked back at the mare.

            	“Call me Bubblegum,” she said, taking the grenade pin out of her mouth, and tossing the ‘grenade’ gently into the air.  Textile nearly shrieked until he saw the weapon gently drift up, then down.  Bubblegum tapped it slightly with one of her hooves, and it shimmered slightly before becoming nothing more than a cyan colored foal’s balloon.  “Sorry about that little deception with the balloon.  I had to be sure you’d listen.”  Gone was the flippant tone; now the mare sounded sincere.

            	“This is too much,” Needle Point sobbed, collapsing to the floor.  “It’s too much, I can’t…”

            	“Look, I hate to be an ass about this, but we don’t have a lot of time.  So I’m going to need you two to work through this and pull yourselves together really quick,” Bubblegum said.  “It’s seven o’clock now.  Sundown is in about an hour.  As soon as it gets dark, a team of Mystics is gonna be here to black bag the two of you.  I don’t know what their goal is, but I can promise it’s most likely that you two are gonna end up in an unmarked grave somewhere outside the city.”

            	“Why would they… we’ve never done anything wrong!” Textile insisted, his voice rising with panic.

            	“Yeah, I know.  Emberglow knows that too, that’s why she set this up.”  Bubblegum snorted.  “I’m so bucking tired of innocent ponies getting hurt because of those Mystic plotholes.”  She sighed.  “Here’s your options.  You take ten minutes to grab whatever you can’t live without.  I’ve got food, so only mementos and stuff that’s irreplaceable.  Then I cast some spells and sneak us out of the city quick as I can.  You get to see your daughter, and meet her marefriend.  Maybe you get some answers to the numerous questions I can see in your faces.  Or option two: you stay here.  You don’t believe me, and you stay in your house until the Mystics show up.  Maybe I can take on the team of them, and save you.  But then there’s no time for packing.  And maybe I fail, and all three of us die.  Please pick option one.”

            	“How can we believe you?” Textile asked.  It was just like Needle had said.  It was too much.  It was all so overwhelming. He needed time, he needed space.  The walls felt too close, the racks of clothing felt confining. “How can we possibly…”

            	“I can’t answer that.  It’s up to you to decide if your daughter was telling the truth on that broadcast.  When she told that personal story, was it something only she would know about?”

            	“I had no idea she was listening,” Needle Point said softly.  She was trembling slightly as she spoke.  “Do you think maybe it really was her?”

            	“You’re willing to fight Knights Mystic for us?” Textile asked, bewildered.  

            	Bubblegum nodded. “I owe a lot to Emberglow.  She saved my life, and my foal’s life.  So, yeah.  I promised her I’d die before I let you guys get taken.”  Bubblegum looked away, a faint blush visible on her cream fur.  “I don’t usually get emotional and stuff, but your daughter’s special.  And maybe you don’t believe this, but I still take my vows as an Adamant pretty seriously.  Protect and defend.  I just defend the right ponies, now.  Innocent ones, like you two.  So… decision time.”

            	“Do we dare?” Textile asked his wife.  He felt sick.  Needle Point looked pale, as if she were also about to vomit.

            	“I… I don’t know.  I want to trust her.  Saints defend us,” Needle Point sobbed out.  “What if she’s right?  Disappeared?  Like Oak Chips, never seen again?”  Needle Point paused for a moment.  “No.  No!  I want to see Emberglow again.  You heard our daughter.  She says we can trust this mare.”

            	“Okay,” Textile eventually said, his heart pounding.  “We’ll go with you, Bubblegum.”

            	“Nice!” Bubblegum said with a grin.  “I might live to see my husbands again.  Now, we have enough time for one set of saddlebags each.  We don’t need food or clothes, so as I said, just grab any keepsakes you’d be heartbroken without.”

            	The process wasn’t difficult; Needle Point grabbed their photo albums, and after a split second of hesitation, dashed into Emberglow’s old room, emerging with two items: the purple velvet belt with two cutie mark medallions, all that was left of Emberglow’s old dress, and an old carved toy of an armored pegasus.  Textile retrieved his wife’s journal, his favorite pair of scissors, and his own idea sketchbook.  After a moment of his own hesitation, he retrieved his worn, battered copy of the Book of the Saints.  It seemed odd, bringing the holy book when he was knowingly running towards a den of heretics, but he couldn’t part with it.

            	When Textile and Needle Point, both terrified and panting, made it back down to their sales floor, Bubblegum had changed her clothing into something a little more practical; it wasn’t armor, but she was covered from head to hoof in black cloth, mottled with a dark gray camouflage pattern.  She wore a rune gauntlet on one hoof.

            	“You’re all ready?” Bubblegum asked, barely waiting for Needle Point’s nod.  “Good.”  Her confident smirk did a lot to shore up Textile’s own nervous terror.  “Hey, if we get out of this alive, I can show you my scars.  Ya know, where Emberglow helped patch me up.”  She hesitated, a nervous cloud over her face.  “Um, I hope it’s okay.  When your daughter saved my life, my husbands and I decided to name our son after her.  Neither Emberspark or me would be alive if it weren’t for her.” 

            	“You named your foal after our daughter?” Needle Point looked torn.  Textile wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

            	“Mm hmm,” Bubblegum said.  “Wasn’t kidding when I said I owed your kid.  Okay.  Now let’s go.”

            	“We have a back door, if we need it,” Textile said.  Bubblegum raised her gauntlet, her brow furrowed in concentration.

            	“Yeah, uh… that’ll be good.  Get in close.”  She began casting.  Needle Point stared in awe, and even Textile watched with interest.  It had been decades since his time in the military, the last time he’d seen casting up close.  “These spells will dampen noise and make us harder to see.  They’re not perfect, though.  We’ll still need to stay quiet and move quickly.”  She finished her spell, and the air seemed to waver around them.  “Now I’m not one to assume the worst, but my job is to take a blade before you do.  And I take that seriously.  So if we get found out, I’m gonna say run, and you both are gonna run, okay?

            	“If for any reason we get split up, I need you both to book it towards the mountain.  Find the train tracks and follow them until you see a tree split in two, growing around a metal wedge.  You can’t miss it.  Wait by that tree, and either I’ll catch up, or somepony from the Discordant will know to look for you.  Repeat those directions back to me.”

            	Apparently military training and conditioning never really left.  “Find the train tracks up the mountain.  Follow them until I see a tree split by a metal wedge.  Wait for further instructions.”

            	“Good.  Hopefully I won’t die, though, so it won’t matter.  C’mon, show me to that back door.”

            	The back door exited into a narrow alleyway that serviced all the stores on the north end of the street.  The residents made sure to keep it clean and clear of garbage.

            	Bubblegum went first, checking both directions before motioning them out into the alley.  Textile and Needle Point followed behind.  Needle’s face was awash with anxiety, but she smiled a little when he put a hoof on her barrel.  Side by side they followed the strange Knight into the dark alley.

            	The silence of the city was sinister.  The sun had only just set, but ponies had been retiring earlier in order to escape the growing cold.  The snow in the alley even served to muffle their hoofsteps, leaving only the crunch of compacting snow to announce their passage. 

            	They only made it as far as the end of the block, where the alleyway met Diamond Street, when Bubblegum pulled up short.  She held a hoof to her lips, then pointed down at the snow where the street met the alley.  It was dark, nearly impossible to see in the shadows of the buildings around them, but Textile stepped forward to see what she was pointing at.

            	The snow was churned up, with dozens of hoofprints.  It was as if there had been a fight.  Textile nearly gasped when he noticed something else; dark splashes of something against the white snow.

            	“Blood?” Textile whispered, and Bubblegum nodded, holding a hoof to his lips.  She motioned for them both to crouch down, and she looked all around, both directions up and down the street.  And then she looked up.

            	Textile heard the whisper of feathers in the air, and jerked his head up, shoving Needle Point behind him protectively.  It was a Knight, a pegasus, who landed in the alley behind them.  He wore white armor, only with Saint Fluttershy’s cutie mark painted on his flanks.  Bubblegum jumped in front of both of them.

            	“Peace.  Peace!” the Knight whispered harshly.

            	“Who the buck are you?” Bubblegum snarled.

            	“My name is Tir.  Knight Angelic.  Looks like we both had the same idea.”  Textile could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

            	“Knights Angelic?” Bubblegum snarled.  “No such thing.”

            	“We’re pretty new,” the Knight said nervously.  “Um.  We don’t have time.  You still have to get the innocents to safety.  We’ve cleared the path.”

            	“Who are you?  Are you on our side?”

            	“We’re on the side of peace.  Nothing more or less,” Tir said.  “Now hurry.  Me and mine will watch from the skies.  We have a ride for you already.  We’re going to take you all back to Lady Emberglow.”
> Chapter 62
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 62


Emergency report sent by dragonfire scroll, from Wonderbolt Major Chipped Paint, Knights Adamant, to High General North Wind.

Forwarded from General Wind to Grand Master Steadfast Word

General-

I regret to inform you of the first attack by foreign soldiers on Equestrian soil in centuries.

As you know, I have been tasked with command of the garrison at a town called Sweethaven, a tiny little community with nothing of note or importance other than a shrine of some significance to pilgrims of the Knights Radiant, as well as their hospital and convent.

At one point, the community was home to a large population of zebras.  After several altercations with Knights, they left without warning about five years ago.

Two days past, I received a note from an individual calling himself ‘Sir Zamiss Kavalah of the Knights of the Mother’.  He claimed that Sweethaven was his home, that he would be returning soon, and that he did not wish a fight, though he would bring one if I did not allow him and his Knights to enter town peacefully.

To be honest, the entire thing sounded like madness.  But I try to be cautious by nature.  I ordered my garrison to stand on alert, and I informed the Lady Superior at the Radiant convent, Lady Juniper Brightbush.  She agreed to prepare her sisters to receive any wounded.

The strange Knights arrived when promised.  There were far more than I expected.  I had instructed our marines to watch the harbor for the arrival of any ships, but they instead had crept through the woods to approach the town without being noticed.  They outnumbered us; I only have ten Knights at my command, and less than a hundred marines.  They had one Knight for every one of my unenhanced soldiers.  Still, we would not leave the town defenseless.

The Knight who’d sent me the note, Sir Zamis, was a giant of a zebra in gray-black armor.  He pointed his staff at me and demanded that we vacate.  I held firm.

Sir, I have no words to defend our performance.  The best I could say is that we tried our utmost.  We attempted to draw any fighting away from the town and the civilians, and I did what I could to minimize casualties in a fighting retreat.

I lost two Knights, seven marines, and the town itself.  Three of my Knights and a dozen marines are now prisoners of the zebras, held captive within the town.  But the worst part is how Lady Superior Juniper and her Knights Radiant acted.

At the start of the battle I ordered her to muster her Knights to aid us.  There were, by my accounting, a permanent station of four Radiants plus seven pilgrims in residence.  In return, I received a response that was nothing short of heresy.

She informed me that the Knights Radiant had changed, sir.  That they no longer participated in any conflict, except to defend their own lives.  They said they would be on hoof to heal the wounded of either side, but would not bear arms for or against the zebras. 

As I write this report, my surviving scouts have returned with reports from Sweethaven.  Lady Brightbush and her ponies are true to their word; with far-seeing spells we have confirmed that they are healing the wounded zebra Knights as well as the prisoners taken from among my own ponies.

My scouts reported one more disturbing detail: Lady Brightbush, and one of the zebra Knights, a mare no less, exchanging displays of romantic affection.  It seems overkill to lump one more heresy on top of those she has already committed, but it may serve to further explain her actions.

Enclosed are the death warrants signed for both Lady Superior Juniper Brightbush and Lady Vanilla Chai, her executive officer.  I hesitate to condemn the others under their command; perhaps they are merely following orders, and some leniency is warranted.  I shall leave that determination to others.

I await further instructions from a camp a few miles north of the lost town.  Please forward this report to the Knights Mystic. Their insight will be valuable here.

Pray for us,

Sir Chipped Paint

The response is also attached

Major Chip-

As per your request, I have forwarded your report to Grand Master Steadfast Word.  However, you shall need to trust in your own instincts.  Your Radiants are not the only ponies in white to go rogue; the entire order has chosen to walk their own path, and our Mystic brothers are busy dealing with that concern.

If you believe the town can be retaken, certainly do so.  Otherwise, hold your position and don’t let the zebra Knights advance any further into Equestrian territory.  Further instructions will come soon. 

General North Wind

Old Canterlot, 1113 AF

“There’s a wealth of supplies here,” Colibri was saying, as Rarity sipped at a mug of coffee floating in the air in front of her.  She frowned and set it down, reaching for the cream again.  Instant coffee.  A scandal.  “All sorts of armor and weapons and military equipment.”

“And food, darling?” Rarity asked, pouring another tablespoon of cream into the golden brown liquid.  “We lost a good bit of supplies when we left the ruined train behind.”

“There’s some, but not much,” Colibri said, shuffling her papers around and sliding one across the desk to Rarity.  “The school here relies on monthly supply drops from New Canterlot.  And adding several dozen prisoners isn’t going to help those supplies last.”

“I don’t suppose we could set them free,” Rarity mumbled.

Colibri shrugged.  “Outside my job description.  But yes, they’re a drain on our resources.  I’d say we have a few weeks before we have to start thinking about rationing.”

“Well, we weren’t planning on staying forever,” Rarity said.  “Just long enough to find the Element of Magic and resolve… well, everything.”

If she was being honest, the small bit of the courtyard she could see from outside the tent wasn’t that wintery.  The snowfall had slowed to a casual, almost beautiful drifting of twinkling snow.  Like a pleasant winter’s day, not too cold, perfect for foals to make snowponies in, or for a young couple to take a romantic winter wonderland stroll.

Something in her expression must have tipped off her train of thought, because Colibri had stopped, smirking a little.

“Are you okay, Marchioness?” Colibri asked.  “You’re drifting off.”

“Just worried about Emberglow, is all,” Rarity said.  “Coming back here is troubling her, of course.”  It wasn’t just Emberglow.  She’d seen the same look of mixed awe and regret on many of the Knights Discordant who had once been loyal Diarchy Knights as they walked around the palace complex.  There was a sort of daze present in their movements. 

Rarity wasn’t sure she quite understood; she had an entirely different reaction to walking these grounds.

Once, they had been so beautiful.  Gardens and pathways, full of greenery and color and light.  White alabaster stone, where Celestia and Luna trod with guards and nobles and courtiers.

Now, everything but the palace itself had been… repurposed.  There was a militarism about the complex that turned Rarity’s stomach.  The Diarchy had taken a beautiful flower and turned it into a brick.

“I get that,” Colibri said.  “It’s weird for a lot of us.  I lived in the city down below, until I was arrested and hauled off.  I’d often look up here and wonder what it was like.  Now?  It all seems so mundane.”

“Mundane?” Rarity said. She moved over to the edge of the tent, glancing out into the courtyard.

Outside in the snow, things were quite busy.  Ponies in Discordant yellow or Crystal Empire lavender moved about, hauling supplies, setting up tents, repairing the wall, and patrolling.  There was no sign of any of the prisoners; the squires were being held in the palace itself, and the Knights were confined within the barracks that served as the Knights Adamant headquarters, a blocky brick building placed right where Celestia’s swan pool had once lain.

“I have a hard time seeing any of this as mundane,” Rarity said, with some bitterness.

“Oh, that’s right.” Colibri moved right next to her and laid a comforting hoof on her shoulder.  “You saw this place in its prime, didn’t you?”

“I did, yes,” Rarity said with a sigh.  “You would have loved it, darling.  The entire place was a garden.  Even during winter you would have seen ice sculptures between snow-frosted trees.  Twilight even told me once that the princesses invited foals onto the grounds, because Luna particularly loved the sounds of children capering about in the snow, playing and tussling, throwing snowballs and building forts.”

“They did that?” Colibri asked.  “Like, literal goddesses would invite normal ponies into their home just to…” Her eyes were wide with awe.

“They would,” Rarity said.  “Celestia and Luna always wanted to feel connected to all of the rest of us.  Luna especially struggled with it.  It… caused her some distress when she felt isolated or elevated above everypony else.”

“That’s…”

Colibri trailed off, and Rarity glanced back at her.  The confusion in her expression was understandable.  For years, these ponies had worshiped Luna and Celestia as literal unknowable goddesses, after all.

“Hard to wrap your head around?” Rarity finished.  “I understand, darling.  But I’ve seen you talking to Princess Flurry.  Speaking with the Princesses Celestia and Luna was no different, really.”

“Yes, but… Princess Flurry is real,” Colibri said.  Rarity arched one eyebrow, and Colibri blushed.  “Well, she is!  C-C-Celestia and Luna are just… legends.”

“They were real once, too,” Rarity said, gulping over the empty pang that suddenly cut through her heart.  She looked up towards the palace, to the empty balcony where she once stood beside Princess Twilight after Twilight’s ascension, announced to the entire city.  She cleared her throat.  “Sorry.  My reminiscing interrupted your report.”

“Right,” Colibri said.  “Well, besides the food, the items of most interest to us are probably the stash of unpainted Knight armor, ready to be repurposed for our own uses.  At least fifty sets.  And… there was one more thing I found.  This is where they keep the potions of Knighthood.”

The cold that shot up Rarity’s spine had nothing to do with the snow.  “It is?”  She tasted bile in the back of her throat.  “Th-that makes sense, I suppose.  They would have to be somewhere.  And this is where the Knights are made, after all.”  She kept her voice even.

“Yes,” Colibri said, and Rarity heard the fear and disgust in her own voice.  “I could destroy them all.  Marchioness, I did an inventory.  There’s one hundred and seven potions in total.”

A hundred and seven.  For a moment, it was as if the voices of a hundred and seven lost unicorn foals screamed in Rarity’s ears.  She wanted to smash them, to stomp them to bits until the glass was ground to sand and the blood of the broken innocents no longer cried out for vengeance.

“O-or,” Colibri ventured, and Rarity shuddered.

Or.

Could she possibly let such a resource go to waste?  She felt sick even thinking of it.  But those foals had already passed on. Wouldn’t it be wise to…

“Excuse me a m-moment, darling, I must…”

That was all Rarity could manage before she had to sprint over to the quartermaster’s tent’s trash bin and do something rather unladylike.  Many times.

When she was done, Colibri was standing there, tears in her eyes and a look of pure sympathy on her face.  She handed Rarity a damp cloth, and Rarity nodded gratefully as she wiped her mouth.

“I don’t think you’ll have to make that decision,” Colibri said.  “Just… pass it up the line.  Heartwing or Princess Flurry can sort it out.”

“Thank you, darling.”  It felt like a coward’s way out, but Rarity couldn’t handle more than that now.  “I’ll pass on the information.  Do you know where Heartwing is currently?”

“Being fitted for a temporary prosthesis at the medic tent, I think,” Colibri said.  “I’ll give you the rest of my inventory report for you to pass on, if you’d like.”

“That would be wonderful, darling.  Thank you again.”  There was a part of her that hoped Emberglow would be at the medic tent as well.  She wasn’t supposed to be; after Princess Flurry’s announcement and the radio broadcast, Emberglow had just seemed drained.  Rarity had pulled rank as the acting commander under Princess Flurry and sent her to go rest.

That was yesterday evening, though.  And it was now morning.  Rarity had brought her breakfast and soundly ordered her to relax as much as she could, but she’d seen the hint of rebellion sparkling in Emberglow’s eye.  And if a medic evading orders was going to be anywhere, it would be the medic tent, right?

“Oh!  One more thing.” Colibri’s voice intruded on her thoughts, and Rarity froze.  More bad news?  It must have shown in her face, because Colibri held up her hooves.  “Nothing scary.  A message from my little sister.”

Colibri produced a small box, simple, and wrapped in brown paper.  Rarity eyed it curiously.  She hadn’t thought much about Colibri’s sister Kleio recently.  But she had a good idea of what was in the box.

“She finished it!” Rarity said, taking the box and pulling off the paper.  Colibri watched, curious.

“What did you have Kleio make for you?” she asked.  Rarity smiled as she opened the wooden lid, revealing a small necklace.  “Oh!  Is that a diamond?”

“No,” Rarity said, lifting the faceted blue teardrop, hanging from a gold chain. “It’s unique.”  She sniffed, blinking suddenly misty eyes.  “The last message from a very old friend.”

“Oh,” Colibri said awkwardly.  

“A reminder, I hope,” Rarity said, as she placed the necklace around her neck, and fastened the clasp in the back with her magic.  The blue stood out boldly against the pristine white of her fur.  “That hope can be found, even in the strangest of places.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it someday,” Colibri said softly.  “Maybe when this is all over.”

“It’s a promise, darling.”  There was a pessimistic part of her that wondered if it would ever be over.  

Rarity almost laughed at her own thoughts.  The whole point of the necklace was to give hope, not wallow in her dark thoughts.  Besides, a military tent was not the proper setting for wallowing.  She brushed the teardrop gem with one hoof and smiled, turning once more for the tent door.

“Stay safe out there, Lady Rarity,” Colibri said, passing over the reports Rarity would be taking to Heartwing.  “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

“You too, Miss Colibri,” Rarity said with a winning smile.  Her horn blazed to life as she pulled her faux fur lined hood over her ears, and she stepped out of the quartermaster’s tent.

There were two unicorns in Empire armor waiting for her.  They saluted and fell into step on either side of her.

“Thank you for waiting, Trick Shot, Kite Dancer.”  Rarity said to the pair.  She’d always thought that remembering ponies’ names was an important duty of an employer.  Or a military commander, in this case.  Besides, the two Squad Cashmere unicorns were her comrades-in-arms, now.  There was a bond between them.

“Where to next, Marchioness?” Trick Shot asked, his horn already alight and at the ready.  All of her unicorns had insisted, somewhat to Rarity’s chagrin, that in the absence of her personal security detail, they would be seeing to her safety during this expedition.  Many of them, Trick Shot included, had confided in her that they intended on retiring from the military and taking a position in her house guard when this was all over.

“To the medic tent.  I wish to check on Sir Heartwing, and to see if my mischievous marefriend is following orders.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Trick Shot said.

Rarity found the unicorns’ presence both calming and disturbing; it had only been just over a day since the battle for the palace, but she was still seeing enemies everywhere she looked.  Having the guards so close did help to make her feel protected.  But their presence also seemed to remind her of the looming danger.

The current state of the palace didn’t help either.  There were soldiers and Knights everywhere.  Each one moved at a trot, with a sense of urgency.  They were settling in for the next attack, the next action, the next fight.  Everypony had a job to do, and every one of those jobs was preparing for the blood and death in the coming days ahead.

Rarity’s position meant that throughout the day, several ponies inevitably came looking for her.  Command was a challenge, to be sure, but Rarity had experience being a boss.  This was not much different.

Except she was producing war, not haute couture.

Soldiers approached, always stopped by her guards, to offer well-wishes, salutes, and even other reports.  There was a headcount of the prisoners they had. There was a casualty report.  The Discordant who had joined them at the bottom of the hill had movement reports of what the other Discordant were up to in the Diarchy’s heartlands.  There were even reports from long-range sentries, watching for activity from the city that spread out at the foot of the mountain.

Each time Rarity paused, promising the pony she would forward the report on to Heartwing.  Each time she wondered when he’d be taking the reins of this force again.

It was a bittersweet thought, and even that surprised Rarity.  She had no business being on a battlefield, commanding soldiers, managing supply chains, dealing with prisoners.  It wasn’t a boutique.  There was no pencil or idea pad in front of her, no ponnequin standing as a blank canvas ready to receive her inspiration.

But command had been a different kind of creativity.  Weaving together a hundred threads of personnel, supplies, weapons, tactics, intelligence, and other elements into a winning battlefield strategy had challenged her mind and awoken her passion.

“Oh my, that’s a stretch, isn’t it?” she snorted out loud, voicing her thoughts.  “Comparing a battlefield to a design studio.”

Her guards, of course, stayed wisely silent.

The Discordant medics had set up their tent right outside the small building called the Shrine of the Generous.  Rarity hadn’t mustered the courage to look inside yet, but she knew from Emberglow that it was the headquarters of the Knights Radiant here in Old Canterlot.  A building bearing her cutie mark and her name, and she was too afraid to look inside. 

The few Radiants who had been here when the palace had fallen had been moved to the barracks with the rest of the prisoners.  They’d gone without complaint, or so Rarity had heard; she’d not wished to meet a bunch of Knights wearing her colors.

Rarity lit her horn, moving the tent flap aside with her magic.  Considering the prisoners they held, and where she stood, she felt it appropriate to flaunt herself just a little.  Indeed, her casual telekinesis evoked some groans from the collection of wounded Diarchy Knights and squires within.  She ignored them, looking around the room until she found Heartwing.

He was sitting up, resting on Terminus’ bed.  On one side was the head medic, a yellow pegasus named Life Flight whom Rarity had met briefly yesterday.  She was busy fitting him with a prosthetic.  On his other side, Emberglow was holding Heartwing up with a steadying hoof.

“Hello, darlings,” Rarity greeted, and Emberglow jumped, wings flipping out in panic.

“I’m resting, I’m resting!” she blurted, and Rarity couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow, even while she hid her smile behind her hoof.  Terminus and Heartwing were not so discreet; both of them laughed at Emberglow’s reaction, while the mare blushed.

“She’s being good, L-Lady Rarity,” Life Flight said.  “She was just chatting with Sir Heartwing when she offered to help me with his prosthetic fitting.”

“I see,” Rarity said, her amusement bubbling forth, teasing at the corners of her muzzle.  “Well, if you say so.  Heartwing, darling, I have several reports.  On supplies, prisoners, scouting, and so forth.”

Her stomach roiled when she thought about what one of those reports was actually about.  Best to press forward, and rip the metaphorical bandage off.

“There is one item of particular significance,” Rarity said, amazed that her voice was so even.  “Colibri found a hundred and seven potions.  The ones that make ponies into Knights.”

Everypony sucked in a quick breath. Heartwing nodded grimly.

“I thought I’d leave the decision of what to do with them up to you,” Rarity said. It seemed cowardly.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Heartwing said.  “I understand.”

There was sympathy in all of the faces around her.

“No no, I shouldn’t shy away from the hard decisions,” Rarity said, even as she felt nauseous.

“Very well then, Rarity, what do you think we should do with the potions?” Heartwing evenly asked.

Rarity had been half-expecting the question, but she still dreaded it.  She stared at Heartwing as the seconds ticked on.  He met her gaze, understanding but firm.

The silence dragged.  Nopony wanted to speak first.  Rarity’s stomach roiled.

Finally Heartwing sighed.  “Sorry.  I shouldn’t put you on the spot like that.  Thank you for letting me know about them, Rarity.  I’ll take care of them.”

“You mean you’ll use them,” Rarity said.  Even to her, it sounded like an accusation.

“Yes, Rarity.  I’m going to use them.  A hundred and seven more Knights to our side?” Even he looked grim.  “I… I’ve had to use what resources I can.  Even very unsavory ones, at times.  At least my Knights will know what they’re doing before they drink.”

“You mean they willingly…”

“Yes,” Terminus interrupted.  “I knew.  We produce what potions we can the safe way.  But we’ve stolen potions from the enemy before.  Deny them a resource while adding to our own ranks.”

He looked determined, while Heartwing glanced away.  Life Flight had paused in her task, watching Heartwing with worry.  Even Emberglow looked stricken.

“Love, you don’t have to make that choice,” Terminus said.  “Benefit of not being the pony in charge any longer.”

“But will Flurry make the right choice?” Heartwing sighed.  “I don’t want their sacrifice to go to waste.”

“But the source…”

“Heartwing isn’t thinking about the source,” Emberglow whispered.  “He’s thinking about how many more lives will be saved if we had a hundred and seven more Knights.  That’s… that’s a great deal, Rarity.”

But even she sounded horrified at the prospect.

“It’s out of your hooves, Rarity.  Mine too,” Heartwing said.

Nopony liked that either.  Another grim silence followed.  Suddenly Rarity wanted to be anywhere else.

“W-well, Heartwing, I just wanted to leave you with the current reports.  And make sure somepony was following their relaxation orders.”

“I’m just about finished,” Life Flight said softly, tightening the last of the straps that would attach the wooden prosthetic to Heartwing’s leghoof.  “Then there’s some more physical therapy.  You can escort Lady Emberglow right to her tent if you think she’s not resting enough.”

It was said respectfully, but there was an element in her tone that reminded Rarity of her own mother.  She managed a smile.  “Very well, doctor.  Emberglow?  Shall we?”

She turned to leave without looking to make sure her marefriend was following.  Rarity knew she would be anyways.  Her unicorns took up position beside the two of them, like silent shadows.

“So,” she began.  It was the same tone of voice she’d use when Sweetie Belle had done something she obviously knew was wrong. 

“I was taking it easy,” Emberglow muttered from right behind her.

“You were working.  When I expressly told you that you needed to rest.  Preferably in our tent.”  Rarity stopped so that Emberglow could catch up, and the two of them walked side by side.  Rarity’s tone softened, and she leaned over to bump Emberglow with her hip.  “You’re not a machine, darling.  And yesterday was difficult for you.”

The broadcasts had been yesterday.  First the one with Flurry Heart’s magic over the whole city.  And then Emberglow’s more discreet broadcast over pirate radio.

“I tried, honestly,” Emberglow said.  “I laid down in the tent and… and I stared at the ceiling all night long.”

“I know,” Rarity said.  “I was there, remember?”

They both knew exactly what Emberglow was worried about.

“So since I’m escorting you back to make sure you actually rest, would you like to talk about it?  Or should we skip straight to the part where we’re both eating unhealthy amounts of ice cream and crying together?”

Emberglow snorted with laughter.  “We can just talk about it.”

“Worrying about my figure and my flank already, are you darling?” Rarity teased, swishing her tail to brush against Emberglow.  Emberglow laughed again, but it was a little weak.  “Fine.  It’s not hard to see what you’re worried about, Emberglow.  But you told me yourself just how competent Bubblegum is.  Heartwing has the utmost confidence in her too.”

“It’s not…” Emberglow protested, turning to the west to glance towards New Canterlot City down below the mountain.  “I know they’ll be safe.”  She didn’t sound very confident, so Rarity stopped and turned to look at her.

“Emberglow,” Rarity said gently.

“They will be fine,” Emberglow said, more strongly.  “They have to be.  They’re innocent.  They’ve done absolutely nothing wrong!”

She stomped a hoof in the snowy ground for emphasis. 

“And that’s not even everything!  I get why I can’t be the one that makes sure they’re safe, but it still hurts that I can’t protect my own family!” she snarled.  “And sure, Bubblegum is amazing.  They’re going to be safe.  But then what happens next?  Rarity, I came out to my parents!  Over the radio!”

She was breathing hard, eyes wide with panic.  Rarity moved over to wrap a hoof around her shoulder, moving slowly as she guided her distraught marefriend back to their tent.

“I’ve never had that conversation with them face-to-face, Rarity,” Emberglow continued, allowing herself to be herded.  “They had no idea!  You heard what I said on the radio… my mom always wanted grandfoals!  And the most important conversation I’ve ever had with them?  That I ever could have with them?  I took the coward’s way out and had it one-way from miles away!  I’m a coward, I’m weak, I’m…”

“You’re being silly,” Rarity tapped her on the nose with one hoof.  “Coming out is a personal thing.  And you had to do it in a way where you felt comfortable and in control.  You are not a coward, darling.  You’re a brave, brilliant, beautiful mare.”

“But that’s not even all of it!” Emberglow cried out.  They reached the tent.  It looked no different from any of the other tents; Rarity had wanted to complain, but then Lofty had explained the strategic importance of not having the commander’s quarters stand out from everypony else’s.  Still, if they were going to be here for any length of time, she’d need to at least decorate the interior.

“Well, tell me the rest.  After you’ve taken off your clothes and gotten under the covers.”

She pulled the flap aside and pushed Emberglow in, while their guards took up post outside. 

“Y-you mean…”

“Talk while you undress,” Rarity said firmly.  She felt her cheeks heating a little, but she ignored it.  So what if there was an ulterior motive here?  “You’re getting bed rest one way or the other.  And if you don’t, I’ll call Medic Life Flight in here to sedate you with one of those wonderful anesthesia spells.  But if you play nice I have a bit of time to cuddle before I must get back to work.”

Emberglow’s mind was in the same place hers was, because her own face was much pinker than usual.

“Okay.  You win.”  She began to undo the ties on her robes, slipping it over her head.  She folded it neatly, setting it beside the bedroll they shared.

Rarity took a moment to admire the lean muscle along her limbs, her sides, and her flank.  She even let her gaze linger on the scars along Emberglow’s barrel; scars she’d earned for upholding her truth.  Scars that wrote a story of pain.  Rarity leaned over and kissed one of them, earning a surprised glance from Emberglow.

“What was that for?”

“You deserve it,” Rarity said.  “Now, lay down on top of the blankets, and tell me what really has you worried.”

Emberglow did as she was told, even closing her eyes.

“Spread your wings, darling.  Now, I know we’re in a camp in the middle of a snowy garden in this catastrophe of a palace, but I’m going to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.”

“Okay,” Emberglow said, spreading out her wings.  Rarity took a moment to marvel in the musculature along Emberglow’s feathery limbs, and she made sure to appreciate them via touch, too, running her hooves along the feathers until Emberglow was squirming and let out a shudder. 

She started at the base of Emberglow’s wings, massaging the muscles there with her hooves, slowly rubbing and working out the kinks and hard spots.

“Rarity, you don’t have to…”

“I most certainly do,” Rarity protested.

“No, I mean, you have more important…”

“There is nothing more important to me in the entire world than this, right now.” Rarity cut her off again.  “Now.  Talk.”

“It’s my parents,” Emberglow said.  Rarity nodded as if this weren’t already apparent.  “I just… of course I’m terrified they’re going to be hurt.  And Bubblegum, too.  But… Rarity, what in the world do I say to them when they get here?”

Rarity smiled, leaning down to gently kiss Emberglow’s ears, even as her horn lit and she resumed the massage, glowing blue lines of force gently caressing her marefriend.  Emberglow shuddered again.

“Well, what you tell them is the truth, darling,” she said.  She knew it wasn’t that simple.  Emberglow probably did too.  But it wasn’t the time to worry about that for now.  Emberglow turned her face so she could meet Rarity’s lips with her own, and before too long neither of them was thinking about anything besides each other.


*   *   *   *   *


Perhaps the massage had gotten a touch more heated than Rarity had expected.

Well, if Rarity was being honest, it had gotten a great deal more heated than she had expected, but she didn’t mind in the slightest.

Emberglow was dozing, and Rarity absolutely did not wish to wake her.  Very carefully she extracted herself from the taller mare’s hooves, making sure to gently rearrange the blankets so the cold wouldn’t wake her, either.  Emberglow muttered something in her sleep, and with a pang, Rarity realized that Topaz probably wouldn’t be there to help defend Emberglow from her nightmares.  Topaz was likely awake, after all.

“Princess Luna, if you’re here,” Rarity whispered.  “Keep an eye on her, would you please?  The poor dear was rather worked up about coming out to her parents.  She needs all the rest she can get.”

Rarity’s own clothing was scattered a bit across the tent, and she took a moment to dress herself.  She would have liked to have worn a nice coat, perhaps a complementary piece to the same beautiful one she’d gifted to Emberglow, but by Heartwing’s orders she had to wear armor.  She glanced with some distaste at the ensemble  of metal plates.

“You are in desperate need of a glow up, darling,” she told the armor.  “Soon.”

Still, it was practical fashion at least.  She donned the armor as quietly as she could and slipped out of the tent.

Her guards were there, standing at attention just like when they’d entered.  Both Trick Shot and Kite Dancer wore masks of professionalism, cracked only by the small smirk on Trick’s muzzle.

“Well done, ma’am,” he whispered, his eyes still alert.

Rarity let out a laugh of her own amusement, even though her cheeks heated a little. “Sorry.  I was a little… caught up in the moment.”

“You both deserved a break.  And it’s nice to see the officers enjoying themselves.  Good for morale.”

“See?” Rarity asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Well,” Trick demurred.  “Hear, rather.”

“Quite.”  Rarity couldn’t find it in herself to be too embarrassed, though she resolved to be a touch more discrete next time.  Sound canceling spells, perhaps.  “One of you will need to stay at the tent to watch over Lady Emberglow.  She needs her rest; yesterday was difficult, what with her broadcast.”

“With all due respect, Lady Rarity,” Trick said.  “It was difficult for you, too.  Maybe you should keep resting with her.”

“Ah,” Rarity said.  “It was a stressful ordeal for myself, as well.”

She thought about the spell, about the moment of gut-wrenching, ice-cold terror right before she began speaking.  Right before all of New Canterlot City heard her voice for the first time.  She recalled the moment of release, like a rubber band snapping, as soon as she’d finished speaking.

But there was the catharsis, too.  Finally she was no longer hiding in the shadows.  She had stepped into the light and had cast her lot into the open.  There was a great relief to it all.

“Thank you for worrying about me,” Rarity continued.  “But I think I shall be just fine, darlings.  I wish to check on my friends.”

She meant it, too.  She was fine.  Besides, her little dalliance with Emberglow had probably taken a bit more time than she had intended.  Now it was time to be seen; the magical broadcast was only one part of Flurry and Heartwing’s plan. That plan included being a visible and bold part of the mission here.

“Very well, ma’am,” Trick said, and Kite Dancer nodded.  “I’ll stick with you.  Kite will watch over Lady Emberglow.”

“Encourage her to sleep as long as she needs to, please.  If she wakes.”  Rarity knew it would be pointless.  Emberglow liked to be acting, not resting.  But she had to try.  “Do you happen to know where Topaz Glitter or Lofty Tale are currently?”

Rarity’s duties at the moment besides simply being seen were few.  Other ponies might have been frustrated to be a figurehead in that fashion, but Rarity didn’t mind in the slightest.  She was more than happy to be the center of attention, especially if it helped their cause.

“The duchess, I believe, is meeting with Princess Flurry,” Trick said.  There was a note in his voice, hiding just behind the professional demeanor, that let Rarity know exactly what kind of meeting they were having.  It was obvious that Topaz loved and respected Flurry a great deal.  It was also obvious they didn’t often get along.

“What are they arguing about this time?” Rarity asked with a sigh.

Trick smirked just a little.  “Something about prisoner security,” he said.  “Because of the breakout we had just after we took the palace.”

“I see.” Rarity nodded grimly.  It had turned out to be pointless.  Yes, one of the pegasus squires had gotten loose and flown back to New Canterlot City.  Yes, it had accelerated their timeline a little.  But in the end it hadn’t mattered much.  “Do you know exactly what is being debated?”

“Above my paygrade, Lady Rarity,” Trick said, and Rarity held back another sigh.

“Very well.  What about her fiancé?”

“On the walls.  His unit is on sentry duty, I think.”

“Thank you, Trick.  We shall check on Sir Lofty, then.”

Rarity was of two minds about the walls around the palace.  On one hoof, it was lovely that they hadn’t had to blow them down in their assault.  On the other hoof, seeing fortress style fortifications around Princess Celestia’s palace made her frown.  It wasn’t what this place was supposed to be for, after all, quite the opposite really.  But she kept her disapproval off her face, lest the soldiers see.

There were soldiers and Knights all over the towers and parapets; down below, even more soldiers worked to shore up the very cracks and bolt-holes that Rarity and her troops had used to gain ingress.  She could hear the banging of hammers and the hawing of saws as she approached one of the towers.

Guards stationed at the tower doors saluted as she passed, and she trotted up the stairs to the narrow walkway up above.

When she reached the top, Rarity took a moment to take in the view.  Up high on the walls she could see the flurry of activity below in the palace grounds.

On the other side, though, over the thick battlement that sat atop the walls, she could see the hints of the city down below, hidden by the gray fog of distant clouds and snowfall.

Rarity felt an ominous shiver go up her spine, and for a moment wished for a thicker coat.  That strange, beautiful, baleful, distant city, spread out below her, seemed to loom in her mind.  War and blood were coming, and Canterlot Palace would be its origin.

“It’s strange,” Trick said from next to her.  “Seeing it up close like this.”

They most certainly were not up close, but Rarity knew what he meant by that.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know much of your personal history.  You weren’t born there, were you?”

“Nope,” Trick said, pointing to his horn.  “I was born on a boat, actually.  It was lucky.  My mom and dad both were getting smuggled out, first to the zebra republic, then from there to the Empire.  They were both terrified of what might happen if she had a unicorn.”  He smirked a little.  “And they did.  But I heard stories.  They used to live there.  And they miss it.  It’s odd.  Something so… stifling and awful, and yet somehow some ponies still managed to be happy there.”

“Like my Emberglow,” Rarity said softly.

Trick nodded.  “It’s gonna be hard.  We tell ourselves we’re doing all this for their benefit, but they’re going to hate us for it.”

Rarity didn’t have a good response to that.  She gazed out over the gray-draped city, imagining the ponies there.  Living and working and struggling and believing.  They were probably terrified now.  Hiding in their homes from the snow and from the terror up above.

There was a part of Rarity that didn’t want to be generous to the ponies down below.  They were bigots.  They had silently stood by and allowed the massacre of unicorns.  Unicorn foals.  They spewed hate and fury against ponies like her, and like Emberglow.  Ponies who were different.  Why should good ponies have to spill their blood to save the miserable creatures beneath them?

It was a bitter thought, and for a moment Rarity hung onto it, clung to it like a security blanket.  She wanted to wrap herself in righteous anger and forget wars, forget vile potions, forget unicorn-hating cities.  And certainly forget the ponies that let themselves be led blindly by such lies.

The moment didn’t last long.  It couldn’t.

“We need to find Sir Lofty,” Rarity said, a little breathlessly.  A conversation with the Element of Generosity was probably exactly what she needed right now.

Trick Shot flagged down one of the patrolling sentries, and after a quick, hushed conversation they set out along the battlement towards the southeastern-most tower.  Rarity and Trick Shot trotted past more sentries on watch, their own focus and attention rooted on the ruined city that spread out beneath the walls.  There were even more soldiers patrolling the ruins, Rarity knew; they wouldn’t allow another force to do exactly what hers had done.

Hers.  She was already in the habit of thinking of the army possessively.  She’d only been in command a few days while Heartwing was wounded.  The idea wasn’t exactly comfortable.

The southeast tower was the best vantage point from which to see incoming airships or pegasi scouts.  It was no wonder Lofty had put himself here; he seemed the type to want to be on the front lines.  There was another short set of steps up to the circular apex of the tower, and then Rarity was in the unit’s observation post.

Lofty Tale was deep in conversation with another pony, a unicorn stallion in a white medic’s uniform with tan fur and a blue mane.  The unicorn held a thermos aloft in the blue glow of his magic, and was pouring something from it into a teacup that Lofty was holding.  When he saw Rarity approaching his eyes widened.

“Lady Rarity.  Good morning,” Lofty said with a little bow, while his unicorn companion stared at her, speechless.  “Medic Morning Blend and I were just sharing some tea.  Join us.”

The medic blinked at Rarity, and she had to suppress a smile.  She was used to this sort of reaction now, even though most, if not all, Discordants knew about her existence.  It was still jarring to see a living legend walking about up close for the first time, after all.

“Tea sounds lovely, darling,” Rarity said graciously, even as Trick Shot took up watch at the head of the stairs.

The medic worriedly looked between Rarity, Lofty, and the two teacups he’d apparently brought with him.  “I’ll… go get another cup!” he said in a rush, before scrambling past Trick Shot and down the stairs.

“Oh, you don’t have to, I…” Rarity trailed off as soon as the medic was out of earshot.  “Very well, then.”

“You’ll be glad he went for a cup,” Lofty said with a smirk.  “It’s very good tea.”  He took a sip of his own. 

“Now don’t get me wrong, I shall always approve of a good tea break,” Rarity said, moving up alongside him to look out over the valley below.  “But the timing seems odd.”

“It was Topaz’ idea,” Lofty said, and then went quiet.  He turned to look out over the valley as well, his eyes active, darting about, scanning for oncoming danger.

“Oh?  Her idea for what?” Rarity asked, and Lofty flinched, reaching up to brush a speck of nonexistent dirt from his armor.

“I…”

Lofty took a deep breath, then scrunched his nose.  Rarity looked up; the heavy gray clouds above were starting to produce large, wet flakes of falling snow.  One landed on Rarity’s nose as well and she sneezed daintily.

“I don’t want you to think less of me,” Lofty said.  “It’s important to me that you… approve.  Because I… because of what I…”

“I understand,” Rarity said.  She didn’t want him to say it out loud either. 

There was always this wall of awkwardness between them; they never really spoke of it.  Lofty held a piece of Rarity’s past.  And while she did like the stallion a great deal, it was still…

…difficult.

“You have to know, this is a part of me I’m trying to change,” Lofty continued, still speaking to the empty air and not looking at her.  “But.  I mentioned to Topaz that I’m still struggling with… well, unicorns.”

Rarity blinked.  She hadn’t exactly been expecting this.

“But darling,” she said, trying to keep her shock in check.  “You’ve never shown any outward signs of…”

“You and Heartwing are different,” Lofty interrupted.  “I… I don’t see you as unicorns.  You’re my friends.  But every time your horns light up there’s a part of me that twists.  And it’s not fair to you.  Or Heartwing.

“But other unicorns?”  He snorted.  “It’s hard to keep the voice of my parents, my tutors, every Confessor I’ve ever had and every professor at the Seminary out of my head when I see them.  I know it’s wrong, but I’m struggling to move past it.  So Topaz suggested exposure therapy, of sorts.  Every day I invite a different unicorn to lunch, or tea, or dinner, or something else.  And then I try to get to know them.  Not as a unicorn, but as a pony.

“Because that’s what they do to you,” he continued.  “When they taught us.  You weren’t individual ponies, you were… some sort of terrifying faceless mass.  ‘The Unicorn Threat’.  Topaz says by putting a story to each face, I can start to untrain myself.  Of, you know.  The racism.”

Rarity didn’t even know what to say.  She continued staring out, silently watching the snow drift down.  For a moment, she was about to light her horn and cast a spell to shield them from the snow.  It was a natural impulse, but she hesitated.

“You think less of me, don’t you?” Lofty said grimly.  “It’s okay.”

“No, I don’t,” Rarity said, and she meant it.  “We all have our hang ups.  What you’re doing, it takes… a great deal of courage.  And a generous soul.”

“Not sure what that has to do with generosity,” Lofty said sardonically.  “But thank you.”

“So tell me about it,” Rarity said, more cheerfully.  “Who’s your newest friend?  What did you learn about him?”

“Saints, I feel like I’m giving a report in school,” he laughed.  “His name is Morning Blend.  He owns a tea shop in Angel’s Rest.  And he’s a part time medic.  He’s got a marefriend who’s one of the Knights, that’s why he signed up to tag along with this expedition.  He’s lived a difficult life; he was actually born in the Diarchy and had to be smuggled out as an infant.  I understand he even still has a sister who’s one of the Knights Radiant.”

Lofty paused, and his voice grew softer.

“He’s afraid.  Almost every day.  He’s not a soldier, he tells me.  But he just wants to help.  And it was hard for him to watch his friends and marefriend go off to fight without him, even though he’s not a Knight himself.”

Lofty waved a hoof backwards, towards the palace.  “It’s these personal stories that are helping me the most.  Each unicorn with us has their own life, their own reason for being here.  Seeing them all as individuals, just like you and Heartwing, is just what I need.”

“And they don’t mind that you’re, well…”  Rarity trailed off. 

“Using them for bias correction?” Lofty guessed, and Rarity blushed and nodded.  “I make it clear when I give the invite.  They know exactly what I’m trying to accomplish.  And most of them are enthusiastic to accept my invitations.  Topaz is a smart mare, she knew what she was doing when she suggested this idea.”

“She is.  You picked well.”

“She has a way of zeroing in on what’s making me unhappy,” Lofty’s grin became a little dazed,  “And then cutting it out like a surgeon.”

“Well, she is the Element of Laughter,” Rarity said.  “Pinkie was like that.  She had a sixth sense about it, literally.  She always seemed to know when I needed a pick-me-up bucket of ice cream, or a surprise pie in the mail.”

“Maybe you could tell her that,” Lofty said.  “I think all of us are a little worried about how we measure up to our legendary predecessors.”

Rarity moved over, putting a hoof on his shoulder.  “I couldn’t be happier with the pony bearing mine.  You will make me proud, Lofty Tale.”

Lofty opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.  He raised a hoof to wipe his wet eyes.

“Thank you, Lady Rarity.  That means a…”

He paused and narrowed his eyes.

“Do you see that?”

Rarity tried to match his gaze.

“What, darling?”

In the gray fog that filled the skies, it was hard to see anything. She lit her horn, casting a far-seeing spell.  To her right Lofty did the same with his gauntlet.

“There,” he pointed with one hoof, and her magical sight zeroed in on the object he was pointing at.  A single airship, floating up from the city towards the ruins on the heights. Towards them.

“Raise the alarm?” Rarity asked, a flutter of nervousness in her stomach.  This was it.  This was the counterattack they’d expected.

“Yes.  Not a general alarm.”  He raised his head, glancing back to one of the wall guards.  “Penny Ante!  Take a message to Princess Flurry.  A single airship approaches from the city.  Have her send reinforcements to the walls.”

“Trick Shot?” Rarity said.  “I’d like Squad Taffeta and Squad Tulle on the walls, supporting the posted sentries.  Full combat readiness.”

“I would not like leaving you without a guard, Lady Rarity,” Trick said.

“I shall guarantee her safety,” Lofty said, and Trick Shot nodded and ran off, side by side with Lofty’s subordinate.

Both of them turned back to the airship.  Lofty pursed his lips.  “I wonder why they only sent one ship.  This is strange, and I don’t like it.  They’re not even trying to hide their approach.”

“I wish I knew,” Rarity said.

“What do you think the odds are that Princess Flurry tries to fly up here and lead from the front?” Lofty asked with a sidelong smirk, and Rarity laughed.  “She seems the type.”

“She is,” Rarity said.  “Even as a tiny foal she was fearless and bold.  But she’s learned restraint in the interim, I hope.”

“I hope so as well,” Lofty said.  “I think it would break this army if she came to any more harm.  The Empire forces love her.  And the Discordant are growing to as well.  Still, if she wants to be up on this wall, you’ll tell her no, right?”

Rarity laughed.  “If I can.”

It was a nervous sort of conversation; falsely casual.  Both ponies watched the approach of the coming airship with a growing sense of dread, but without knowing who was on the mysterious ship, or why they were coming, there was little to be done.

Meanwhile, around the two of them, dozens of ponies were climbing up the towers and filling out the battlements.  Unicorns with grim expressions, Discordants in armor, and even some Empire troops armed with long rifles.  All of them nervously watching the approach of the airship.

Rarity heard a rustle of feathers and looked up to see Emberglow in the air, landing next to her.  Her armor was on and the shield of Flash Magnus was strapped to her foreleg.  Her mane hung loose, and was still a little mussed from bed. Rarity gave her a quick, tight hug, before igniting her horn and floating over one of the emergency mane ties she always kept on hoof.

For mane emergencies, of course.

“Darling, did you sleep well?” Rarity said as she helped Emberglow with her usual ponytail.  Yes, Rarity preferred Emberglow’s mane down, but in a potential tense combat situation, her usual style was probably smarter. 

Emberglow went pinker.  “It was a nice nap, thank you.”  She stretched her wings.  “What’s happening?”

“Single ship,” Lofty said.  “No escort.  Something is up.”

“Right,” Emberglow said, taking a step in front of Rarity.  Lofty noticed and smiled.

“We are ready for whatever they throw at us,” he said, motioning behind them.  Rarity turned to look.

In the center of the palace courtyard, Flurry Heart stood, surrounded by several members of Squad Wool.  She could even make out Heartwing standing next to the princess.  He awkwardly leaned on his good foreleg, his prosthetic hovering above the ground slightly.

“Be right back, darling,” Rarity said, giving Emberglow a quick peck on the cheek and reveling in her sudden surprised look.  Her horn blazed for a second and she teleported, reappearing beside Princess Flurry, much to the consternation of the Princess’ guards. 

“Report, Lady Rarity.”  Princess Flurry didn’t look surprised at all.

“A single airship approaches.  There is no escort, and they do not appear to be obfuscating their presence.  We have no idea what they…”

“Lady Rarity!” Lofty shouted from up above.  “A single flier approaches!  A pegasus, in white armor, bearing a white flag!”

“An… envoy?” Rarity blinked.  She hadn’t been expecting this.  From the look on the Princess’ face, neither had she.  “What are your orders, princess?”

“It can’t hurt to hear what they have to say,” Princess Flurry said.

“Or maybe it can, and this is some sort of assassination plot,” Heartwing muttered.

“We’ll keep them at a distance,” Rarity offered.  “I’m sure their envoy can shout.  Meanwhile we maintain readiness, and we do not allow their airship any closer than we have to.”

“Do it,” the princess agreed.  “We can’t claim to be heirs to Twilight Sparkle’s charge if we don’t offer a little trust.  Besides, we will be ready for whatever treachery they may have to offer.”

“I doubt it,” Heartwing muttered.  “The Knights Mystic are very creative when it comes to treachery.”

Princess Flurry ignored him.  “Rarity, go see what this envoy has to say.  You have the authority to speak on my behalf.”

It was a powerful gesture, and Rarity was touched.  She bowed, and once again teleported back up onto the wall.

“You could have used the stairs,” Lofty said as soon as his shock subsided.  Emberglow eyed her sidelong.

“I know I could have, dears,” Rarity said with a toss of her mane.  “But this way is far more fabulous.”

They both stared at her for a second, before Emberglow finally snorted with amused laughter.  “She’s right.  It is much more fabulous.”

“See?” Rarity said, then looked out at the approaching flier.  It was hard to make out details at this distance, but it was indeed a pegasus in white armor.  And they were growing ever closer. 

She once again cast the voice amplification spell.  It was becoming rote for her now.

“Diarchy pegasus!” she called out.  “State your intentions!”

The pegasus paused, hovering in the air.  Rarity saw the glow of a spell being cast and she tensed, her own horn lighting up.  But it was the same spell she had cast.

“To the forces currently occupying Old Canterlot,” the pegasus called back.  It was a mare’s voice.  “We are an envoy of Knights Radiant.  We come with an important message, as well as healing for all of those wounded in your conflict.”

Despite herself, Rarity’s curiosity burned.  What was even going on?  She cleared her throat, considering her words.

“Land your airship outside the gates.  At least three blocks.  We will approach you.”

“There is one more thing,” the envoy called out.  “We offered transportation to an agent of yours, and her charges.  They will disembark when the airship lands.”

“Hostages?” Rarity called back, her heart sinking, encased in ice.  She knew exactly who the pegasus was speaking of.  Bubblegum.  And Emberglow’s parents.

“Not in the slightest,” the envoy said.  “A gesture of goodwill.  With no strings attached.”

That was even more curious.  Rarity shared a glance with Lofty, who shrugged.  She then turned to one of the soldiers.

“Go update Princess Flurry.  I will be leading a group outside the walls to meet with these Radiants, and see what they actually want.  Lady Emberglow should stay with the Princess and protect her.”  Emberglow wouldn’t like it, but at least knowing Emberglow was safe would help ease Rarity’s heart. 

“Yes, ma’am,” the Empire soldier saluted, then hurried down the walls.

“Ma’am,” Trick Shot began, his voice full of protest.

“Trick, you’re with me.  You too, Lofty.  And I’ll want at least two pegasi.  Knights.”

“Yes ma’am,” Lofty said, looking down the line of ponies on the wall.  “Polar? Azimuth?  With us, please.”

Two pegasi in yellow armor, a light blue furred mare and a navy blue stallion, left their place among the battlements and flew up to where Lofty and Rarity waited.

“You two will be with us.  Lady Rarity wishes to venture beyond the wall to meet with this envoy.  You two are going to accompany us.  If a fight breaks out, your orders are to get the Marchioness back to the safety of the walls, no matter what,” Lofty said.  The two Knights saluted.

Rarity frowned a little. “Include Sir Lofty in those orders, as well as Trick Shot here.  Neither of you are expendable.”

“As you say, Lady Rarity,” the mare, Polar, said.  But Rarity got the impression that both of them would be following Lofty’s orders regardless.

“Hopefully having them with us will keep Emberglow from worrying too much,” Rarity said. 

Lofty shook his head.  “I doubt it,” he said.  “She adores you, Rarity.  She’ll worry regardless.”

“She will,” Rarity confirmed.  She glanced back to where Princess Flurry was waiting.  Indeed, even at a distance Rarity could tell Emberglow was arguing with the messenger she’d sent.  “I think she’d do the same, were our situations reversed.  But privileges of command, and all that.”

“Nice,” Lofty said with a laugh.  “She’ll get on your case, later.”

“I know it,” Rarity said with a smirk.

By this point, the airship had floated much closer, and they watched as the pegasus envoy guided the ship in for a landing right where Rarity had instructed.  There was a clearing in the street, just over three blocks away, and Rarity could see ponies in white armor disembarking from the ship.

“Let’s go meet our guests,” Rarity said.

The four ponies descended the tower into the courtyard.  Princess Flurry, along with Emberglow and Heartwing, were waiting for them just by the palace’s large doors.  Emberglow looked like a storm cloud ready to unleash its lightning.  Rarity moved to head the storm off before it could strike.

“Emberglow, they say they brought your parents,” Rarity said, and whatever Emberglow had been about to say died on her lips.  “You have to stay near the Princess, but I thought I might be the next best thing to make sure they come in safely.”

Rarity looked up at the princess.  “I will determine why they are here, and then we’ll proceed from there, if that pleases you, Princess Flurry.”

The princess frowned.  “As long as you stay safe, Rarity.  This is risky.”

“A calculated risk, Princess,” Rarity said.  “And I’m not going alone.  Trick Shot, Lofty Tale, and two other Knights are coming with me.  I would like you to remain here in the courtyard, where you are safe.”

“Princess?” Emberglow said.  “May I watch from the tower above the gate?”

“I will see to the Princess’ safety,” Heartwing said.  “You can go watch.”

Emberglow nodded, and spread her wings.  She almost launched into the air immediately, but instead paused, darting forward to kiss Rarity on the lips.

The kiss lasted long enough that Heartwing cleared his throat, and Lofty let out a chuckle.  Rarity was out of breath when Emberglow broke away.

“You will stay safe,” Emberglow said, fire in her eyes.  “Or you’ll never get another one of those.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Rarity whispered, with half-lidded eyes of her own.

They held each other’s gaze as long as propriety would allow.  And then a few breaths longer.  Then Emberglow leapt upwards, flying her way to the tower.

“Open the gate!” Princess Flurry called, and Rarity, along with her guard, stepped up to the large imposing doors.  “We will keep them open for you, in case something happens.”

“You will do no such thing,” Rarity countered.  “If something goes wrong, I can teleport.  And the pegasi can evacuate Trick Shot and Lofty.  I will not let you risk losing the entire palace for my sake, especially when I have other methods of getting to safety.”

“As you wish,” the princess acquiesced.  “Soldiers, close the gate as soon as Rarity and her entourage are beyond the walls.”

It was an ominous thing to step outside the safe embrace of stone and friendship.  Rarity had only been here for one day, and already it felt intimidating to leave the safety of the walls.  However, life was a runway, and she held her head high and proud as she marched at the lead of her hastily-assembled unit.

They weren’t without precautions, however.  Both of the pegasi cast spells as soon as they passed under the archway, spells that would shield them from gunfire.  And Trick Shot lit his horn, his eyes darting about warily.

But even as they moved towards the airship, there were already three figures heading their way.  Bubblegum was coming at a gallop, and hard at her heels were two earth ponies.  Rarity could feel her companions tense at her side.

“Those are Emberglow’s parents, right?” Rarity asked softly.  She didn’t waver in her vigilant gaze, but saw Lofty nod in her periphery. She raised her voice. “Very well, let them pass.”    

The Knight pulled up short in front of them, clearly not intending to simply pass them by.  “I don’t know what in Tartarus is happening, Rarity, but my gut says these are good ponies.  They’ll mean what they say.  They helped us against the black bag team.”

Rarity, though, was focused on the older ponies.  They really did resemble their daughter.  She could see Emberglow’s grace and determination in her mother’s stride, and the kindness and wisdom in her father’s eyes.

Both ponies looked panicked and utterly bedraggled; neither one had had a good night, Rarity imagined.  The two of them were staring at her like she was some sort of monster, as well.  But she took it in stride.  It was to be expected.

“Get inside the safety of the walls.  Well done, Bubblegum.  I’m glad you’re safe.”

Rarity would talk with them at length later.  For now, she had to find out why these Diarchy Knights seemed so uncharacteristically helpful.

Up ahead, she could see several figures had disembarked from the airship.  All of them wore white armor, and she had to suppress her anger at the thought.  Rarity watched Bubblegum and her charges depart, rushing for the wall, before turning once again towards the airship and its passengers.

She came to a halt just a few dozen feet away from the armored ponies up ahead.  Her own guard spread out around her, with Lofty Tale tight on one flank and Trick Shot on her other.  Lofty was bearing his spear.  Up above them, the pegasi hovered close, ready to protect.

Three ponies detached from the group climbing down the airship gangplank and approached.  One of the trio was familiar; Rarity locked eyes with Mercy Song, and the other mare flinched.  But the three continued forward, until they were just a few feet from Rarity and her party.

“Hello,” the first began, an elderly, battle-scarred mare.  She had a creamy orange coat, with a tri-toned blue mane. “My name is Ambrosia, of the Knights Radiant.  These are my companions; Mercy Song of my own order, and Feather Bolt, representing the Knights Angelic.”

Rarity finally noticed the third pony, a pegasus stallion.  For a moment she was confused; she’d been told the Radiants only allowed mares.  But then she noticed that instead of her own cutie mark on his white armor, he wore Fluttershy’s.

“I must say,” Rarity said, as much to fill the silence as to cover her own confusion.  “Sir Heartwing will not like to see one of your kind wearing her cutie mark.  I imagine it would bother him a great deal.”

The Knight Angelic inclined his head a little, but said nothing.  The Knight named Ambrosia cleared her throat.

“We seek entrance to Old Canterlot to speak with your leaders, to discuss the state of the prisoners you have inside and to offer healing, both to them and to your own wounded.  The Knights Radiant, and their protectors the Angelic, both declare ourselves neutral in the conflict between your force and the other Knight orders.  Our purpose will be to offer healing to all, and to protect the innocents who will inevitably be caught in the coming crossfire.  Please, we ask to be allowed to speak with the one who calls herself Princess Flurry Heart, as well as the one who names herself Rarity.”

The way she phrased that irked Rarity, who held her head high, allowing her horn to glow just a little.  Feather Bolt moved subtly, so that his body was ready to shield the others.

“Don’t you read your own books, Knight?” Rarity said with no small contempt.  “Or look at the pictures?  Who do you think I am?”

“I did not wish to presume,” Ambrosia said coolly, and Rarity sniffed.  “Very well then.  Do you have the authority to grant us entry?”

“There will have to be conditions,” Rarity said.  “And the first one is this: that creature is not allowed anywhere near the walls.”  She pointed a hoof at Mercy, whose ears pinned back.  “I mean it.  She doesn’t get anywhere near us.”

“Lady Mercy Song has sinned in the past,” Ambrosia said.  “She recognizes her folly and wishes to make amends.”

“Well, then, she can make amends another time, another place,” Rarity said.  “She shall not be allowed to enter.”

Ambrosia’s expression hardened, matching Rarity’s gaze with a firm one of her own.  So it was to be a stare down.  Rarity put a little more energy into her horn, causing it to glow a little brighter.  Ambrosia’s lips tightened, her eyes narrowing a touch. 

The tense moment was broken when Mercy placed a hoof on Ambrosia’s shoulder.  The two shared a whispered exchange, before Ambrosia nodded, and Mercy turned, trotting back to the airship.

“We shall bring somepony else, then,” Ambrosia said, seemingly not affected by the demand.  “Smoky Flare, if you please?”

Another Radiant, this one a short earth pony with light gray fur trotted over.  Rarity noticed the new Radiant was staring at her horn, but it was not with the horror she expected; rather there was a strange sort of curious fascination.

“What are your other conditions?” Ambrosia continued, as if their previous disagreement had never occurred.

“You shall not be armed,” Rarity said, and the pegasus guard, Feather Bolt, stiffened with protest.  “You wish to show your good intentions?  Your neutrality?  Then you can come in peace.”

“We shall need our gauntlets,” Ambrosia said.  “If our purpose is to heal, we cannot very well do so without our magic.  Besides, there will only be three of us, until we can negotiate a larger presence within your walls.”

“You will have to speak to the princess for that,” Rarity said.  “One moment, allow me to confer.”

Her horn flashed, and a bubble of silence fell around the five of them.  “So?”

“Lady Ambrosia is the second in command of the entire Radiant order,” Lofty said.  “Her name is well known.  She’s got a reputation for being very clever.”

“The short one, Smoky?” Polar, one of their pegasus Knights chimed in.  “I’ve run into her across the battlefield before.  She’s one of those Radiants who got into it to heal, not to fight.  I don’t know anything about the pegasus, though.”

“What I want to know is exactly what the deal with these ‘Knights Angelic’ is,” Rarity said.  “It must be some sort of trick.”

“Is it possible they’re telling the truth?” Lofty said, and Rarity frowned.  “Well?  Not everypony down below has to be our enemy.  If anypony was going to make some sort of gesture like this, it would be the Radiants.  Besides, allowing them to heal our prisoners, and our wounded, would help with the strain on our resources.”

“Assuming it’s not a ploy to sneak in and steal all our horns,” Trick muttered.

“Sorry, but I’m not sure how much of a nefarious plot three unarmed Knights are,” Lofty said.  “I say we let them in.  Let Lady Ambrosia say her piece to Princess Flurry.  Because if she is telling the truth, we cannot let this gift go to waste.”

Rarity paused for only a brief moment.  Now was not the time for long deliberation; it was the time for decisive action.  Leadership.

She dispelled her bubble of silence and turned to Ambrosia. “Very well.  We shall take you to Princess Flurry.”
> Chapter 63
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 63


Personal Journal, General North Wind, Knights Adamant Grand Master

Nothing makes sense any longer.

I thought the Radiants were the strongest of us.  The core.

Could they truly have fallen so easily?  Or

[there are several words here blotted in thick ink, completely unreadable]

I won’t consider it.  Grand Master Fairy Light says she has her path to walk?  I have mine.

I can’t say I’m not worried, though.  Steadfast is becoming increasingly erratic.  He’s unpredictable.  Off, somehow, in ways I’ve never seen before.  Sometimes he won’t return my messages for hours. Still, though, when he does provide guidance it is on-point as always.

He’s asked for some of my airships and crew for a fresh assault on the old palace.  He’s planning something nasty, but I think it will work.  I don’t know all the details, but he assures me he has a way to deal with the threat of the one they call ‘alicorn’.

I offered my Knights as well, but he refused.  JUST the airships.

It’s getting harder to trust him.  Sometimes, in moments when I’m tired, or distracted, I hear something.  A voice.  It tells me to

[there are several more words blotted out]

Nevermind.  If circumstances were different I would go to the mind-healers among the Radiant.  But that’s not an option any longer.

Saints keep us all safe.  I don’t know what’s coming.

Old Canterlot, 1113 AF

Emberglow was a bundle of nerves as she watched the three galloping figures approach the door.

Her parents.

Her parents.

It had been so long.  And here she was, waiting.  Wearing armor with Discordant yellow bands painted on it.  Part of a force dedicated to pulling down everything they’d believed and lived for the past…

“Hey, ma’am?  You okay?”

There was an imperial soldier on the wall next to her, an earth pony with a dark blue coat and black mane.  He held a long rifle loosely in his hooves, pointed towards the distant Radiant airship.

“Huh?”

“You were hyperventilating, ma’am.”

She was? Emberglow held her breath for a moment, trying to take back control. “It’s nothing,” Emberglow said.  “I’m fine.”

“Whatever you say, ma’am.  The officers are always right.”  The soldier grinned sardonically.

Emberglow snorted.  “Right.  As if that were true.”

The walls rattled as the gates opened, and Emberglow nodded to the soldier.  “Good luck.”  She couldn’t put this off, no matter how much she wanted to hide.  Or flee.

It seemed like most of the soldiers were crowded on the palace grounds.  Emberglow landed in their midst, each one waiting in readiness to be called on, either to reinforce the walls or a breach in case of attack. Though hopefully there wouldn’t be one. She moved towards the doors when a voice called out for her.

“Emberglow!”

Topaz Glitter wove her way through the crowd, coming up to Emberglow’s side. “Hey.  Got a sec?”

The doors were nearly open, and Emberglow saw Bubblegum slip inside.  With her parents.

“Not really,” Emberglow said.  She took one step forward.

“This’ll be quick,” Topaz said, a hoof on her withers to stop her.  “Just… be careful, Emberglow.  Hope for the best, but if it doesn’t turn out that way…”

Topaz’ expression was strained.  Emberglow gulped and nodded.

“Even if it is bad, though, remember we’re with you.  Lofty, Rarity, Heartwing, Terminus.  And me.  We’ll be there for you no matter what.  Please keep that in mind.”

The two-second pep talk didn’t have the reassuring effect Topaz probably intended, but Emberglow forced a smile anyways.  Then, with a nod, she approached the trio, waiting awkwardly just inside the gate as the doors closed behind them.  After a moment, a silent figure appeared at her side; the bodyguard, one of Rarity’s unicorns.  Kite… something.  Dancer?

“Thank you,” Emberglow said softly, and the unicorn nodded.  Emberglow rushed up to Bubblegum.

It was a lot easier than facing her parents.

“How are you?  Did you get hurt, how are…”

“Emberglow…”

Her mother’s voice brought Emberglow up short, and she gulped back a sob.

“M-mom.  Dad.  Hello.”

Her parents stood there, staring at her.  Their eyes were wide.  Needle Point’s were full of tears.  Textile’s gaze wouldn’t hold still, darting all over the courtyard. Both were full of terror. 

“Are you hurt?  Did anything happen?  Is everything okay?”

Of course everything wasn’t okay.  Emberglow only spoke to fill the silence, to somehow maybe move past the awkwardness.  She hated herself a little for even suggesting that the current state of affairs even remotely approached ‘okay’.

From behind her, Emberglow heard the sound of shuffling hooves.  She glanced, and Bubblegum stood waiting.  “Go show them to your tent.  Get something to eat or drink from the mess hall.  Relax, breathe, take some time.  Sort yourselves out.”

“We’ll take care of things out here,” Topaz chimed in, from right beside her.  Topaz and Bubblegum glanced at each other, and Topaz nodded with a smile.  “And we’ll let you know as soon as we need you for something else.”

“But… Rarity…” Emberglow tried limply. 

“Rarity will be fine,” Bubblegum said.  “I think they mean well.  She’ll be safe.  Go.  Catch up with your parents.”

“Okay.  Uh, this way, Mom, Dad.”  She started out across the camp, and her parents followed on wooden legs.  Kite Dancer, her silent bodyguard shadow, followed at a polite distance.

They weren’t talking.  Why weren’t they talking?  They hadn’t said a word yet!  Emberglow’s mind drowned in the deluge of her own dark thoughts.  Her pulse thudded in her ears as she led the way to her tent.

The tent where she shared a bed with Rarity.  Yet another piece of the conversation she would have to have. For real, this time.

“C-Come on in.  We’re using tents right now; nopony wanted to move into the barracks for the various Orders, as even Princess Flurry figured we might not be here for long.  Only long enough to fix things, we think.  You know, the snow and stuff.”

She was babbling, and she knew it. Delaying the inevitable. She shut her mouth and pulled back the flap, thanking whatever deities were watching that she’d cleaned up a little after her time with Rarity, only a short bit ago.  She stepped inside, and her parents followed. 

“Um, this is my tent,” Emberglow began, then fell silent.  Her parents stood there, awkwardly, looking horrified.  Frozen.

What did you think would happen?

Emberglow had been expecting the voices much sooner, honestly.  But it was just as unwelcome now.

They don’t just hate you.  They’re terrified of you.  And shouldn’t they be?  Look, you’ve ruined their lives.

“So…”

“Emberglow!” her mother wailed, finally, and closed the distance between them in a flash, crushing her in a hug.  Emberglow instantly began to weep, burying her face in Needle Point’s mane, breathing in the comforting scent of her mother.  It was the smell of home; of baking in the kitchen, of fabric and thread.  It was the smell of smiles and tears and comfort and heartbreak.  Emberglow held her and sobbed.

“We didn’t know,” her father said, as he slowly moved to encircle both mares in his own embrace.  “We had no idea what happened.  You were declared missing in action.  We worried.  We prayed.  We felt so helpless.  Your mother never gave up hope we’d see you again.”

“And we never thought, we never even imagined, that you would have… that you could have…” her mother trailed off.  Emberglow flinched.  She knew exactly what Needle Point was thinking.

They’re not exactly proud of you now.  How could they be?

“Is it safe to talk?” her father whispered, and Emberglow broke the embrace, pulling back a little in confusion.  She looked into Textile’s terrified expression, and the way his gaze darted between Emberglow…

…and the mouth of the tent.

“What do you mean?”

“W-with… that right there,” he breathed.  Once again Textile’s eyes flickered to the tent flap.

Suddenly it dawned on Emberglow.  He was afraid of her guard.  Kite Dancer was a unicorn.

“Everything is fine, Dad,” she said.  “Kite Dancer is one of my guards.”

“They don’t let you go anywhere without guards?” her mother gasped.

“No, it’s not like that!” Emberglow protested.  “He’s not… my handler, Mom.  I’m…”  Her throat was dry.  Why was this conversation so hard?  “…I’m nobility now, in the Crystal Empire.”  She felt her face flush while she said it.  Why was it embarrassing to take pride in what she’d accomplished?  “I… well, I saved the life of their Princess, and they rewarded me for it.  So I guess that merits me bodyguards.”

“Maybe you should start at the beginning, Emberglow,” Needle Point said uncomfortably.  “How did… all of this happen?”

Emberglow opened her mouth, but paused. It was such a huge question.  A thousand little steps, a thousand moments of doubt, of revelation, of devastating truths.  When had it truly started? Was it at the Seminary, when she realized that in the eyes of some of her brothers and sisters she would never be equal because of her birth?  Or was it during her first assignment, when she realized the harm and violence her own people were bringing to others in the world?

Was it Bubblegum, and realizing that not everypony fit well inside the mold the Diarchy prescribed for them?  Was it Brightblade, and the stark revelation of what zealotry looked like from the outside?

Was it Gadget?  Was it that first kiss?

So glad that my life could be a stepping stone on your way to freedom and happiness, Emberglow.

“I always knew I was different,” she began in a whisper, ignoring the voice.  “From around the time I got my cutie mark.  Looking at mares.  At stallions.  Not feeling what I was supposed to be feeling when I saw them. Hearing the other foals talk about crushes.  Dating.”

Emberglow didn’t know why she was starting here, of all places.  But she kept talking.

“It wasn’t like it was for the others my age.  It didn’t help that I was already getting lost in books at that time.  I… I talked to a confessor about what I was feeling, and he confirmed it.  I would always be outside.  Other.  Different.  A mistake.

“Maybe that’s why Knighthood held such an appeal for me,” she continued.  “I wouldn’t have to try to fit into a mold that wasn’t built for me.  I could be who I am…”

Emberglow flinched.

“Well, some of who I am, without feeling like such an outcast.”

“You never told us,” Needle Point whispered.  “I had no idea you were… that you…”

“I kept it hidden,” Emberglow said.  “I shoved it deep, and never let anypony see a hint. I had to. I’m sorry.  But I didn’t think it would matter if I told you or not; I was always going to be a Knight Radiant.  So I thought… what would it hurt if nopony knew but me?”

There was pain in both of her parents’ eyes.  Needle Point looked like she was ready to cry.

“You could have told us,” Needle said.  The sting of betrayal was clear in her voice.  “We could have helped.  It didn’t have to lead to…”

She trailed off, her gaze moving around the tent, as if she were taking in the tent, the camp, and the ruins all about them.

But Emberglow wasn’t about to let that stand.  Anger at her parents was an uncomfortable sensation for her, but she felt a spark of something deep in her gut. 

“No.  It did have to lead to all of this,” Emberglow said.  There was some heat in her voice, and both her mother and father recoiled a little.  “I don’t even know where to start.  But I said as much in my radio message.  We’ve been lied to.  The Saints weren’t what we were taught.  There were unicorns among them.  The Diarchs?  Celestia and Luna?”

Both older ponies cringed, but Emberglow charged on.

“They were alicorns.  The very same kind of pony as Princess Flurry, who you saw on the way in.  Twilight Sparkle was born a unicorn, but then she became an alicorn, too.  They weren’t warriors, they were just normal ponies.  Like Rarity.”

Time for the real artillery shell.

“Rarity and I… we’re together.  Dating.  I know that sounds insane, but she’s nothing like the Book.  She’s a real mare.  I want you to meet her.  To shake her hoof, and to see just how kind and wonderful she is.  I want you both to love her too.”

They stared at Emberglow.  Both Needle Point and Textile, with shocked faces painted blatantly with denial, were utterly frozen.

“I know it’s alien to you,” Emberglow said desperately.  She needed this.  More than anything she’d ever needed before.  “I’m not asking for you to change your minds.  Or… or to throw out everything you’ve ever known.  I’m just asking for a chance.  Please.”

Silence.  Stares.

“Please,” she repeated, impotently.  Words were futile devices. 

Silence.  Stares.

You’re a naïve foal.

“Just tell me what I need to say,” Emberglow pleaded.  “What can I do, what can…”

Somepony cleared her throat outside the tent, and Emberglow froze.  She knew that delicate voice.  Knew it almost as well as her own.  Rarity was here.

Emberglow wasn’t ready.

You’ll never be ready for this.

There was no helping it.  They would have to meet her sometime.  But Rarity possessed a charm all her own.  A magical ability to draw ponies’ hearts to her.  Emberglow had felt it herself, from the moment she’d seen the mare.  Perhaps it was time to have a little faith.

“Rarity?  Come in and meet my parents.”

Rarity slipped inside the tent, her expression careful.  She brushed the snow off her mane, smiling brightly at the ponies inside.

“I would be delighted, darling,” she said.  “Hello, you two.  My name is Rarity.”

She was elegant and graceful, just as usual, and even in the circumstances Emberglow was in awe.

“R-rarity,” she stammered, feeling small.  Inadequate.  “I’d like you to meet my parents.  Textile, and Needle Point.”

“An absolute pleasure, both of you,” Rarity said, sincerity and genuine happiness in her voice.  “Emberglow has spoken of you both in such glowing terms that I have been looking forward to meeting you in pony.”

“P-please,” Emberglow repeated a third time.  This had to go well.  This needed to go well.  She searched her parents’ faces, looking for… well, anything.  Any sort of reaction, any sort of positive change.

But there was nothing good.  The same look of shock, the same look of horror.  Only now, their eyes kept flicking back and forth between Rarity’s face… and Rarity’s horn.

“C-can’t you just give her a chance?” Emberglow whispered, even as the hope dwindled in her chest.

But it was for nothing.

It was her mother who began.  Needle Point dropped to her belly in a deep bow, and with a slight look of alarm Textile followed her.

“Whoever you are,” her mother begged, her voice muffled by the canvas tent floor.  “Whatever you want, whatever you have done to our daughter, please stop.”

“She was a good filly,” her father said, even as Emberglow’s eyes widened.  Her heart pounded, and she felt sick.  “She never questioned, and was always obedient.  She never rebelled, even a little.  I wouldn’t have minded if she had.  She was the most perfect daughter anypony could hope for.  And we just want her back.”

“You could take us, instead.  With whatever enchantment you’ve used on our daughter.  But not her.  Not my Emberglow,” her mother pleaded.

They’d talked about this, Emberglow thought.  Planned it a little.  Rehearsed.  They didn’t believe her.  They didn’t trust her.  Betrayal, fury, horror, embarrassment, all exploded in her chest.

“I assure you, good ponies, that I have done nothing of the sort,” Rarity said calmly, only the slightest hitch in her voice betraying her own worry.  “Emberglow has made every choice that brought her here of her own free will.”

“That’s impossible,” Textile shot back.  “You don’t know our daughter, if you think she’d ever betray us, betray her ponies and her country like this.  She’s a good mare, ma’am.  Please.  We just want her back.  We’ll do anything.”

It was the betrayal that finally won out in Emberglow’s heart.  That and the fury.

“You don’t… believe me?” she hissed.  “You don’t believe I’m capable of making my own decisions?  Of walking my own path?  Making up my own mind about what is true and what is a lie?  You don’t trust me that much?”

“Of course we trust you, Emberglow,” her mother said.  “That’s how we know that your mind is not your own.”

There was a buzzing in her ears, and a sharp, gasping, rhythmic sound.  Emberglow could have sworn she was seeing red.

“Emberglow, you…”

Rarity never finished what she was about to say.  Emberglow couldn’t stay here.  A million things to say, a million words, all of them full of fury.  No.

If they weren’t going to listen, Emberglow wasn’t going to spare them any words.

She rushed out of the tent, chased by the calls of all three ponies.

You thought they would listen?

She kept running, ignoring the shouts of surprised soldiers and Knights.

You thought you could change something?

She didn’t even know where she was going, she just had to be away.

Their faith is their everything, you were a fool to think they’d be able to see past it.

“Emberglow!  Emberglow, you stop running this instant!”

Rarity’s clipped, impatient tone brought her to a halt. 

“What?” Emberglow hissed as she spun, loud enough that soldiers and Knights nearby stopped and glanced over with concern.

Rarity was being trailed by their two guards, who discretely took up positions close enough to protect them, but far enough away to not be obtrusive.  Rarity, however, closed the remaining distance between them in a dash, clutching Emberglow tight.

“Oh, dearest, I am so sorry.” Rarity’s voice was soft, soft enough that only Emberglow could hear.  “I know you wanted that to go well.  I wish there was something, anything, I could do to make it better.”

Rarity reached up with one hoof and wiped a tear from Emberglow’s cheek.  She hadn’t even known she’d been crying.

“I… never expected this,” Emberglow sobbed out.  “Disbelief.  Anger.  Maybe even hatred.  But not… not what they said.”

“They didn’t mean to be cruel,” Rarity whispered.

“How do I convince them?” Emberglow begged.  “How do I make them see? Rarity, you are the best thing that ever happened to me.  I need them to understand that I chose you.  You’re not a spell, you’re not a trick, you’re not a—”

“Darling,” Rarity interrupted.  “Emberglow. It might just take time.  You might just have to—"

“I could give them what they want,” Emberglow said, in a sudden burst of inspiration.  What her mother had always wanted.  What she’d longed for ever since Lucky Break had been taken from them.  Taken and killed, Emberglow reminded herself.  “A grandfoal.”

“Emberglow, I don’t think—”

“Don’t you see, Rarity?” Emberglow pleaded.  It made sense to her, now; a sudden epiphany.  Even amidst her grief, her panic, her confusion, the idea sparked like a flash of brilliance.

“See what, Emberglow?” Rarity said warily.  “I’m not sure you’re—”

“We give them a grandfoal!  You and me!  They can’t hate a foal, and then they’ll—”

“Emberglow.”

There was something off in Rarity’s voice, and it brought Emberglow up short.  She peered closely at her marefriend.

“What’s wrong?”

“Emberglow,” Rarity repeated, fervently and slowly.  “I need you to listen to me very carefully.  You’re not making sense.”

“I’m making plenty of sense,” Emberglow fired back, anger buzzing in her head.  “I’ll prove to them that this is real!  I know the spell! I’ll make them love you, if…”

The realization of what she was saying suddenly dawned on her, and Rarity nodded, a sad smile on her muzzle.

“Precisely, darling.  You’re upset, you’re shaken, and you’re not dealing with it well.  I am willing to have a foal with you, Emberglow, but I will not bring a child into the world just to prove a point.  Or to spite your parents.”

You didn’t even think of the foal, did you?

The voice of Emberglow’s guilt pounded in her head, and she let out an audible whimper.

“And because you’re upset,” Rarity continued, “you’re off balance.  You’ve been dealt a heavy blow, and you’re reeling.  Now is not the time to make hasty decisions, whatever they may be.”

Tears continued to leak from her eyes.  “I know,” Emberglow whispered.  “I know.  But what else am I supposed to do?”  She turned away.  Shame burned in her, and she didn’t want Rarity to see it in her eyes.  “I have to convince them.  I need to, Rarity.  They can’t keep hating you and fearing you!  They’re my parents!”

“I know…” Rarity’s voice was gentle as she encircled Emberglow in a hug, pulling her close. “…it’s going to be hard for you to accept.  But your parents need to walk their own path.  They’ll get there someday, I’m sure of it!”

Emberglow didn’t want to be hugged right now.  Or comforted.  She wanted to do a thousand things.  She wanted a foal with Rarity, true.  And not just for shameful reasons.  She wanted to go charging back to her parents and demand they get over themselves, demand they listen.  She wanted to never see them again.  She wanted to see them right now, to apologize, to beg them to…

Rarity seemed to notice Emberglow’s turmoil, because she stepped back, planting a soft kiss on Emberglow’s cheek.

“Take some time, get some air, and then come find me at the command tent.  Princess Flurry and Heartwing have negotiated to allow the Radiant contingent into the compound, and I’m helping to sort out logistics.  Plus, it keeps them all off balance every time they see this radiant face.”

Her smile was dazzling, and Emberglow managed a smirk.  She leaned over and gave Rarity a kiss of her own.

“Thank you.  Thank you for…for being patient with me.”  Emberglow took a step away.  “I need a moment.  Let me… clear my head and then we’ll catch up.”

“Stay safe, darling.  You carry my heart with you,” Rarity said, and turned back towards the command tent. Trick Shot followed Rarity, while Kite Dancer stood at attention by Emberglow, waiting for her own decision.  Emberglow set off without a destination in mind, moving without thinking.  She galloped, hoping the frantic pace would clear her mind.

Her hooves had carried her on a familiar path.  She was right in front of the Shrine of the Generous. 

There was a moment of panic in Emberglow when she saw the guards in front of the familiar doors.  The first one was one of the new Knights, a middle-aged pegasus mare in white armor with Fluttershy’s cutie mark.  She watched Emberglow closely, warily but without hostility, a spear held loosely in her hooves.  The second was a short earth pony mare with gray fur and a fiery mane.  She was wearing Radiant armor, and bore a sheathed sword.

The sight of two Diarchy Knights made Emberglow pull up short, wings spread and one hoof raised, as if ready to fight.  But both mares just stood there, patiently.

“Please, don’t be afraid,” the Radiant said, voice calm.  “Are you hurt?  Do you need healing?”

Emberglow’s mind raced.  The mare was vaguely familiar; probably one of the rotating cast of teachers who had instructed Radiants during her time here. “What are you doing here?”

“Please,” the mare held up a hoof.  “You are safe here.  Take a deep breath.”

Emberglow was panting hard. 

“I’m part of negotiations.  I came with Lady Ambrosia.  We’re here to treat the wounded of all sides; we have Lady R-rarity and Princess Flurry’s permission.”  There was a note of awe in her voice as she said Rarity’s name.  “The Radiants are neutral in all conflict now.”  The mare stepped forward, carefully.  “Again, are you hurt?  We offer healing to all.  For free.  No matter what color armor you wear.”

“I’m not wounded,” Emberglow said.  It wasn’t quite true.  Her mind raged and spun.  But she felt like she had to say something.

“Perhaps just a place to sit and be at peace?” the mare offered.  “This was your home, once, wasn’t it?  I remember teaching you search and rescue tactics as a Squire.”

That was it.  It had only been a few lessons, optional classes.  The spells had been useful.

“I… I don’t need…” Emberglow didn’t want to be around her old Order right now.  The sisters she had left behind when she’d started her new life.  That, and the look of compassion and understanding on the Knight’s face was unbearable.  She had to stop herself from turning to flee again.

“Why?” Emberglow asked finally, without any explanation, but the mare seemed to understand.

“Lady Fairy Light says we’re walking a middle path.  Between two sides of a war.  And it’s the only way for us to have true peace someday,”she said.  “I believe her.”

There was such conviction in her voice, a passion and faith, that Emberglow’s mind stilled for a second.

“On your airship.  You came with two ponies.  My parents,” Emberglow said. The mare nodded. “How did they seem?”

“Frightened.  Numb,” the mare said, and Emberglow flinched.  “But strong, a-and very worried about you,” she added hastily.  “Anypony could tell how proud they are of their Knight daughter.  They kept their composure throughout the ordeal.”

“Did they seem… ashamed of me?” The word passed out of Emberglow’s throat like over sandpaper.

“No,” the mare said.  “Just scared for you.”  She smiled gently.  “You won’t find any judgment from me for the path you walk, Lady Emberglow.  We all understand, now, why somepony would choose to leave.  There is no shame.”

“But you didn’t choose to leave yourself.” Emberglow said.  Of course her name was known to these ponies.

“No.  Many of us don’t think we can shape the future from the outside,” she said.

There was a part of Emberglow which understood.  Even agreed.  For a moment she imagined what it might be like, standing side by side with her sisters.  She’d never had much time to grow with her fellow Radiants, to get to know them, to stand beside them in battle over and over. 

But then Mercy Song’s face floated in her mind.

“No.  I couldn’t,” Emberglow breathed.

The mare nodded with understanding.

“That’s fine.  Again, no judgment here,” she said.  “But I wonder if you’d be willing to talk to our leader?  She wants to meet you, Emberglow.”

“Your leader?” There was a sharpness to Emberglow’s voice.  If it was Mercy, she wanted nothing to do with it.

“Lady Ambrosia,” the guard said.  “I’ll go get her, if you like.  You can talk out here, in the open.  She has some things she’d like to ask you, and to share with you.”

A meeting in public, with an unarmed Radiant?  What could go wrong?

You thought that when you were talking to Mercy Song, didn’t you?

Did she want to trust?  Or did she want to doubt?

The silent presence of one of her guards did help her decide, though her heart was pounding.

“Yes.  I’ll speak with Lady Ambrosia.”

“Good!” the mare said.  “One moment, please.” 

She disappeared inside the Shrine of the Generous, closing the door behind her.  Despite her earlier offer of entrance, Emberglow felt like there was something symbolic in the closed door.  Like she wasn’t welcome any longer in this holy place. If one could call it such, still.

She tried not to stare at the other Knight, but the watchful guard wasn’t making things any less awkward with her silence.  She stood at attention, spear pointed up but held ready, and Emberglow got the impression that she’d be ready to strike with it if Emberglow made the slightest threatening move.  Yet another piece of evidence that this wasn’t her home any longer.

The wait wasn’t long, but the act of waiting was aggravating.  It felt like every second they spent waiting, doing nothing, was a waste.  Emberglow knew that Princess Flurry and Heartwing were working on a plan to storm the capital and search for the Element of Magic, but they hadn’t announced anything yet.

Finally the mare in question emerged, followed by the guard mare from earlier. Ambrosia was old enough that her face was pitted with wrinkles.  Her tri-toned blue mane was fading to gray, but she still carried herself with dignity and strength.  Her aged eyes looked Emberglow up and down, and she got the distinct impression that the Radiant leader was somehow weighing her soul.

“Knight Emberglow,” she said, formally. 

Emberglow merely nodded.  She’d heard of Lady Ambrosia when she’d joined the Radiants.  Second in command of the entire order, Lady Fairy Light’s right hoof, with a reputation for being a shrewd judge of character.  In the past, she might have saluted.  But she was Radiant no longer, and Mercy had evaporated most of her good will towards her former order.

“How can I help our guests?” she asked back, just as formally.

“I wish to talk with you, nothing more,” Ambrosia said.  “Truly.  I am in possession of information that may be useful to you.”  She paused, frowning.  “Information that, perhaps, should never have been kept from you, Emberglow. I hope, that after our gesture of goodwill, you’ll be willing to at least hear me out.”

“Gesture of goodwill?” Emberglow hissed.  The mare from earlier flinched at her tone, but Ambrosia remained calm.  “Which gesture was that?  When Mercy Song chased after me, just wanting to talk?  A chase that ended with Brightblade killing two of my friends and torturing me.  Again.”

She wasn’t exactly in the mood for negotiation right now.

“Mercy was operating outside of my orders,” Ambrosia said with a frown.  “And Lady Fairy’s.  She was working at Sir Steadfast’s behest.”  Ambrosia’s contempt was clear in the downturn of her voice.  “She has been reprimanded, and her hooves walk the correct path now.”

“Doesn’t bring the lives back, does it?” Emberglow said.

Ambrosia flinched.  “No, it does not.  Nor do my apologies.  But you have them anyway.”

The two mares stared at each other, and Emberglow became aware of the sounds of the camp around them.  Business as usual, moving this way and that, ignorant of the turmoil in her head.

She didn’t want any apologies.

“Tell me what you want me to know, so we can part ways,” Emberglow said, sounding just as tired as she felt.  “I’m busy.”

You are not.  You’re fleeing from the guilt and shame of what you just asked of Rarity.

“To the point, then?  Very well.  You remember the two visions each of us receives when we swear our oaths, correct, Emberglow?”

Emberglow remembered them well.  Two visions, one held in common with the other Radiants, one unique.  She now knew her unique vision had pointed her way, had warned her of her coming losses, and had foreshadowed the Element of Honesty.

“The one we all hold in common warns us of the one ruling from the shadows,” Ambrosia continued.  “The Diarchy’s true leaders, their zealous protectors, also their greatest threat.  We have known this for decades.  Centuries.  We’ve worked to keep ourselves free of their manipulation for all that time, perhaps so that we could guide our ponies, turn them away from the worst zealotry the Inquisitors have to offer.”  She shook her head.  “We have been ineffective.  Lady Fairy decided it was time for more direct intervention.”

“So… neutrality,” Emberglow said.  “But why now?  After… after hundreds of years of atrocities.  Did the guilt get to be too much?”

You know a great deal about guilt, don’t you?

“By ourselves we could not do much.  We were waiting for the Day of Hope.  We were waiting for the gift that you brought us, Emberglow.”

“You mean Rarity?” Emberglow asked, and the other mare flinched at the name.  “Not Lady Rarity, or Saint Rarity, just Rarity.  A wonderful mare, kind and gentle and beautiful and mortal.  She won’t solve your problems, Lady Ambrosia.  We’re here because of something else.”

“The cold,” Ambrosia whispered, looking up at the sky.  There was no snow at the moment, but the flurries from the last fall still drifted along the ground.  The gray skies up above spoke of more to come in the near future, though.  “There is something unnatural about the cold.  That’s why you’re here.  Your princess mentioned as much.”

“We think we can fix it,” Emberglow admitted.  “We can do that much.”  She didn’t mention the Element of Magic.  She didn’t know how much Lady Ambrosia had been told.

“We wish you all the blessings of the Saints in that endeavor, and then a swift trip home,” Ambrosia said.  “At which point we hope to begin negotiations for peace.  A difficult thing to do when you have a hostile, occupying force within one of our most sacred spaces.”

Emberglow noted the tension in her voice, the stiff anger in her limbs.  The two mares stared at each other, before the older Knight relented, looking away with a sigh.

“But that’s not why we’re here.  I asked you about your vision.”

“I was told,” Emberglow said slowly, “that it was secret.”

“The Oracle remembers, Emberglow.  We keep track of our sisters, and try to help our sisters meet their destinies as best as we can.”  She paused, eyes unfocused with thought.  “It is not unknown for the Oracle to converse with a squire, like she did with you.  But it is very rare.  Usually her prophecies are delivered as some sort of verse.

“Of course, we had our eye on you long before then,” Ambrosia said.  “Let me share with you one of our prophecies.  Fairy Light’s, actually.”

She cleared her throat and recited.  “The glow of hope lights the torch of revolution. Flickering flames become the bonfire that rewrites history. The phoenix takes wing on flames of love and loss.  For years, she and I spoke of it. What did it mean?  Fairy was convinced that the revolution was the rebalancing of power between the Orders.  That the Day of Hope meant a chance to rewrite history, to chart a new course for ponies everywhere and be free of the cruelty and deception our society is built on.  When we heard your name, Emberglow?  Fairy was convinced that her prophecy spoke of you.  That you would be the mare to begin the Day of Hope.”

Emberglow stared at the mare.  What was she even talking about?

“Which leads to another thing I must apologize for,” Ambrosia said.  “When Fairy Light was so convinced, I counseled that we should leave you ignorant of her vision.  To allow you to grow and learn, without the burden of prophecy dogging your hoofsteps.  And as a result, you became snapped up in Steadfast’s machinations.  Had it not been for me, you never would have lost your faith.  You never would have had to suffer so.”

Every hair of Emberglow’s mane stood on end.  She took a hoofstep back.  Then another.

“Please,” Ambrosia said.  “Do not run.  We have so much to discuss.”

“Do we?” Emberglow snarled.  For the second time today fury and indignation completely washed over her thoughts.  “I don’t have anything to say to you.  You think I’m some kind of, what, savior?  The only reason I was able to wake up Rarity is because I walked the path I did!  Your Day of Hope never would have come if Steadfast hadn’t sent me to Manehatten.  And the Day of Hope was never what you thought it was!  It wasn’t about returning the Discordant to the fold, it was about Rarity waking up!”

Ambrosia opened her mouth to interject, but Emberglow‘s anger and frustration flowed out of her mouth before she could hold it back.

“I’m glad it didn’t turn out differently.  I’m glad you didn’t intervene.  Because if you had, I never would have found Rarity.  And I’d never have her in my life.  How does that make you feel?  I’m sleeping with your beloved Saint!”

Emberglow could feel her cheeks heat up as she hissed out that last sentence, but she wouldn’t take it back.  The shocked expression on Ambrosia’s face filled her with a sense of petty vindication.

It didn’t last long, though, before Emberglow felt a stab of shame.  There was nothing to be gained by riling this mare up.  She was better than this.  She sighed and ducked her head.

“Just tell me what you want from me, Ambrosia.”  Years of training meant it was difficult to say the name of such a high-ranking officer without an honorific, but Emberglow forced herself to say it, even though her voice itself was still polite.  “So we can move on.”

“We want you back. You never should have left us,” Ambrosia said.  “And I blame myself that you did.  We should have guided you more directly instead of letting Steadfast do so.”  There was anger in her voice when she spoke of Emberglow’s old mentor.

“You knew what he was?” Emberglow guessed, and Ambrosia cringed, but nodded.  “You did.  And you still let things play out.”

“We Radiants have always been slow to act, always eager to maintain the status quo,” Ambrosia said.  “To not upset anypony, to not rock the boat.  Lady Fairy has finally chosen to change that trajectory.”

“Well, you’re far too late for me,” Emberglow said, feeling the weight of the words’ finality keenly.  “You want me to come back into the fold?  Too bad.  It’s not going to happen.”  She motioned to the yellow bands on her armor.  “I’m proud of these.  I’m proud of my friendship with Heartwing, and with the others.  And I’m not very comfortable being a part of something that was propped up by lies and deceptions for centuries.”

Ambrosia nodded.  Sadly, but not with surprise, as if she’d been expecting this.  “Then, if you will not be a part of us again, I would ask that you lend your voice to ours in calling for peace.  If you are friends with Sir Heartwing, your words carry weight.”  Ambrosia looked around the grounds of the palace, her eyes narrowed with worry.  “I hate that this sacred ground has become a place of war.  I understand why your people did what they did, but it should not be.  Not here.”

“There are many kinds of ‘peace’. What is it you actually want?” Emberglow asked.  “For things to go back to the way they were?”

“No,” Ambrosia shook her head.  “Lady Fairy speaks of the Knighthood as a family.  What she wants is for us to be that way again.”  She laughed; a humorless, shallow sound.  “She knows it’s naïve.  There’s too much history between us, too much spilled blood.  But maybe there’s a way for us to begin speaking to each other again, at least.  And if so?  Maybe we won’t fight any longer.”

“What about the Mystics?  Sir Steadfast?”

Ambrosia’s face darkened.  “Steadfast is a blight.  Representative of everything wrong with us.  The leadership of the Mystics is based on a flawed idea: that we cannot come to proper decisions without singular direction.  ‘First among equals’ is a lie, and the sooner the rest of the Knighthood realizes this the sooner we can start healing.”

“But are you going to remove him from power?” Emberglow asked, and Ambrosia shook her head.  “We may have to, if there is to be peace.”

“Can peace truly come from a place of violence?” Ambrosia countered, and this time Emberglow had to shake her head.  “I don’t know where this all ends, but—”

“Lady Emberglow!”

Both mares looked up to see an approaching Empire soldier, a Crystal pony with dark navy fur, rushed up, out of breath.

“Lady Emberglow, you…”

The guard paused, looking suspiciously at Ambrosia.  Ambrosia gave a dignified sigh, and a low bow in Emberglow’s direction.

“It seems your own duties call.  I am sorry our conversation could not be more productive.  Know that you have a place among us.  All will be forgiven.”

Her words made Emberglow stiffen.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Emberglow hissed back, and Ambrosia flinched, before bowing one more time and retreating back into the Shrine of the Generous.  Emberglow turned back to the soldier.

“Come with me,” Emberglow said, guiding him away from the Shrine and its occupants.  She would have liked more time to process what was happening with all this.  To come to terms with what she was feeling, and maybe even talk to her parents again.  But time waited for nopony.  “What’s going on?”

“More airships approaching, ma’am,” the soldier said.  “Heartwing needs you in the command tent.”

Emberglow let the sudden, intense feeling of pressure wash over her.  She silently counted to ten, as her intrusive thoughts roared.

One.  Two.

This is it.  You and your friends are going to die.

Three.  Four.  Five.

You wasted your one chance to reconcile with your parents.

Six.  Seven.

Rarity thinks you’re pathetic.

Eight.  Nine.

Your former Sisters trusted you.  What use was their faith?

Ten.

“Lead the way, I’m ready,” she said, with confidence she didn’t feel.


*   *   *   *   *


The command tent was packed.  Rarity was there, of course, smiling brilliantly when Emberglow entered.  Lofty and Topaz were side-by-side.  Bubblegum was close to Princess Flurry, eyeing a white-armored pegasus stallion that Emberglow did not recognize.  Terminus and Heartwing stood together at the head of a long table, covered with scattered maps and reports.  There were also a dozen other Knights and Empire soldiers, waiting for orders.

“Everypony,” Heartwing began, after a glance and a nod towards Princess Flurry.  “I know we summoned you in a hurry, but it seems like things aren’t as urgent yet as they could be. We’ve got three airships on the horizon, but all three appear to be holding position and not advancing any closer.  We’ve got our ponies on the wall on high alert, and spells and spyglasses trained on the ships to make sure they don’t approach any closer.  But for now, we have time to discuss strategy.”

Heartwing paused, and then nodded to the white-armored pegasus.  “Sir Feather Bolt of the Angelic would like to address us first.  I’ve given him permission to do so, and then he may leave.”  Heartwing’s voice was patient, but with an edge of careful mistrust.  But the pegasus gave a low bow.

“Thank you, Sir Heartwing.  I beg your patience, ponies.  And thank you for your patience and your wisdom, Princess Flurry Heart.”

The stallion’s voice was even and light, the cadence of a trained politician.  Princess Flurry inclined her head, giving him permission to speak.

“I understand that the Radiants and Angelic whom you have graciously allowed into these walls are a source of worry and mistrust for you all.  I wish it were not so, but this is the reality of the situation.  It is also true that we will not raise up arms to support your cause; we have sworn neutrality and nonviolence, unless we are attacked ourselves.  We may appear to be a liability, and for that we apologize.

“However, the truth is many in the Diarchy, particularly the Mystics, likely view us as the enemy now.  While we will keep to our Oaths, we will also defend ourselves.  And we have no desire to see this sacred place fall under siege.  Or even worse, to become the site of a massacre.  As a former Mystic myself, I am aware of several of the plans and fail safes set up to defend or retake this place, if it were to ever fall into Discordant hooves.  I have passed that information on to Sir Heartwing as an act of goodwill.”

He nodded to a stack of papers on the table.

“One more thing.  If there is fighting here, please be aware that the Mothers have offered their healing freely to all.  The Shrine of the Generous, small though it be, will be a place of peace and recovery.  We ask that no violence come to those walls, and offer anypony, Empire, Discordant, or Diarchy, to come find rest and life there, without fee and without question.”

Once again, he bowed low, this time to Heartwing.

“If you have any questions for me or my Knights, please don’t hesitate to seek me out at the Shrine.  And ponies?  Please believe that I am praying for everypony’s lives.  All of us are.  If there is a path to peace through all of this, we beg you to take it.”

The Knight moved to the tent entrance, hesitating at the flap.

“I don’t know if it means anything to any of you, but I do wish the blessing of the Saints on your endeavors.  Please, be safe.”

There was a long silence after he left, finally broken by the princess.

“How much do we trust him and his ponies?” she asked.

Heartwing frowned.  “I don’t want to.  But for three centuries I’ve followed my gut, especially when it comes to judging character.  And these Angelic…”

He scowled.  “I hate that they’re using her mark.  But…”

There was another long pause.

“But if they are earnest,” Rarity continued for him, “then they are doing her honor, are they not?” Heartwing looked away with a grimace.  “I, for one, would rather trust than doubt,” Rarity concluded.  “And your instincts have been generally good, even if you’re second guessing them now.”

“Be that as it may,” Princess Flurry cut in, “we’re not here to discuss the Radiant or the Angelic.  They are a problem, to be certain.  But so far they have kept the peace, and diligently kept their word of offering healing to all of our wounded.  Our strained resources are grateful, at the very least.  And they took the prisoners off our hooves.”

“What?” Emberglow asked.  She thought about the Knights and the squires she’d done triage on.  While it was nice to know they were getting more help, the idea of them possibly being free inside the walls was… unsettling.

“It was a part of our negotiations.  The prisoners will not leave the castle, but we won’t have to spend any more motes keeping them alive,” Heartwing said.  By his voice, he didn’t like the arrangement much either.  “We have enough of our own in their infirmary to keep an eye on things, but it’s still a tense situation.”

“Made worse by the airships,” Lofty said, and Heartwing nodded grimly.  “Any clue who’s on board?”

“Scouts that tried to get close were fired on,” Heartwing said.  “Havoc Sprint barely made it back with his wounds.  No other scout dared fly close after that.  But he reported seeing purple armor, and no other colors.”

“Why wouldn’t they throw everything at us?” Lofty asked, brow furrowed.

“Split attention?” Terminus suggested.  “They don’t want to commit too much when there’s other forces at the borders?”

But Heartwing was already shaking his head.  “No.  This is something else.  There’s a plot going on.” He laid a hoof on the stack of papers that Feather Bolt had pointed out.  “If it’s only Mystics, then Steadfast certainly wants to keep something from the other Orders.”

He looked over the table, searching for one particular piece of paper.

“We don’t have much fresh intelligence out of the capital, but one thing our scant reports have in common is that there’s a communication breakdown between the Orders.  The Mystics are keeping their council to themselves, and the other Orders seem to be floundering, waiting for direction that isn’t coming.  I don’t know what it means, but I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth; any confusion among our enemies is a boon.”

“Regardless,” the Princess said.  “We can’t think defensively.  Once we have a plan for how to deal with these three airships, we can start talking about finding the missing Element.  Heartwing and I have been preparing a spell to seek it out.  It’s a sound theory, based on some of my aunt’s research.”

Emberglow wanted to hear more about this experimental spell, but Heartwing held up a hoof.

“While I would love to have a nostalgic lecture about comparative magical theory, we do have to deal with the Mystics,” he said.  He thumped his hoof on the papers.  “Feather’s information has been valuable, even if I’m not sure I trust it fully.  There are a hoofful of contingencies the Mystics have in place to retake the palace if it falls, including pegasus strike teams, airship bombardment, tunnels into the grounds, weaponized weather, triggering landslides from above, and even experimental long-range enchanted mortars.  Following the diagram Feather gave me, I’ve already sent sapper teams to collapse the tunnels that we know of, as well as sending scout teams up the mountain to watch for saboteurs.  It should—”

Heartwing cut off as there was a low rumble.  Emberglow thought it was the sound of an airship engine at first, until she remembered she was on land.  And land shouldn’t be trembling like that.

“What did you say about landslides?” Lofty said into the silence that followed, and everypony’s eyes widened with horror.

“Rarity!” Heartwing called.  “Summon your teams.  We’ll need shield spells, levitation for larger pieces of debris, and earthmoving spells!  Princess, stay here.  Bubblegum can better protect you when…”

“Like Tartarus I’m staying in here!” the Princess shouted.  “I’m a stronger caster than half of Rarity’s team put together!”

The two ancient ponies matched eyes, and Heartwing gave in with a small nod.

“Topaz, go with Emberglow.  Round up the non-combatants and civilians, and report to the Shrine of the Generous.  They’ll be safest there.  Lofty, Terminus, with me.  I wouldn’t put it past them to try for the walls in the confusion.”

The rumbling grew worse, the ground buzzing and humming with dire portent. Emberglow’s head filled with thoughts of her parents. 

Protect the civilians, Heartwing had said.  It was like he’d known what she would be worried about.  She met his eyes, and he nodded.

“Emberglow!” Topaz called, and snapped her out of her momentary panic.

“You have your orders,” Heartwing said.  “Keep our ponies safe!”

“Stay safe, darling,” Rarity called, leaning over to plant a desperate kiss right on her lips.  “I love you.”

“Love you too, Rarity,” Emberglow whispered, then turned to meet Topaz’s worried eyes before heading for the tent flap at speed.

Without another thought, Emberglow and Topaz rushed out into the chaos blossoming outside.
> Chapter 64
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 64


Priority Directive, sent from Grand Master Proud Stone to all Knights Vigilant

My loyal Knights-

The past few days have been an exercise in both perseverance and faith.  Many of you have spoken to me, or written, looking for comfort and guidance.  The Mystics have withheld their council, expecting us to find our own path and wisdom through this darkness.  No doubt they are preparing something concrete to help guide us.  Nonetheless, while we wait I shall do what I can.

There is glorious news, though.  I have been visited by Lady Applejack, both in my dreams and in my waking moments.  I did not recognize Her at first.  But the Saint of Justice has blessed me with Her direction and Her will.  It was a small voice at first, counseling me to act, to stay my hoof no longer in the pursuit of justice and the enforcement of peace.

Thus far we of the Vigilant have always relied on process, procedure, and the trappings of civilized society to undertake our duties.  It is necessary, in times of peace, to maintain these structures.

Lady Applejack has made it clear to me that we are nowhere near a time of peace, and thus a firmer hoof is required.  New Canterlot City is already beset by myriad dangers; traitors, looters, common criminals, and heretics are already taking advantage of the chaos to spread their terror among the citizenry.

Useless formalities such as trials, lengthy and expensive imprisonment, and attempts at reformation are to be set aside for now.  What we need now is stability, at the point of a spear if necessary. 

Her voice commands me every day.  If the streets must be painted with the blood of looters, traitors, and criminals, then so be it.  Hesitation will not be accepted.  The Saint of Honesty will forgive those who, through innocent mistake, may bring harm to bystanders.  As long as we work towards renewed peace, all is allowed.

Please see your superior officers if you have any questions. More detailed updates on these policies, and our plan for dealing with the traitors who are even now besieged in Diamond Home, as well as the snakes among our own ranks, will be forthcoming.  If anypony knows of any of our ‘supposed’ brothers and sisters who may have allegiance to the Seamstress’ Orphans or the Knights Angelic, they are encouraged to come forward.  Failure to do so will be considered treason and shall be dealt with via the firing squad.

This is Saint Applejack’s will.  Her voice commands me.

Proud Stone.

Canterlot Palace, 1113 AF

Rarity watched Emberglow and Topaz flee the tent, her heart pounding with worry.

She allowed herself a few seconds.  That was all she had time for; Heartwing was already barking orders at the others in the room, preparing them for the inevitable attack.  She met his eyes, and he nodded.

“Go.  I trust your discretion.”

It was a difficult thing to be a leader, Rarity knew.  The charge up the mountain had been difficult enough.

“Of course.  Princess, by my side please.”  Princess Flurry was right; her magical might would be useful.  It would also be nice to have her close.  “Bubblegum, you as well.”

She stepped outside of the tent, her compatriots in tow.  Soldiers and Knights were everywhere.  She caught a glimpse of Emberglow’s pink wings, fluttering towards their own tent.

“Be safe, my love,” she whispered, before igniting her horn.  It glowed with a blue light, and she cast a complex, but very useful spell.  It was a sympathetic spell, keyed to all the members of her command.  Each one wore an earpiece, a rather fetching silver clip-on earring that doubled as practical fashion.  She had one herself, keyed to Heartwing’s magic. In conjunction with her spell, her voice was transported right to their ears.  Even Princess Flurry wore one.

“Listen to me, all of you.  Gather at the northernmost side of the palace.  Squad Cashmere and Squad Polyester, you are to be reserves in the courtyard.  Everypony else to the walls; fill in space where we can.  Shield spells at the ready, we are expecting a landslide from above.  I shall meet you there. Let nothing through!”

She knew they could hear her.  Rarity could even make out familiar unicorns as they galloped away to follow her orders. 

The ground rumbled again under their hooves.

“Look!” Princess Flurry cried, pointing with one hoof towards the southwest.  Rarity looked.  The three Mystic airships hung in the air, but they were now pointed towards the palace.  They were steadily, inexorably approaching.

“What do we—”

“We do nothing,” Rarity said firmly, and Princess Flurry glared at her.  “We have a duty, Princess.  And you have placed yourself under my command for the duration of this fight.  I expect obedience with exactness, or I shall inform your superior officers in my after-action report.”

Princess Flurry sputtered with indignation, but Rarity saw Bubblegum hide a smile behind a hoof.  Rarity smiled to soften her stern rebuke.  “I’m not above writing a letter to your mother, Princess.  So please don’t make it necessary.  Other ponies will deal with that threat, we have our own.”

Princess Flurry nodded, perhaps a little reluctantly.  But for Rarity, the matter was settled.  She marched through the growing cacophony towards the north wall, where her soldiers were already gathering.  Squads Cashmere and Polyester were already assembled just below the ramparts.  They stood at attention, saluting Rarity and the Princess as they passed.

“Keep yourselves ready and rested,” Rarity said, pausing for a moment.  “I’ll be calling on you if any holes form in the shield.  We may be protecting the palace from a lot of mud, snow, and debris, so I’ll need your eyes wide, looking out for anyplace where the shield might be weakening.  Reserve your strength, but do not wait for orders if you see an emergency.”

Orange Zest and Foxtail, the sergeants for her two reserve squads, both nodded their assent.

“Good luck to us all,” Rarity said, even as the ground once more rumbled violently.  It seemed to roll; for a split second solid stone moved akin to the waves of the ocean.  Dust, snow, and bits of rock rained down from the walls, and the air was echoing with terrified screams. “To the wall!”

Rarity didn’t wait for the princess, her horn blazing as she pulled herself between spaces with a pop of ozone.

Startled soldiers on the wall scrambled to back away from her as she reemerged, but Rarity ignored them.  She had a job to do, and her entire focus was on the mountain peak reaching high into the sky above them.

Mount Canter was a familiar sight to Rarity; even a thousand years later, not much had changed.  The snow-capped peak rose above her like a spike, violently piercing the skies above.  The tremors were knocking vast clumps of snow loose, spinning into the air in white clouds.

“Shield spells, unicorns,” Rarity called as she poured magic through her horn.  A glacier-blue shield, faceted like a gem, took shape.  It was massive, far bigger than any Rarity could have managed in the past.  But it wasn’t enough to cover the whole wall.  Dust and pebbles started to rain down from above.  “Angle them so that the debris runs off to either side of the palace!”

A few other shields snapped into place, but there was another quake, this one strong enough to nearly drive Rarity off her hooves. The pebbles from above gave way to full-sized stones.  The first missiles were the size of a pony's head, and they slammed down the hill with enough force to rip chunks out of the ancient walls.

“What are they thinking?” a crystal pony soldier beside Rarity said, staring upwards with eyes wide.  “They’re going to destroy the entire palace!  I thought they’d want to re-take it!”

“I don’t know what they are thinking, soldier,” Rarity said to him.  “But Sir Heartwing thinks it is part of a larger plot.  Or perhaps they simply care more about destroying us. So keep your eyes open, and be ready.”

The soldier glanced nervously at the unicorns all around him and clutched his spear more tightly.  “Yes, ma’am!”

Rarity heard a flutter of wings and flicked her eyes to the side to see Flurry Heart landing right next to her.  “You didn’t have to teleport.”

“I’m glad I did,” Rarity said.  “I wasn’t a moment too soon.”

“Indeed,” the princess said.  “How can I help?”

“Shore up the walls beneath us,” Rarity said.  “If the avalanche takes out the structure we’re standing on, this critical shield goes away and we get buried in the mess. We would be vulnerable even if we survived.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Princess Flurry said, with only a hint of sarcasm in her voice at the honorific.  Rarity smirked back.

Yellow light from her horn flowed over the walls beneath them like a liquid, so bright it shined and shimmered in the wan daylight. 

“Hold fast, Princess. We’re all relying on you,” Rarity said seriously, and the Princess nodded, her mouth thin with concentration.  

The debris from above was now crashing down faster and harder, and Rarity could see unicorns all down the line straining and grunting as snow battered against their shields, flowing like liquid off the sides of the peaked barriers.

Rarity could feel the impacts against her own, the force of hundreds of tons of snow and rock continuously pounding and flowing against her magic.  She held on, barely straining despite her shield being the largest of the lot.  Twilight’s gift to her was truly coming in handy today.  If only she could do something about Emberglow’s worries, and the strange nodules of magic left behind by Twilight’s spell. 

Without warning, Rarity heard an explosion behind her.  She allowed herself a second to glance back.

In the center of the courtyard, the Discordant Knights had set up a row of three mortars.  Crews of soldiers and Knights were rushing to reload the first, which had clearly just fired.  While she watched, a second blasted off in a puff of gray smoke, sending its deadly payload in a high arc towards the incoming airships. 

The mortar shell itself was too fast to watch, but she saw as it exploded, just to the right of one of the coming airships.  It was too far away to see much detail, but the ship itself rocked to the starboard side a little from the force of the impact.  She could see the reflection of light against a shield spell as shrapnel ricocheted off the ship’s protections.

“Don’t worry about them, remember?” the princess said, her voice strained with effort.  “Isn’t that what you told me?”

“Indeed, highness,” Rarity muttered back, turning back towards the avalanche descending on their shield.

The seconds turned into minutes, and Rarity started to feel the strain.  As the snow was shunted off to either side of the palace, tumbling down the slopes below, she could see the other unicorns under her command flagging. 

“Keep strong,” she called out.  “Steel your minds, your hearts, and your horns!  Our friends are all depending on us down below!”

She didn’t know if her words were having any effect, but she could hope.

“Hold fast!” she called again.  “The avalanche cannot last forever.”

Rarity heard the princess grunt with effort beside her.  Large rocks were hammering the walls and the shield.

There was a scream to her left, and Rarity snapped her head up.  A cataclysmic roar burst through the shield, and there were cries of pain and terror.  A section of the shield was broken, and the onrushing avalanche poured through, flinging unicorns off the walls and crushing them under its fury. 

“Polyester, shore up that–”

Rarity didn’t have to finish her orders.  Unicorns from the reserve rushed up to fill the gap, their magic pushing against the flow of snow and rock.  Others frantically lifted the debris, pulling out the wounded.

Her faithful soldiers were handling things.  Rarity felt a flash of pride.

“Well done, all of you!  Evacuate the wounded to the Shrine of the Generous!  Watch for your comrades that may be about to break, and support them as they need it!”

More sections of the shield burst as unicorns grew exhausted and lost control.  But her reserve was there, filling in the gaps and carrying away the broken and tired soldiers. 

“Can you… see?” Rarity grunted to the princess, her own strength tested as she poured her magic into the shield.  “How much more might the mountain has to throw at us?”

“Not much,” Princess Flurry said.  “The motion is slowing,”

“We need to either shove what’s left off the mountain, or find a way to fully block everything off, so we don’t have to keep holding the shield!” Rarity said.  “If there’s no–”

But she didn’t get to finish.  An explosion rocked the camp, an order of magnitude greater than the mortar volleys.  She spun to look, spotting a smoking crater in the center of the courtyard.  Wounded soldiers and Knights stumbled away, and limp figures lay still.

“Wha…” Rarity looked at the enemy airships.  They were firing ordnance of their own, straight into the camp.  And they were much closer than they’d been before.

A second explosion tossed up dirt and snow, flinging cloth and tent-poles in all directions. 

The tents.

Her tent.

Rarity’s breath froze.

Her tent.

Rarity was moving without conscious thought, her hooves crashing one after the other.  She reached the edge of the battlement, and Princess Flurry’s hoof stopped her.

“No, Rarity!  If you let go now, we’ll all be crushed!”

She’d been about to teleport.  She met the Princess’ eyes and her vision was blurry.  She wanted to scream.

“Hold that line, Rarity.”  It was Heartwing’s voice, magically projected to her ear.  “There’s only so much mountain they can drop on us, and we’ll need you to rejoin the defense as soon as the avalanche has ceased!”

He didn’t know.  He hadn’t seen.  It was like…

“Look, Rarity!  Look!”

Princess Flurry was pointing with one hoof, and Rarity looked.  Over by the Shrine of the Generous, underneath a shield generated by several yellow-armored Knights Discordant, stood Emberglow.  She wasn’t looking at Rarity, but she was busy directing wounded, and those carrying them, inside the relative safety of the building.  Her parents stood behind her, looking frightened.

“She is unharmed, Rarity.  Please.  Focus.”

Rarity glanced back up.  Her own shield was bowing, bending under the weight it held back.  The avalanche had slowed to a mere fraction of what it had been before.

“A-any reserve left, use your telekinesis,” Rarity stammered.  She felt raw and shaken, brought to the brink of disaster and then pulled back.  “Push as much as possible off the sides.  Stabilize what’s left.  We can worry about repairs later when everypony is safe.”

The airships were growing closer, and Rarity worried that her soldiers would soon be urgently needed elsewhere.  More explosions in the courtyard scattered dirt and shrapnel everywhere.  Cannons on the decks of the Mystic ships flashed with deadly fire.  They were nearly directly over the palace, now, and Rarity gasped as dozens of purple-armored pegasi darted out from the sides of the ships, protected by glowing shields as they dove towards the palace grounds.

“Enemy Knights incoming!” somepony from the grounds shouted.  It sounded like Heartwing.  “Get them on the ground!  Take away their advantage!”

Soldiers and Knights fired bolts of magic at the descending pegasi, who stayed clustered in a tight spearhead formation as they plowed towards the ground.

“They’re trying to form a beachhead,” Rarity guessed, sparing a glance.  “To safely land whoever else is on their airships.  We can’t let them.”

The work with the avalanche was almost done, and then she could act.

“Rarity!” It was Heartwing.  “They’re using their artillery to clear a landing spot.  I need your unicorns to pressure the enemy on the ground, to keep them from their objective!  Lady Snow is forming a center line of Knights.  Your soldiers need to form up behind her!”

“You heard, princess?” Rarity said, and Flurry nodded.  Bubblegum stood firm next to her, itching to enter the fray.  “Stay close to me, at my side.  You and I shall lead the reserve units, while the rest of the unicorns on the wall will finish with the avalanche.”  Heartwing had sounded worried.  There had to be a reason the Mystic pegasi were trying to insert themselves right in the middle of the defended courtyard, rather than trying the safer routes of a siege or an assault outside the walls.  It worried her, too.

“Yes, Rarity,” Flurry saluted.  In the back of Rarity’s head, a part of her wanted to giggle at the far older alicorn so eagerly following her orders.  With a nod, she lit her horn, teleporting back down to the central courtyard.

The sound changed instantly; instead of the oppressive rumble of the avalanche, now she could more clearly hear the dissonant music of war.  Weapons scraped against armor, cannons roared, and ponies screamed battle cries at each other. 

Flurry appeared with a pop a second later, her faithful bodyguard clinging onto one hoof.  Bubblegum didn’t look bothered by the movement; instead, she had a sort of dazed excitement on her face.  Rarity remembered Emberglow mentioning that the mare was a bit of a thrill seeker.

“Orange Zest!  Foxtail!  Form up behind me!  The rest of you, once the avalanche is stable, you are the rearguard and relief!” she called out, using her own enchantment.  Even over the chaos of battle, she could hear the shouted orders of other officers.  Her own unicorns galloped to follow her command, forming two lines behind her.

“We’re to act as support for Lady Snow and her Knights.  Keep the pressure on their line, shield our own when you can, and try to stop whatever it is the dastardly Mystics are trying to do.”

Several had landed in the cannon-scarred courtyard, and several more were flooding in off of the airships.  They were up close and personal with the yellow-clad Knights, exchanging blows with spears and spells.

Rarity could see that the unicorns among the Discordant specifically were being targeted by the Mystics.  She watched as two purple armored bullies bore down on one of them, the first Mystic pinning the unicorn down, while the second lined up a sharp thrust from his spear. 

A beam of yellow force slammed into the second Mystic.  His shield spell held, but the sheer force of the attack drove the Knight back and away from his victim.  Flurry Heart was seething with rage, and nearly plowed forward, but then held herself back with a glance at Rarity.

“No, you have the right idea,” Rarity said softly to her, before lighting her horn for the communication spell again.

“They’re targeting unicorns!  Even the odds and support our Knights!”

A cheer went up from her soldiers, and they followed Flurry Heart’s example.  Keeping their distance, each unicorn began firing off beams of force towards the attackers.

But even with the help, it was a nightmare.  The Discordant were holding their own, but as more and more armored Knights poured down from the airship they were quickly becoming overwhelmed.

The regular soldiers among them were not faring well.  Rarity watched as a Knight thrust a spear through a Diamond Dog in Empire colors, too fast for her to react.  The dog fell, blood spurting from his chest.  She still blasted the Knight for good measure, sending her sprawling, but it was too late for the soldier.

All around them more were falling, The Mystics pressing them back with each wounded or dead Discordant.  Rarity’s soldiers fell back, keeping their distance and range advantage between themselves and the front line. 

And that was when the cannons struck again.

Not on the Discordant in front of them, but right over their heads.  Rarity didn’t have time to react before something slammed into her.  Her ears filled with the sound of cannonballs screaming through the air, and somepony shouting, and her world lurched and flew.

She hit the ground with a thud, something heavy lying on top of her, pressing her down.  Her ribs ached from the impact, and one of her hind legs had twisted painfully under her. 

Rarity took a second to breathe before opening her eyes.  Bubblegum had leapt to intercept, shoving her aside as soon as the cannonball hit.  But that meant…

“Princess…” she coughed.

“Right here, Rarity,” a voice from above Bubblegum said, even as the Knight scrambled off Rarity.  She could make out the outline of the Princess’ shield above them.  “Are you hurt?”

Bubblegum’s expression mirrored her own concern as she looked Rarity over.

“I’m fine, thanks to your bodyguard,” Rarity said.

“It’s a clumsy way to get a mare to mount you, Rarity,” Bubblegum said with a smirk, as soon as she appeared satisfied that Rarity was unharmed.  “Besides, I’m married, and you’re committed to Miss Blush-a-lot.”  She held out a hoof to help Rarity up.

“Cute,” Rarity said sardonically, as she pulled herself to her hooves with Bubblegum’s help.  Quickly she reoriented herself back on the battle.

Her unicorns had responded to the threat from above, casting their shields above the fighting, a few of them even firing up at the airships.  Something buzzed in her ear.  Heartwing’s voice.

“Rarity!  Rarity, are you…”

“I’m fine, Heartwing.  Bubblegum and the princess protected me.   What do we…”

There was another furious whistle of artillery, and all three ponies ducked instinctively.  The explosion bounced right off the shield above them, making Flurry Heart grunt.  There was an overwhelming sound, and then suddenly nothing as all Rarity could hear was a high-pitched whine.

She looked up.  Flurry’s mouth was moving.  Bubblegum’s was too. 

Slowly the whine receded, and Rarity could hear the sounds of battle again.  Screams.  Explosions.  Screams.  Metal clashing against metal.  Screams.

And then Heartwing’s voice in her ear.

“…we’re being overrun in the courtyard, I’m sending in fliers to try to take the pressure off of you,” he was saying, and Rarity looked up in time to see a squad of armored pegasi up above.  Terminus’ black form was among them as they charged towards the airships.

“Good,” Rarity managed, coughing.  “We need the assistance.”

She glanced back towards the forward line, which was bowing in their direction.  There was now a clear open space in the courtyard, where several Mystics were not fighting.  Instead, the pegasi Mystics were bringing down earth ponies, who were busily casting spells with their gauntlets.  Some kind of shield, so they could establish a foothold?  Or something more sinister?

“We have to keep the pressure on them,” Rarity said, even as fear started to grow in her chest.  “We can’t let them succeed.  Squads Cashmere and Polyester, ranged support. The rest of you are with me. We’re taking the fight to them.  Heartwing, darling?  If you can hear me, I could use whatever help you can offer.”

Bubblegum was staring at her, looking both worried and determined.  “Rarity, the princess shouldn’t…”

“Knight Bubblegum, I shall be accompanying Rarity into the fray.  I hope you’ll stay at my side.”

Rarity knew she should object. The battlefield was no place for a princess.

The battlefield was no place for a fashionista, either.  The incongruence struck her hard.

She’d rather be anywhere else in the world right now. 

Suddenly an image flashed before her eyes: a young foal, standing behind the curtain at her first fashion show.  The breath caught in her throat, her eyes searching for every imperfection, every mistake, every worst-case scenario that could go wrong during her debut.  Her stomach seemed to flutter and dance.

This was a thousand times worse.  It wasn’t dark, like Rarity’s charge up the mountain, so she saw every wounded, every fallen, every mud-spattered plate of armor and every blood-soaked spear.

Rarity felt herself freezing up.

She didn’t belong here.

She didn’t…

“Rarity!”

Bubblegum’s voice snapped her gaze up.

“We need you!”

Three simple words. 

But in Bubblegum’s eyes Rarity saw so much more.  Sympathy.  Empathy.  The weight of experience.  Compassion.  But also desperation.  Hope.  And fear.

Bubblegum was afraid too.  But Bubblegum was ready to charge.

“Okay.  Thank you.”  Rarity took a breath.  And then another.  There was something Emberglow had told her once, about counting down from ten in emergency situations.  With each breath, she let out her worries, her anxieties, her fears, her despair.

Rarity didn’t have ten seconds.  She did what she could with one last, long exhale. 

“Princess, at your leisure, we can—”

The princess’ return smile was fierce.  There was no hesitation and no fear in her eyes.  It was inspiring.  She also didn’t even wait for Rarity to finish speaking, surging forward into a canter so suddenly that Rarity and Bubblegum had to leap to catch up.  Her horn blazed with a furious yellow, and her hooves pounded the mud with violent intent.

“Keep your foul hooves and tainted magic away from this place!” Princess Flurry howled, her battle cry rising over the din of battle.  “You do not belong!  You never did!  This is not your home!  You have no right to claim it!”

Each statement was punctuated by a blast of magic mighty enough to hurl Mystics through the air.

Rarity saw the effect it had on her own soldiers.  Unicorns who looked tired, frightened, and confused suddenly brightened up at her shout.

Rarity saw an opportunity.

Being a seamstress and a fashionista required creativity, adaptability, and an eye for detail.  All were skills that translated into military command.  And Rarity wouldn’t be the pony she was if she didn’t know how to leap at an opportunity.  She lit her horn so her soldiers would hear her voice.

“Ponies, we’re going to create a wedge, to disrupt whatever foul ritual those in the middle are surely casting!  Reserves, fill in behind us!”

“Support coming on the north flank!”

Heartwing’s voice in Rarity’s ear filled her with hope, even as her heart pounded.  She ran alongside Flurry, glancing to the left in time to see a flash of colorful movement.

It was a single squad of changelings.  Just about six of them, not even enough for the Mystics to take real notice.  Until they all exploded in a choreographed flash of green fire.

It was no longer six changelings.  It was six elephants, each one towering over the enemy by several pony heights.  Screams of rage and terror erupted from the north flank as an avalanche of their own plowed through the Knights Mystic.

Rarity didn’t have more time to look.  They were practically in the middle of the fight.  Bubblegum surged ahead of them, her spear-tip leveled towards the enemy.  Rarity had expected her to charge fully into the fray but she held back, eyes alert and darting about, watching for any threat.

And the threats did come.  Princess Flurry Heart was quite the spectacle, towering over nearly everypony on the battlefield.  Rarity was close enough to see the disdainful sneer in the expression of a pegasus mare as she rounded towards them, moving away from the newly downed Discordant she pulled her spear out of.

“Abomination!” she howled, and several other nearby Mystics took note, forming up around her.  Now Bubblegum set her hooves for a charge.

“Remember, Princess, they…”

Princess Flurry didn’t wait to see what Bubblegum was going to remind her.  Her horn blazed, and Rarity heard Flurry’s grunt of effort.

With a shout, the Mystics were thrown in the air, tossed away like rag-dolls, limbs flailing.  They slammed into the mud, and began to scramble to their hooves.  They weren’t very far.

“Remember that their armor has enchantments that resist telekinesis,” Bubblegum finished.  “You can’t just throw them around!”

“Think creatively, darling,” Rarity said as Flurry scowled.  She lit her own horn for telekinesis, but instead of targeting the Mystics, she lifted the frigid mud right in front of them, flinging it outwards even as they resumed their charge. She certainly would have hated having mud hurled in her face.

She tried not to think about how much of it was dirty slush and how much was the blood of her allies and enemies.

But it was enough inspiration for Flurry Heart; her golden magic ripped along the ground, tearing a huge gouge even as the earth trembled beneath Rarity’s hooves.  It was violent and sudden, and their foes, partially blinded by Rarity’s thrown mud, struggled to keep their balance, wings fluttering furiously.  It completely broke the momentum of the counter-charge, and Rarity surged forward alongside Bubblegum.

The Mystic in the front, the cruel-looking pegasus mare, didn’t have time to find her balance before Bubblegum’s spear-shaft jerked up, slamming into her chin.  Her head whipped back, and Bubblegum didn’t waste the chance, slamming the blade into her throat. 

The spray of blood spattered on Rarity’s own armor and coat, and she had to suppress her stomach’s reaction.  Now wasn’t the time.  She could melt down later. 

Bubblegum wasn’t fazed at all by the killing; she continued on, stabbing at the other Mystics.  Flurry kept up her barrage of magic, tearing small rifts in the ground and keeping the enemy ponies off balance.  Rarity began to pick up broken paving stones, flinging them like projectiles.

At this close range she could hear the crunch as they slammed into armor and flesh.

“Can you see what they’re trying to do?” Rarity said as she picked up another stone.  She tried not to think of the sharp, jagged edge on one side as she fired it towards a howling Mystic who was mere hoof-lengths from Flurry.  “I can’t make it out!”

“No, but we’re almost there!”

The earth pony Mystics were in a circle, their gauntlets all glowing silver.  Rarity tried to fling a rock their way, but it shattered against an invisible barrier.  They were shielded. 

Suddenly the battlefield was rent by a tremendous trumpet of pain, and Rarity looked up in time to see one of the elephant changelings careening towards them.  She altered her magic, dropping the rocks she was holding in order to pull Flurry and Bubblegum back in time for the massive body to splatter into the mud, right where they’d been standing.  A dozen spears, some broken, jutted obscenely out of the poor creature’s body, and then with a pitiful flash of green light, there was nothing but a young changeling in the crater the elephant’s body had left behind in the mud.

The pink-and-red figure was completely still.  Even Rarity could tell their insectoid eyes were devoid of life.  She felt a pang of guilt and sorrow.

“Rarity!”

Bubblegum’s voice was full of horror and alarm, and Rarity whipped her head away from the dead changeling and towards where Bubblegum was pointing.  It was the circle of Mystic casters.

They had completed whatever they were working on.

Every gauntlet in the circle flashed brightly enough with silvery light that Rarity had to shield her eyes.  From the cries of pain and alarm she could hear around her, she wasn’t the only one.  A webwork of silvery-greenish light flashed along the ground, spreading out all around them and crawling up the walls.

Rarity felt a thrill of fear that started in her gut, and instinctively she cast a shield, large enough to cover the three of them.  Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.

The earth pony Mystics let out a cry of victory as the webwork of wicked-looking light flashed again and then disappeared.

“What—” Rarity began, but then cried out as her stomach clenched in pain.  It was like lightning jerking from her horn all the way down her spine, before spasming in her stomach and intestines.  With a lurch, she retched, bile in her throat as a wave of nausea crashed through her.

She wasn’t the only one feeling sick; all around her unicorns fell, clenching stomachs and moaning in pain as they were struck by sudden illness.  Several were vomiting, Rarity noted in horror, as her own stomach clenched and roiled.

“Rarity?  Rarity!”

She could hear Bubblegum’s voice, but it sounded distant.  Even Flurry Heart was coughing and choking.

“What… what just happened?”

Heartwing’s voice in her ear sounded just like Rarity felt.  He was clearly feeling the same.  “U-unicorns!  It’s done something to our magic!”

Sure enough, Rarity’s shield was flickering and fading.  She let it drop, and suddenly her stomach pain eased.  It was still awful, but she no longer felt like vomiting.

It was her magic.  Somehow they’d cast a spell to make unicorn magic make them sick.

The thought brought a wave of crushing horror.  The Mystics had somehow managed to turn off their access to one of their greatest advantages.

Her horror was reflected in Princess Flurry’s eyes as well.  With a grimace of pain, and a visible paling of her face, Flurry lit her horn.

“Heartwing, what do we do?” Flurry hissed out.

The Mystics were advancing slowly and cautiously.  Rarity could see the wary apprehension in their eyes as they watched Flurry, to see how well their vile spell worked on the alicorn.

Rarity forced herself to her hooves.  She couldn’t take her eyes off the advancing enemy, but she tried to see if she could spot a spare weapon in her periphery.  Bubblegum was at her side, spear ready, expression grim.

“Here,” Bubblegum said, picking up the closest abandoned spear and passing it to Rarity quickly, as if she had read Rarity’s mind. 

Rarity barely knew how to use a spear.  Her heart pounded as she pointed it at the Knights.  They looked huge, even though she knew it was a trick of her mind.  Knights were no bigger than any other pony, but they were stronger.

The looks of disgust they shot her horn filled Rarity with cold fear. 

It didn’t help that all around them, the sounds of battle were becoming the sounds of a massacre.  Rarity’s unicorns, her faithful soldiers who had followed her fearlessly into battle, were down, most writhing in pain. 

Rarity wailed as she saw the Mystics moving among them.

Spears plunged.

Ponies screamed.

Ponies fell silent.

Rarity tried to light her horn.  The nausea ripped through her like a wave, and her stomach lurched. There was nothing she could do to prevent the slaughter.

There was a howl of fury, loud enough to send an icicle of agony through Rarity’s already overwhelmed mind.

It was Flurry.

Her horn blazed, and even though Rarity knew just how much it must have hurt her to do so, she could see the overwhelming power crackling from the Princess’ horn.

“You will not harm my ponies!” she roared, eyes blazing with fury and magic.  “I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!”

“What…” Bubblegum whispered, sounding frightened.  The three Mystics advancing on them paused, looking wary.

“Look!” Rarity pointed with her spear, up at the sun.

The very fires of the heavens were responding to Flurry Heart’s command.

“You violate this sacred place!”

Flurry’s voice was not the voice of a single pony, but rather the echoing boom of royal command.  Rarity remembered a Nightmare Night, centuries ago, when Princess Luna had visited Ponyville, and the Royal Canterlot Voice.

But this wasn’t endearing or awkward.  This was terrifying.  Even as the Princess stood tall, defending her charges, Rarity wanted to cower.

“You bring death and misery, and leave nothing worthwhile in their wake!” Flurry roared, and every ear nearby pinned back.  Yellow magic flared from her horn, and bolts of sun-fire lashed out from it, like lightning in broad daylight.  She appeared to be brushing off the strange ailment that had struck each of the unicorns.

“YOU HAVE ALL FORGOTTEN!” she roared.  “YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT A GODDESS WALKS EQUESTRIA NOW!  YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN WHO RAISES THE SUN AT DAYBREAK, AND RAISES THE MOON AT TWILIGHT!”

The very air vibrated with her anger.  Flurry spread her wings, and Rarity found little comfort in the shade cast by the feathers.

“What is happening?” Bubblegum hissed, her voice cold with terror.

“She’s been holding herself back,” Rarity said, her throat dry.  “But no longer. She is an immortal, Bubblegum.  And she commands the power of the sun and the moon.  We—”

There was no more snow on the ground, Rarity realized.  It was getting hotter.  Tongues of plasma lashed about the battlefield, slamming against Mystics, tossing them aside with screams of pain.

“Princess!  The spell!” Rarity shouted.

The earth pony Mystics were still standing in a circle.  As fire danced through the air about them, the white-hot energy splashed against the shield they were still behind.

“They’re still shielded!”

Breaking that spell was their only chance.  The unicorns were defenseless.  But Princess Flurry…

Rarity was afraid she was beyond reason. Just as she had nearly let herself succumb to fear, Flurry may very well be lost to anger.

The princess leapt into the air, her wings moving in powerful, slow strokes.

“PRINCESS!” Rarity screamed, and Bubblegum leapt forward, trying to chase.  Rarity moved behind her.

They caught the first Mystics by surprise.  Bubblegum bowled the first one over with her charge, and Rarity scrambled behind.  His comrade tried to stop them, and Rarity, unthinking, lit her horn for a blast of magic.

She saw stars and felt something hit her chest and face, hard.

It was the ground.

Rarity’s head spun, and as she tried to look up from the mud-soaked ground, her eyes wouldn’t focus.

Bubblegum was running ahead, trying to reach the Princess.

Flurry was blazing through the air towards the shielded circle of Mystics.

Rarity’s stomach hurt.  Her horn hurt.  Her head hurt.  And the Mystics around her took notice.

Belatedly she realized she’d dropped her spear when she fell.

“Lay still, deceiver, and I’ll make this quick,” one stallion said.

He didn’t hesitate.  He lifted his spear.

Rarity struggled to get her hooves underneath her.  She didn’t want to die laying in the mud.

She couldn’t stand; her hooves were too weak.  She clenched her eyes shut, taking her last breath.

Screaming.

The stallion was screaming, and something was burning.

Rarity opened her eyes.  The Mystic who had been about to end her life was on fire.  He writhed on the ground, trying to smother the flames but the red blaze angrily refused to stop.  Rarity watched with horror as his armor began to glow, melting into his flesh even as he screamed in agony. 

It was one of the longest few seconds of Rarity’s life, and she crawled away from the horror, emptying her stomach.

“THERE.  YOU ARE SAFE.”

The voice was cruelty and rage, unnatural and terrifying and wrong even as it spoke words of comfort.  Rarity looked up, already expecting what she saw.

It was Princess Flurry, but it was not.  Her mane, once flowing and beautiful like tufts of cloud, was now flat and straight, beginning as a cold blue before blazing to life at the ends in embers of dancing flames.  Her eyes were slitted, like Nightmare Moon’s had been, all those years ago.

There was no kindness in those eyes, only vengeance and cold fire.

Having turned back to aid her, Bubblegum rushed up, out of breath.  She was covered in mud and soot.  It wasn’t hard to see where the soot was coming from.  All around them, fires burned.  Rarity did her best not to think about what it was that was burning. Though the stench made that rather difficult.

“STAND UP, RARITY.  WE HAVE WORK TO DO.”

“Princess, what—”

“I HAVE OUTGROWN THAT TITLE,” Flurry said, her gaze shifting off to the north.  Towards the empire.  “LIKE MY GREAT AUNT, THE NIGHTMARE HERSELF.  NO LONGER SHALL ANY REFER TO ME AS PRINCESS.  BESIDES, IT IS PAST TIME FOR MY DEAR MOTHER TO HAVE REST.  I SHALL TAKE HER PLACE, ONCE I HAVE CLEANSED THESE LANDS OF CORRUPTION.  AS I HAVE CLEANSED THOSE WHO SULLIED THIS HOLY PLACE WITH FOUL MAGIC.”

Bubblegum glanced behind her, and Rarity couldn’t help herself.  The earth pony Mystics who had been hiding behind the shield were gone.  In their place was a smoldering pile of limp figures.

Rarity gulped.  It was an effort to keep her mind focused; it was as if the whole world had gone mad. She tried to block out everything else. “If you do not wish to be called Princess, what should I call you, then?”

Rarity felt herself trembling.  There was a pause, and she could hear the battle around them, still ongoing, though it was turning in their favor.  Several Mystics were down.  Most were still smoldering.

Rarity was grateful when Flurry’s voice brought her from her observations.

“I SHALL BE EMPRESS, RARITY,” Flurry said, her voice shaking the ground.  “EMPRESS OF ICE, AND EMPRESS OF FIRE.  GODDESS OF THE SUN AND THE MOON.  YOU MAY CALL ME… PARHELION.”

“But I’m not sure Empress Cadance shall—”

“IT IS NOT YOUR CONCERN.”

The Empress’ horn lit, and Rarity noted, with some surprise, that it was not Flurry’s usual yellow, but rather a baleful orange.  Suddenly, Rarity was jerked to her hooves, pulled upright by a strong, yet somehow gentle grip.  It didn’t stop her from yelping in surprise.

“Be careful, Empress!” Bubblegum shouted her objection.  “Rarity is still your friend.”

The Empress turned her gaze on her bodyguard, and for a moment Rarity was certain Bubblegum was about to be struck down for her temerity.  But despite the fear in Bubblegum’s eyes, she stood her ground. 

“SHE IS, BUBBLEGUM.  AS ARE YOU.  AND ALL THESE CREATURES WHO CAME WITH ME.  AND I WILL KEEP THEM SAFE.  I WILL MAKE THE WORLD SAFE.”

She turned back to Rarity.

“GO COLLECT TOPAZ.  A TRUE EMPRESS RECOGNIZES WHEN SHE MADE A MISTAKE, AND I OWE HER AN APOLOGY.”

“An apology?  Why—”

“BECAUSE SHE WAS RIGHT.  I SHOULD NEVER HAVE HELD MYSELF BACK.  THE FURY OF THE SUN, THE CALLOUS WINDS OF THE COLD NORTH, THESE SHOULD HAVE SCOURGED THIS EVIL FROM THE LAND AGES AGO.”

“Empress, I don’t think—”

“DO AS I COMMAND, RARITY.  WE DON’T HAVE MUCH TIME BEFORE THE RECKONING BEGINS.”

It was with a new sort of fear, and shaky hooves, that Rarity rushed off towards the Shrine of the Generous. What exactly was her friend becoming?


*   *   *   *   *


Rarity didn’t have to go far, for which she was grateful.  Topaz was already rushing out to meet them, weaving through the busy ponies outside the Shrine.  The tiny building was overfilled; wounded from both sides, many with horrific burns, were being laid on emergency cots outside the building.  Rarity looked for Emberglow, but could not see her.

“What—”

Rarity didn’t let her finish.  “Princess Flurry has had an incident, Topaz, and we need your help.  Do your people tell the tales of Nightmare Moon?”

Topaz paled.

“Oh, no…” she moaned.  “Grandmother—”

“We don’t have time for a long conversation,” Rarity said.  “The ‘Parhelion Empress’ demands your presence.  Maybe you can help stop her from doing something terrible.”

“She can’t have…”

“She did.  Just like Luna.  It was sudden and…” Rarity gulped and turned back towards the battlefield, where she could see the towering form of the twisted alicorn as she rapidly turned the tide of battle. 

“B-but,” Topaz said, even as she rushed up alongside Rarity.  “We don’t have what you had when you defeated the Nightmare.  How can we—”

“I don’t know, Topaz.  But we have to try.”  Rarity had to hope.  “Maybe she can be reasoned with. At least she still seems to care for us.”  She paused, remembering.  “She isn’t as… nightmarish as Nightmare Moon was.  She still has feathery wings, and her color palette isn’t so… hostile.”

“I’ll do my best!” Topaz said. 

But the Empress was starting to move their way already.  Whatever her reason, Rarity nonetheless felt a pit in her stomach.

Bubblegum stood in front of the Empress.  She had dropped her spear, and her hooves were spread wide.  The Empress’ expression was a stormfront of fury, and her orange-slit eyes blazed.  Her horn was already lit.

“YOU WILL GET OUT OF MY WAY, KNIGHT BUBBLEGUM, OR YOU WILL BE MOVED.”

“Empress, please.  Our own wounded are there.”

“AS ARE THE WOUNDED OF THE USURPERS.  THEY GAVE UP THEIR RIGHT TO LIVE THE MOMENT THEY…”

The Empress paused, glancing up at Topaz and Rarity’s approach.

“AH.  DUCHESS TOPAZ.  THE THRONE OWES YOU ITS DEEPEST APOLOGIES.  WE REGRET OUR ARGUMENTS IN THE PAST.  YOU WERE RIGHT THE WHOLE TIME.  WE SHOULD HAVE LISTENED, AND INTERVENED SOONER.  A GREAT NUMBER OF DEATHS WOULD HAVE BEEN PREVENTED.”

There was genuine sorrow behind the cold gaze of those eyes, and for a moment it gave Rarity hope.

“PLEASE INFORM KNIGHT BUBBLEGUM THAT WE HAVE NO WISH TO DO FURTHER HARM TO OUR PONIES.  WE SHALL MOVE HER IF NECESSARY, BUT WE WILL BE DESTROYING THE ENEMY KNIGHTS AND SQUIRES TAKING REFUGE IN THE SHRINE RIGHT NOW.”

“You mean… the wounded?” Topaz recoiled.  “Grandma, no!  You can’t!”

“I AM THE PARHELION EMPRESS.  I CAN IF I SAY I CAN, DUCHESS.  AND YOU WILL NOT FORESTALL ME.”

“Oh yes I will!” Topaz shouted, stomping her hoof.  Rarity could see the fear making her limbs weak.  “I’m not going to let you slaughter ponies that are no longer a threat.  And that’s not even counting the Radiants and the Angelic!  They’re neutral!”

“YOU ARE CORRECT,” the Empress said.  “AMBROSIA AND FEATHER BOLT HAVE, THUS FAR, KEPT THEIR KNIGHTS IN LINE.  MY FURY SHALL NOT DESCEND ON THEM, UNLESS THEY CHOOSE TO PROTECT THE CRIMINALS IN THEIR CARE.”

“They will, Grandma,” Topaz said.  “They’ll fight, and you’ll kill innocent ponies.  Ponies that want nothing more than to heal the wounded.”

“TO HEAL OUR ENEMIES!  TO HEAL THOSE THAT USE TRICKERY AND DECEPTION TO SLAUGHTER OUR PEOPLE!  IF THEY SIDE WITH THOSE THAT WOULD DO MY PEOPLE HARM, REGARDLESS OF THEIR INTENTIONS, THEN I SHALL BURN THEM OFF MY MOUNTAIN!”

Topaz shared a glance with Rarity.  She looked lost.

“Darling, I think it really would be best,” Rarity said, subtly moving up alongside Topaz and Bubblegum, “If we spoke with Heartwing about all of this.  I’m sure he—”

“DO NOT PATRONIZE ME, RARITY.  I AM FULLY CAPABLE OF MAKING MY OWN DECISIONS; BETTER DECISIONS THAN THAT CREATURE.”

It seemed there was still some buried animosity there.  Or perhaps Flurry’s transformation had drawn it out.  Still, Rarity lit her horn, ready to summon Heartwing herself.

“YOU WILL NOT REBEL AGAINST ME, RARITY.  I AM THE EMPRESS, MY WORD IS LAW.”

Rarity felt a pressure on her horn, almost disturbingly like the sensation of the wretched spell from before.  With a gulp, she stopped trying.

“Grandmother, please.  We only wish to help,” Topaz begged.  “Rarity only wishes to help.  Heartwing only wishes to help!  Let us aid you!”

“HEARTWING HAS HIS OWN TASK.  LAST I SAW, HE AND SOME OF THE OTHERS WERE MOVING TO OBLITERATE THE AIRSHIPS.  HIS PRESENCE, AND HIS DUBIOUS WISDOM, ARE NOT NEEDED HERE.”

Rarity spared a glance towards the airships.  Two were in full retreat; the third was on fire, slowly listing.  From a distance she could see Knights on board, scrambling off the sides as fire consumed the rest of the ship.

Even though it was Mystics, she still couldn’t watch as they plummeted.

“Empress, please!  Look at what is happening!  The battle is over!  We won, because of you!” Rarity pleaded.  “We don’t need for there to be any more death or destruction!  Let there be peace!”

“THERE WILL BE NO PEACE UNTIL EVERY DIARCHY SOLDIER IS ASH!” The Empress’ roar filled the air, and everypony in Old Canterlot cringed.  The sun seemed to blaze along with her fury, for a moment burning through the omnipresent snow clouds up above.

It was a temporary thing, and the gloom was back a moment later.

“Don’t you see?” Rarity said.  “This won’t work!  You can’t fight hatred with hatred, Flurry.  That only begets more hatred!”

She pointed up at the skies, at the thick clouds still gathering over New Canterlot.

“Don’t you remember why we came?  To save these ponies from the weather!  From the influence of windigoes!  And you can’t do that this way!  Look, please!”

And, miraculously, Flurry Heart looked.

Rarity held her breath as the Empress was silent.  Finally she spoke.

“VERY WELL. I WILL LISTEN TO HEARTWING FOR THE MOMENT.  I WILL NOT DESTROY THE WOUNDED YET.  BUT THEIR LIVES BELONG TO ME.  IF EVEN ONE OF THEM STEPS OUT OF LINE, THEIR SCREAMS WILL BE HEARD DOWN TO THE CITY.”

The Empress turned back to Rarity.

“I THINK IT IS A MISTAKE, RARITY.  THESE PONIES WILL DISAPPOINT YOU.  THEY ARE NOT WORTHY OF YOUR MERCY.  AND WHEN YOU ARE PROVEN WRONG, I WILL CORRAL THEM AND WATCH.  LET THEM BE CONSUMED BY THEIR HATE AND LET THEIR HEARTS FREEZE IN THE BLIZZARD THAT FOLLOWS.”

“Thank you, Empress,” Topaz said, bowing.  “You are very wise.”

“DON’T YOU PATRONIZE ME EITHER, DUCHESS,” the Empress warned, her baleful eyes narrowed.  “YOU ARE ALL ON THIN ICE.”

“There was a time, grandmother,” Topaz said, “when you valued my opinions, no matter how controversial.  You appreciated somepony who could keep you honest, and stop you from making poor decisions.  No matter how angry I make you.”

The Empress was silent for a long time.  Finally she spoke.

“TREAD CAREFULLY, DUCHESS.  TREAD CAREFULLY, KNIGHT BUBBLEGUM.  AND YOU AS WELL, RARITY.  I SHALL BE IN THE COMMAND TENT.  FIND HEARTWING QUICKLY, AND MEET ME THERE.”

She turned her head to the crowd of ponies that had started to gather.

“MY BELOVED PEOPLE, MY WONDERFUL SUBJECTS.  THE DIARCHY IS ON BORROWED TIME.  SOON WE SHALL ALL BE SAFE FROM ITS EVIL.”

For some reason, the declaration didn’t make Rarity feel any safer.  She swallowed, her throat dry, as she stared at the Empress.  Without another word, the Empress turned, marching all the way back to the command tent.

After one last worried glance at Rarity and Topaz, Bubblegum followed closely behind.

“Well, that was… something,” Rarity said, and Topaz laughed hysterically.  “What do we do?”

“I have no idea,” Topaz breathed.  “Bring Heartwing.  He’ll have something.”

“I sure hope so.”  She lit her horn, summoning the communication spell.  “Heartwing, darling?  We have a development, if you haven’t heard yet.  We need you at the command tent.”

It was a long time before Rarity heard the response.  Something was wrong; Rarity could only hear one word out of every two or three.

“…soon…Rarity…line…there to help.  Flurry…hear…fire.”

“Darling, I can’t make out what you’re saying.  Please hurry.”  It must have been the disruptive spell from earlier.

“…train tracks…more…let Princess…”

Topaz was staring at her, and Rarity shook her head.

“I can’t tell what he’s saying,” she said.  “Something about the train tracks?  We should let the Empress know.”

“You’re allowing her the title?” Topaz asked.

Rarity shrugged.  “I don’t know if ‘allow’ is the right word, darling.  I don’t think I can stop her.  Could you?”

Topaz gulped, and shook her head.

“Come.  Let’s meet her at the command tent and hope Heartwing will be there soon.”

By now, the noise of battle had quieted.  What few remnants of Mystics that hadn’t been burned by the Empress were surrendering, and either limping off or being carried to the Shrine of the Generous.  The unicorns of Rarity’s squad, those who survived the disastrous charge and subsequent massacre, were hard at work clearing out the piles of snow and rock that remained from the avalanche.  Discordant healers moved among the fallen, performing triage.  It was as if the adrenaline of the fight had collapsed into a sort of slumped silence.

But for Rarity, the fight was still going.  Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.  This new danger, this new twisted alicorn, was not what she’d expected.  She longed for Emberglow’s presence, but she was sure the poor dear was busier than Rarity was, healing the wounded.

At her side, Topaz was just as nervous.  It was obvious in her gait, jerky and stiff as if she were ready to jump in any direction.  It was obvious in her expression, fear and sorrow warring for a place on her muzzle.  Rarity felt compelled to comfort her.

“Don’t worry too much, Topaz.  We’ll find a way to fix this.”  It wasn’t as if she felt that confident herself.  But she knew the mare needed to hear words of support, and Topaz’ wan smile proved it.  Rarity pushed just a little bit more. “Besides, darling.  I’ve dealt with crazed dark alicorns before.  I’m experienced.”

Topaz’ smirk let Rarity know that the false confidence was a touch obvious, but she didn’t challenge Rarity on it.  Instead, they walked in silence the rest of the way through the artillery-scarred battlefield.

The command tent had collapsed; its canvas tarp in charred tatters still draped sadly over broken poles.  A crater in the center told the story of what had happened to it.

The Empress stood, tall and regal, in the center of the wreckage, waiting impatiently.  Next to her stood Bubblegum, her face stoic and alert.  But they weren’t alone; various Crystal Empire officers and high-ranked Discordant milled about, waiting for instructions.

The Empress’ wings were spread wide, as if she were ready to spring into the air at a moment’s notice. Rarity was taken aback by their span.  She was sure it was longer than before.  And was Flurry taller…?

Rarity didn’t want to think of the implications.

“What does it mean?  She’s… bigger?” Topaz asked.  “Why did it happen?  When it happened to Luna, what triggered it?”

“I don’t know,” Rarity admitted.  “We only featured in the tail end of that story.  I know that Luna was twisted because of her jealousy and loneliness.”

“So what happened to Princess Flurry?”

Rarity sighed.  “Please understand this is a guess, but… I think seeing the unicorns being slaughtered, unable to defend themselves, broke her.  She has been holding back her ire for centuries, I think.  And she no longer wishes to.”

There was a piece of Rarity that did not blame her.  But that was beside the point now.

“We might have to figure out how to help her without the Elements,” Topaz said fearfully.  “Because right now she’s a liability.”

“Heartwing will help,” Rarity said. “Besides, see her wings?  Still the wings of a pegasus, not the Nightmare that I faced with my friends.  There’s still hope.”

She had to believe that.

“IS HEARTWING ON HIS WAY?”

The Empress sounded as impatient as she looked, accosting them with the booming power of her voice before they fully reached the tent. 

“I spoke with him via the spell, but I’m not sure,” Rarity said, glancing up at where the last airship had been.  Silently she hoped he was safe.  She glanced over at the castle walls, where there was still a flurry of activity, even the occasional beam of hostile magic fired off at the two surviving airships.  “Something was malfunctioning with—”

There was a pop of magic, and everypony jerked back before they recognized Heartwing.

“Rarity!” his voice was panicked.  “Didn’t you hear my message?”

“No, I couldn’t.  You were breaking up, I didn’t—”

“There’s something happening on the train tracks, further down the mountain!” he said urgently.  “I need you at the wall!  Princess, I…”

He turned to look, and his eyes went wide.  Rarity watched him visibly swallow, taking in the Empress from top to bottom.

“I see,” he said simply.

“I AM NO LONGER PRINCESS FLURRY, HEARTWING.  YOU SHALL REFER TO ME AS THE PARHELION EMPRESS.  WHAT DID YOU SEE ON THE TRAIN TRACKS?  I HAD THOUGHT WE DESTROYED THEM AFTER OUR PASSING.”

“We did, Empress.”  Heartwing, if nothing else, was adaptable.  He glanced at Rarity, a thousand questions in his eyes, but continued.  “Our long range scouts report movement on the tracks past the spot we destroyed.  They carried some equipment there.  We didn’t see what.  Either way, they’re moving something up the rails towards us.”

“WE HAVE BEATEN BACK THEIR ATTACK.  WHATEVER THREAT THIS IS, I SHALL DEAL WITH IT.”

The Empress spread her wings and lunged into the air.  Bubblegum let out a cry of dismay.

“Pri…Empress, no, please wait!” Heartwing shouted.  “We don’t know anything about the threat?” he tried.

“WHATEVER THE THREAT, IT SHALL BE NAUGHT IN A MOMENT, HEARTWING,” the Empress boomed, but she hesitated in the air.

“Please, at least let your guard come with you.  And myself.  And Rarity.”

The Empress seemed to consider.

“NO.  YOU SHALL REMAIN BEHIND.  YOUR LEG MAKES YOU A HINDRANCE.”

Her bluntness made Rarity flinch.

“I SHALL TAKE BUBBLEGUM AND RARITY, THOUGH.  GATHER CLOSE, YOU TWO.”

“Wait, Empress, you can’t simply—”

“I DO NOT TAKE ORDERS FROM YOU, HEARTWING,” the Empress said, and reached out with a wing-tip, jerking Rarity forward towards her.  Bubblegum closed in alongside, her blank expression not quite hiding her obvious nerves.

“Keep her safe!” was all Heartwing could manage before the Empress’ magic enveloped them all.  With a pop and a whiff of ozone, they were gone.

Rarity took a moment to breathe before she opened her eyes.  It was much more disconcerting to teleport when one was not casting the magic herself.  At least, wherever they were, the air was fresher.

She hadn’t noticed how intense the smell of burning flesh had grown down in the courtyard.

Rarity opened her eyes.  As she’d suspected, they were on the battlements.  She had a perfect view of the smoking artillery craters down below, as well as the chaos and mayhem the short battle had caused.  There were fallen ponies everywhere.

Looking out towards the city, she could still make out the retreating two airships.  They had paused and were now hovering over one of the more intact buildings in the empty city that surrounded them.

The battlements were still full of soldiers.  There were fewer wounded; the ones up here had been spared the bloodbath of the courtyard down below.  Each one, though, stared at the Empress, faces filled with apprehension.  A few, however, cheered her arrival, and the Empress nodded magnanimously.

“I AM HERE, MY LITTLE PONIES,” she said.  “YOUR EMPRESS IS HERE TO WIN THE WAR, AND TO KEEP YOU SAFE.”

Though most of the soldiers looked confused, the cheer this time was stronger.  Rarity suppressed a shudder, though she understood.  Victory at any cost was a darker outcome than she wanted.

“That’s the train station,” Bubblegum said, and both the Empress and Rarity looked.  She was pointing at the building the airships had paused above.

“WHY WAS IT NOT OCCUPIED OR GUARDED?”

“We pulled all of our forces into the palace, because it was more defensible,” Rarity said.  “There was no reason to occupy the train station.”

“AND NOW OUR ENEMIES PLOT TO USE IT AGAINST US.  LIKELY AS A STAGING GROUND.  THEY HAVE EITHER REPAIRED THE TRACKS OR ARE PLOTTING SOMETHING ELSE.  DO NOT BE CONCERNED.  I SHALL RESOLVE THE ISSUE.”

Her horn blazed to life, and Rarity gasped.

“PLEASE, RARITY.  YOU NEED TO ACCEPT THAT MY METHODS HAVE CHANGED.  I WILL RESTRAIN MYSELF NO LONGER.  I WILL BE A SURGEON AND CUT OUT THIS TUMOR UNTIL NOT A SINGLE DISEASED CELL REMAINS.”

There was a cold echo in her voice.  It reminded Rarity not just of Nightmare Moon, but of Sombra.  It made her wonder what sort of path that dark king had taken.

Had it been good intentions that led his hoofsteps, even at the start?

“Empress, we don’t even know—”

“THERE.”  The Empress pointed with a hoof, and Rarity suppressed a scowl.  She was getting tired of being interrupted.  “THERE IS MOVEMENT.”

She was right.  Ponies were moving up the streets, weaving between buildings.  It was only a few Knights, but it still made Rarity nervous.  What had they planned?

“They’re taking cover from the walls, trying to get closer,” Bubblegum said.  “I don’t like it.”

“WHAT THEY DO IS IRRELEVANT.  I WILL DESTROY THEM.”

The Empress spread her wings, and both Bubblegum and Rarity reached out at the same time.

“No, Pr-Empress!”

“Flurry, please!”

She paused.

Rarity shook her head.  “Please do not go off on your own.  We are your friends.  We do not wish to see you hurt.”

“HURT?  I AM AN ALICORN, RARITY.  THEY CANNOT HURT ME.”

“They can, though.  Remember what they tried to do to you, and to your mother.”

She realized it was the wrong thing to say the second it left her lips.  The reminder had the Empress growling in fury, and she launched herself off the wall to land in front of the gate.  Her expression had been the expression of a creature beyond reason, lost to rage and vengeance.

“No!” Rarity cried again in dismay.

“Take us down there!” Bubblegum begged.  Rarity nodded, throwing a hoof around the other mare as she summoned enough magic for another teleport.  An instant later they were standing in front of the closed gate.  Rarity turned, shouting up at the gate.

“Send help, please!  Assemble some reinforcements, and be ready for Sir Heartwing’s orders!”

She felt helpless, as if she had completely lost control of the situation.  Perhaps because she had.  The soldiers up on the wall saluted at her orders, and Rarity turned to look at the Empress.

She was already marching off into the ruins, her gait slow but steady with determination.

“We can’t leave her alone,” Rarity said, lighting her horn.  Several hours of battle and spellcasting had taken their toll; she was exhausted.  Even a simple communication spell was taxing.  “Heartwing, darling.  Flurry is completely out of control. I don’t know what to do.  If you can hear me, I’ve ordered the soldiers on the wall to assemble and prepare to muster out after us, but I simply cannot leave her side.  Bubblegum and I are on our own, with Flurry.  Please.”

She didn’t know what else could be said. She didn’t even know if he could hear her.  Or if he could respond. Everything that was happening felt inevitable, as if she were being led in a gallop towards disaster.  Each hoofstep made her hooves feel like lead.  Her head hurt.

“Keep your chin up, Rarity,” Bubblegum said with a smile, even though she looked as tired as Rarity felt.  “This will all turn out right in the end, I promise.  You and Emberglow are just too perfect together; why would the universe set you up, if only to trip and fall now?  You’re just fine.”

As far as pep talks went, it was a little weak.  But Rarity gave Bubblegum a smile anyways.

The two mares pulled to a halt.  Ahead of them, the Empress had stopped. They were at a crossroads, an intersection between two streets.  Ruined buildings at all four corners were intact enough to provide plenty of cover.  The falling snow had covered the thousands of tracks from yesterday, leaving a lumpy, uneven blanket over the cobbled roads.  The silence out here, away from the battlefield inside the castle, was oppressive.  Rarity felt as if she’d gone deaf.

“DIARCHY WORMS, I CAN SMELL YOUR FEAR-SWEAT AND HEAR THE POUNDING OF YOUR TERRIFIED HEARTS.  PRESENT YOURSELVES SO YOU CAN DIE WITH SOME DIGNITY.”

Rarity had no idea what the Empress was talking about.  She couldn’t see or hear anything.

The enchanted earring in her ear crackled with magic.  Heartwing.

“…ity!...ot news!...rd sco…gons are coming! The d…”

Rarity’s exhausted brain tried to parse the broken words, even as her eyes darted about the intersection, watching for signs of the approaching Mystics.  Did Heartwing say…

“I think… I think Heartwing said that the dragons are coming,” she whispered, and Bubblegum’s eyes went wide.

“Dragons?  That’s the last thing we need!”

“No, I think—”

There was a flash of movement, and Rarity dragged enough magic out from the morass of her exhaustion to throw a quick shield around the three of them.  Bubblegum leveled her spear, and the Empress’ horn lit.

But it was a white flag, waving from behind the remains of a house wall.

“Empire forces!  We seek temporary truce!”  It was a mare’s voice.  She sounded young.

Rarity glanced at the castle behind them.  The gate was opening.  They had reinforcements on the way.

Her hopelessness started to recede.

“I DO NOT BARGAIN WITH ASSASSINS, LIARS, AND THIEVES.”  Rarity could feel the ground tremble at the cold fury in the Empress’ words.  “IF YOU SEEK TO SURRENDER, THEN COME OUT WITHOUT YOUR WEAPONS AND WE SHALL DISCUSS THINGS.”

“V-very well.”  The mare sounded absolutely terrified.  “We are unarmed.  Please do not attack us; our intentions are entirely peaceful.”

Three ponies came out from behind the wall.  The mare was young, perhaps the same age as Emberglow.  She wore glasses, and made each step with a sort of terrified worry that was evident in her motions.  In one hoof she carried a white flag on a short pole.

The first pony behind her wore a helmet and a scarf, but there was something off about his eyes.  They were sunken and unhealthy.  He looked thin, even behind his armor, and had to be helped as he walked.  Perhaps he was old. 

The third pony was helping the second; she was a mare as well, a pegasus, middle aged, with several feathers missing and singed.  So she’d probably been on one of the airships that had escaped.  Perhaps she’d even directly fled the Empress’ fury.

None of the ponies were armed, but Rarity didn’t think that meant much.  Mystics were wily; it was likely they had some sort of tricks up their sleeves.  Besides, each one was still armored.  They all had their rune gauntlets.

Her stomach still hurt from the last time she’d dealt with Mystic magical trickery.

The three proceeded slowly across the intersection, until they were right in the center, perhaps only a few lengths from Rarity and the others.

“THAT IS FAR ENOUGH.  IS IT JUST THE THREE OF YOU WHO ARE SURRENDERING?”

“Y-yes,” the young Mystic stammered.  “Just us.  My name is J-Joyful Noise.  I’m an artificer, not an inquisitor.  I joined the Mystics because I wanted to learn, and to build things.  I didn’t join for all this death.  I’m tired of it.  Please.  Let me…”

She took a step forward, and the Empress’ horn blazed.

“IF YOU ARE EARNEST, THEN AT THE VERY LEAST YOU CAN REMOVE THE STOLEN SYMBOLS YOU WEAR.  TWILIGHT SPARKLE WOULD NEVER HAVE AUTHORIZED THE HORRORS YOUR KIND UNLEASHED.”

“Y-you want us to… to take off our armor?” the mare asked.

“IF YOU WISH ME TO ACCEPT YOUR SURRENDER, YES.”

“Prin-Empress,” Rarity began.  There was something pathetic about the mare, about the fear in her eyes, that drug out the glimmer of sympathy in Rarity’s heart.  She didn’t want to pity these ponies.  But seeing how scared Joyful Noise was brought out the pity anyways.  “You’re not going to force them to strip in the middle of this winter, are you?”

“I AM.  I DO NOT TRUST THESE WEASELS FOR A MOMENT.”

“But one of them is…” Rarity eyed the bundled one, who was shivering.

“I DO NOT CARE, RARITY.  THOSE ARE MY TERMS.”

“O-okay,” Joyful Noise said, and slowly began to remove her armor, leaving the gambeson underneath.

The other two did as well, piling the plates behind them.  Rarity watched as the Knights reluctantly stripped.

“What’s their angle?” Bubblegum hissed.  “I don’t get it.  She’s surrendering because she wants to give up?  It makes no sense!  And who are the others?”

“YOUR COMPANIONS HAVE NOT GIVEN THEIR NAMES.”

“I am Lady Spark Shot,” the pegasus mare said.  “I… I saw what you did.  In the palace.”  She shuddered.  “We don’t stand a chance.  Please, Princess.  Be merciful.”

“I WILL SHOW MERCY TO THE HUMBLE.  AND YOUR LAST?”

The voice that emerged from behind the scarf was reedy and weak, harsh with pain.

“I… I am called Death, abomination.”

It was a signal of some sort.  All three Mystics, partially out of their armor, burst into frenzied motion.  The sickly one whipped off his scarf, flinging it through the air towards them.

Underneath, Rarity recognized the pony.  It was Brightblade.

She didn’t even have enough time to say anything.

The scarf glowed with silvery light, and Rarity caught a glimpse of something heavy and metallic hidden on the inside.  She didn’t have time to see what it was before it exploded.

It wasn’t a grenade, but a pulse of familiar greenish-silvery light.  Rarity didn’t even have time to turn off her magic before she felt the too-familiar stomach cramps, pain shooting from her horn to her gut.

Rarity’s shield fell, and all three Mystics were in motion.

It was like slow motion.  She wasn’t fast enough.

Joyful Noise pulled something out of the bottom of the flag.  A blade, a stiletto, thin and glinting, slid out of the base.

Spark Shot leapt forward, letting Brightblade fall limply into the snow.  Her wings spread wide, she howled.  “Die, die, die, die!”  She was aimed right at Bubblegum.

The Empress took a step back, shock and rage writ on her features.  Her horn lit up, and Rarity watched her expression twist with the pain of the wretched spell.

In desperation, Rarity tried the same again, and nearly crumpled.

Spark Shot was unarmed, flinging her whole body at Bubblegum.  Bubblegum set her spear, even as Spark’s gauntlet trailed silvery light.

There was a wet sound as Bubblegum’s spear pierced Spark’s chest, followed by an even worse noise as Spark’s momentum carried her forward, along the haft.  A spray of blood announced the spear’s exit from Spark’s back, through one of her wings.  It twitched, spasming in agony.

But Spark was undeterred.  With a grin made all the more sinister by the blood that spurted from her mouth, she finished her spell.

Rarity knew in that moment she would be too late to help.  She lunged forward anyways, passing the Empress, who was struggling to summon her fire again.

Snow and slush from the ground floated up, coalescing into a jagged crystalline blade around her hoof.  Bubblegum tried to jerk her spear out, to defend herself.  But it was too slow.  Spark slammed the summoned blade down on Bubblegum.

Rarity was unable to hold back her cry of dismay as the blade sliced through Bubblegum’s cheek, slipped past the edge of Bubblegum’s criniere, and plunged into Bubblegum’s neck.

Bubblegum’s eyes shot wide, and she choked, blood dripping down her own chin like a macabre mirror of her opponent.  Spark spat once, her smile triumphant, before her eyes glassed over and she fell into the red-splattered snow.  Bubblegum soon followed.

“No!” Tears filled Rarity’s eyes.  It had all taken seconds.  Less than a second.  Frantically she pulled Bubblegum off the fallen Mystic.

She was alive.  Her eyes were clenched, but she opened them wide to Rarity.

“I… I didn’t…” she choked, blood spraying out of her mouth.  And then her eyes went glassy as well.

Dead.

“YOU SHALL BURN FOR AN ETERNITY!” The Empress howled.  “FOR THIS TREACHERY I WILL DESTROY EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU MYSTICS!”

She didn’t cast her spells.  Her horn was sparking, and with every flash of baleful orange light the Empress’s face twisted with pain.  So instead she charged, lowering her wickedly pointed horn as she rushed for Joyful Noise.  Her hooves churned snow as she ran forward.

At the last moment, Brightblade threw himself off the ground, slamming into Joyful Noise and tossing her aside.  Flurry’s horn impaled him through the chest, his blood soaking his gambeson.

His blood.

It was orange.

“What…” Rarity said.  Her mind was just too full to comprehend what was happening.  As the blood oozed out of the wound, the Empress screamed in agony.  The unnatural blood seemed to shimmer and writhe where it touched the Empress’ horn.  It started to disappear, as if the horn were absorbing it.

“WHAT… WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!”  Flurry’s voice was shaking with pain.  “WHAT IS HAPPENING!?”

“We did it, abomination bitch,” Brightblade coughed, and spat in the Empress’ face.  The orange glob of bloody spittle landed just above her eye, and she howled anew in pain, stumbling back.  Brightblade fell to the ground.  “I have done my duty.  I…I have fulfilled my destiny.”

“You were brave to the end,” Joyful Noise said, her voice proud.  She moved up to him even as the Empress stepped backwards, screaming in pain.  She took her stiletto, running it along his wound to gather up the blood.

Suddenly Rarity recognized the orange ooze.  It looked alarmingly like the poison that had lined Turquoise’s blade, when Turquoise had stabbed Emberglow.

A poison made to destroy a goddess.

Rarity was moving before she realized it.  With numb hooves she jerked Bubblegum’s spear out of the fallen Knight.  Her hindhooves burned with exhaustion.  Her stomach blazed with agony.  Her head hurt.  Her vision was swimming.  But she could see the Knight.  She could see Joyful Noise clearly enough to charge.

Rarity’s hooves slid in the snow as she ran.  She nearly fell, and the spear wavered and danced in the air.

Joyful Noise was only a few feet from Flurry. Her stiletto dripped.

Rarity ran, pushing herself harder than she had ever pushed herself before.

Joyful’s hoof reared back for a strike.

Rarity reached Flurry, pushing past her.

Joyful’s blade flashed, slicing towards the distracted princess.

Rarity was no warrior.  But at the end of the day, it was like threading a needle.  Or lacing a boot.  A sharp, pointy thing piercing a target. 

But Joyful was a Knight.

Rarity’s spear was true on target, but Joyful was fast enough to knock it aside with one hoof.  The blade of the spear, still dripping Spark’s blood, slid outside of a lethal strike, instead gouging along Joyful’s cheek.  The blow knocked her glasses off, and Joyful screamed.

But Rarity was off balance, and she was no match for Joyful’s strength.  Her hoof struck Rarity’s jaw, enough for her to see stars.

She collapsed into the snow, struggling.  This was it.  This was her limit.

Maybe if…

Joyful stepped past her.

“Stay down, Rarity.  Steadfast needs you alive.  Don’t m-make me h-hurt you more.”

Strangely enough there was still fear in her voice.

“This will only take a moment.”

The Parhelion Empress struggled on the ground, one hoof clutching her sputtering horn.  Vile orange blood was still being absorbed, even as she tried to wipe it off.

Joyful lunged.  Rarity lunged after her.

The stiletto fell.

The Empress screamed, lashing out with a hoof, and Joyful went flying, to collapse into the snow in a lump.  Rarity rushed over.

The stiletto was embedded in Flurry Heart’s back.

“R-rarity…” she whimpered.  Flurry’s eyes were shifting, from the slitted eyes of the Empress back to her usual gentle cyan.  “Rarity please.  Rarity it hurts so much. Help me, please.”

Rarity didn’t know what to do.  Tears splashed down her cheeks, and she summoned her magic again.

The pain nearly sent her to her knees next to the princess.

“Don’t w-worry, darling.  Help is coming.  You’ll be just fine.”

“Rarity, I’m sorry.  It hurts.  Please.  I… I can’t… I can’t…”

Flurry’s eyes glowed with bright white light, and magic poured from her horn, from the tips of her wings, and from her hooves in an explosion of brightness.  Flurry’s whole body shook and spasmed.  Once.  Twice.

And then she was still in the snow.

The light left her eyes, and in their wake?

Death.  Just as Brightblade had said.

Princess Flurry Heart, the Parhelion Empress, was no more.

And then something struck the back of Rarity’s head.  There was pain, and then blackness.
> Chapter 65
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 65


Dragonfire Scroll, sent from Lady Ambrosia to Grand Master Fairy Light

Fay-

Negotiated with Sir Heartwing and Princess Flurry Heart.  We’re allowed inside the walls, though they very much don’t trust us.  I don’t mind.  It’s a start, at least.

The First Mother is here, as the Oracle said.  It’s all I can do to not lose my composure every time I see her.  I read the same documents you have, and heard the Oracle’s words, but still, seeing the horn is an absolute shock.  One that I hope will fade in time.

It’s hard to speak with her.  She’s constantly attended by either Emberglow herself, or unicorn expatriates from the Crystal Empire.  I won’t push.  I’m sure there will be opportunities soon.

Speaking of Emberglow, I just finished a conversation with her.  It did not go well.  She’s understandably angry, and I may have pushed her away, for now.  I’ll keep trying.  I can only hope that when she sees the earnestness of our efforts, and the truth of our cause, that she’ll return to our side.  I have heard that she, too, has sworn an oath similar to our Oath of Peace; an oath to do no harm.  I find it admirable, and I truly hope she will speak with me about it in the future.

I have to go now!  There is activity outside.  It sounds like a Mystic attack.  Please respond with any intel you have heard.

Saints bless you and keep you, Fay. 

A responding scroll sent from Grand Master Fairy Light

(Dictated to Green Fields)

Amy-

I’m dictating this note because I have been confined to a bed.

Diamond Home is still under siege by the Vigilant, and I must admit a careless foray to retrieve some wounded scouts, Ladies Frost and Antiphon of the Angelic.  We were able to get them safely inside, but my shield was dropped by a Mystic counterspell and I took a bullet to the hind leg before I could get it back up.  Nothing dire, but Lady Magenta has demanded I remain in bed, even though I continue to lead our defenses from here.

It’s nothing more than I deserve.

I have no intel on this Old Canterlot attack, though I’ll update you if I do.  I don’t know if I can send out scouts right now; Diamond Home is surrounded.

When we started our crusade to find the destiny the Saints intended for us, all those decades ago, did you ever imagine we’d be here, right now?

Please stay safe. 

Old Canterlot Palace, 1113 AF

The warmth of Rarity’s kiss still tingled on Emberglow’s lips as she galloped from the command tent. 

It was a distracting sensation, but she held onto it as she darted into the chaos.  The memory of the kiss was like an anchor, a rock of sanity amidst the furor outside.

Soldiers, well-trained and disciplined, were seeking out their squads, looking for their officers, or generally getting ready to receive orders.

The few civilians in the camp, mostly camp followers and supply ponies, looked lost.

Emberglow raised her gauntlet and quickly cast a voice amplification spell.

“Everybody!  If you are a non-combatant, you are ordered to report to the Shrine of the Generous.  Please do not take anything with you for now.  Your priority is to get to safety!”

“I’ll find the quartermaster,” Topaz said from right beside her.  “You see to your parents.”

Emberglow wasn’t about to argue with that.  She spread her wings, out of the way of the galloping earth ponies and other people, moving through the slightly clearer air towards the tent she shared with Rarity.

Of course your first thought would be a selfish one.  Who cares if the others fall or get lost, as long as your family is safe.

The intrusive thoughts had been getting worse again.  Longingly she glanced back towards where Topaz had disappeared, galloping towards Colibri’s tent.  A long chat with her would be welcome.  Emberglow had so much she wanted to unpack.

Soon.

She touched down outside the tent and hesitated.  After the last conversation she’d had with her parents, she wasn’t sure how she’d be received.

But that didn’t matter right now.  Emberglow shook her head and tried to brush past the inevitable deprecating thoughts that inserted themselves into her brain.

Maybe they’d rather be dead than have a ‘corrupted’ daughter.

She ignored the voices of the dead and pulled the tent flap open.

“Mom!  Dad!”

The two of them were sitting on the bedroll.  Textile was holding Needle Point comfortingly.  They’d both been crying.

“C’mon, hurry!” Emberglow shouted, and they both glanced up.  “We’re getting to safety.  There’s going to be an attack.”

There was terror in their eyes.  Of course there was; the earth was trembling, they were in a city they’d never seen before, and there was an imminent attack.  

They’re terrified of you.

To her parents’ credit, neither one hesitated long.  Her father stood, pulling her mother to her hooves. 

“Where do we go?” Textile asked, his voice hoarse.  There was no indication of their previous conversation.  Emberglow certainly didn’t want to bring it up.

“The Shrine of the Generous.  It’s where I lived when I was here last.  Headquarters of the Radiant at Old Canterlot.  They’re there now.”  She held the tent flap open, ushering them out with one wing.

“Emberglow,” her mother began, hesitating at the tent flap.

There was an apology of some kind coming, Emberglow could see it in the worry in her mother’s eyes.  But Emberglow shook her head, guiding Needle Point with an insistent wing-tip.

“Hurry, hurry!” she called, glancing at her father, who was bringing up the rear.  “We’re evacuating every non-combatant we can.”

Textile nodded, and Emberglow pulled up the rear behind them.  Together, they ran along the paths towards Emberglow’s once-home.  They were not alone; the route was crowded with support personnel moving towards the small shrine.  Emberglow wondered if there would be enough room.

Up ahead, though, she could already see a cadre of armored Knights Angelic forming a cordon around both the Shrine and the tent with spears and shields at the ready.  Shimmering white hexagons already floated in the air above it, a magical barrier ready to repel artillery fire.

“We’ll be safe here,” Emberglow said.

You’re not safe anywhere.

For a time, it had seemed the voices had been getting better.  Rarity’s presence seemed to drive them away.  But now, in the chaos of impending battle, the ghosts of her guilt were relentless.  They caressed her mind like a cold talon, each word a prick of pain.

They were getting harder and harder to ignore.

Her parents didn’t appear to notice her inner turmoil, though, and Emberglow was glad for that.  She approached the guards in front of the shrine, and they parted to let her pass.  Not, however, before she saw the light of recognition in both of their eyes, and a nod of deference.

It reminded her of the conversation she’d had with Ambrosia, and anger twisted in her gut.

“There is space inside for everypony,” one of the guards, a pegasus stallion with a wrinkled muzzle said, his voice reedy with age.  “Everypony who keeps the peace is welcome.  And you will be safe, we swear.”

“Go,” Emberglow told her parents.  “I’m going to see what I need to do to help.”  She glanced at the Angelic.  “If I am allowed, being an enemy.”

“None of the Mothers are our enemies,” the guard intoned reverently, and Emberglow shuddered.  “Especially not you.”

“I’m not who you think I am!” she snapped, and her parents recoiled. 

The guard remained stoic, though.  “Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  The healers among the Discordant are already moving your wounded inside the Shrine.  The smaller the space we have to defend, the better.”

“Right,” Emberglow said.

Her parents, however, had not moved.  They both still stood on the path, staring at her with fear painted on their muzzles.

“Go,” Emberglow repeated.  “You’ll be safe there, I promise.  These ponies will ensure that.”

The Angelic guards both nodded.

“We…” Textile began, his expression anguished.  “We’re afraid for you, Emberglow.”

It was a simple phrase, but there were so many lines to read between.  Needle Point nodded her agreement.

“I know,” Emberglow said.  “I know.”  She wanted to say more.  But it felt like too much effort to even think of the words, to shape them and force them out of her head and into the air.  She was so exhausted.

“Come inside, please,” the older Knight finally urged.  “We shall also be watching out for your daughter, and will keep her safe.”

It seemed to reassure her parents, who nodded and joined the rest of the ponies moving into the Shrine.  At the door, a Radiant, the younger one Emberglow recognized from earlier, was giving the ponies instructions as they moved through the doors.  Ponies were being told to leave everything except food and medical supplies outside.  Emberglow nodded her approval, then moved towards the Discordant hospital tent.  Her parents headed upstairs.

Just then, Emberglow glanced up to see a massive magical shield flash into place along the wall that faced the mountain above them.  It was just in time; snow and rock started to batter against the shield almost instantly.  She could see, just along the battlements, a single white figure with a blue glowing horn, standing proudly as she gave orders to those around her.

Emberglow’s heart swelled with pride and love, before rushing into the medic tent.

Inside, everypony whirled about in a rush.  Emberglow could see that all of the Diarchy prisoners had already been removed, leaving only the Discordant and Empire wounded.  She was certainly relieved not to be dealing with that issue, though the limited space inside the Shrine would likely mean the two enemies would be once again forced into close contact with each other.

Life Flight, the head medic, was in the air, directing her healers like a general ordering an army.

“Our priority is to get as many moving as possible!” she was already shouting when Emberglow entered.  “If you have spare batteries, share them with ponies whose gauntlets are dry!  Cross, Deep, I need you two healing as many broken legs and bones as you can.  I don’t care how many motes you use, I need those ponies mobile!  Tourniquet, Gentle, I want you on hoof for the Code Red cases.  Stay with each one as they move until a Radiant in the Shrine takes over.  No deaths while we’re moving, ponies!”

She kept shouting even as Emberglow hovered over alongside her.

“I’m here to help,” she said to the medic.  “Where should I go?”

“With Tight Tourniquet,” Life Flight pointed towards a middle-aged pegasus stallion in Discordant yellow armor, who was carefully trotting alongside a stretcher being carried by two earth ponies.  “I need my Code Reds moved inside as safely as possible.  You’re on hand if things suddenly get worse.  Once you’re inside, you can watch over them while Tourniquet and Gentle Needle move the rest.  Help keep the peace if you have to.”

Emberglow had to actively make an effort not to flinch.  This was coming just after her relief that she wouldn’t have to worry about the violent part of things.  But her training had ingrained in her mind a readiness to accept orders, so she nodded and saluted.

“Saints, Lady Emberglow, I’m not a Knight any longer, you don’t have to do that,” Life Flight muttered, before turning back to her organizing.  Emberglow flew towards the Knight she’d pointed out.

He glanced up questioningly.

“I’ve been assigned to help you,” she said, and he nodded simply.

“Monitoring spells on each of the patients as we move them.  Inform me if anything changes for the worse,” he said shortly, and Emberglow nodded, quickly casting the spell.

The magic of the spell flooded her brain with information.  Blood pressure, oxygen level, pulse. Body temperature.  All were low, but currently stable.  The wounded unicorn in the stretcher had lost a great deal of blood, probably from a number of chest and torso wounds, which were now covered by bandages. 

“Currently stable, sir,” she said automatically, and Tourniquet nodded.

“Follow them inside, and keep an eye on our ponies once you’re there.  I don’t want anything to happen to our unicorns, especially.”

The mistrust in his voice came off as harsh to Emberglow’s ears, but she nodded and hovered over the wounded pony as the stretcher bearers carried him outside the tent.

Just as they got outside, a large explosion rattled the ground.  Emberglow glanced towards the central courtyard; Discordant mortars were firing at the approaching airships.  Emberglow shuddered, and continued on her way.  She glanced at the Shrine as they approached, wondering how they were going to find enough room inside the small building for all the wounded, from both sides of the conflict.

Her question was answered as soon as their small procession moved inside.  She remembered the common living area, and the secret passage hidden in the floor that led to the oracle beneath.  Now the passage was open, and ponies moved freely into the large space in the basement.  In the living room, trundle beds and cots lined every available space, and Radiants roved among the patients, treating them as they came in.

“Condition?” barked a familiar voice from inside.  Emberglow saw Ambrosia, who, like Life Flight in the tent, seemed to be in charge here.

“Critical.  Major blood loss, vitals are low,” Emberglow said.

“Critical cases are in the living room and basement, segregated by faction.  Discordant downstairs,” she said.  “Don’t be alarmed if you see the Oracle.  She’s harmless.”

“The…?” Emberglow was about to ask, but shoved it deep.  Whatever had changed, hopefully it truly was harmless as Ambrosia had said.  She didn’t have time to wonder.  “Yes, m…”

She stopped herself from saying ma’am.  Ambrosia wasn’t her commanding officer.  But Ambrosia noticed the near slip, and gave her a little nod.  Respect?  Recognition?  Politeness?  Emberglow wasn’t sure.

Instead, she hovered ahead while the earth pony medics carried the wounded Knight down the stairs.

What if you’re by yourself?  What if the Radiants are neglecting the Discordant?

But the voice was wrong, and there were already four Radiants hard at work on the critical patients.  The room was full of beds and instrument trays, IV stands and medical equipment.  Emberglow didn’t have time to see if she recognized any of the working Radiants.

Her spell continued to feed her information, and as soon as they got to the basement room the patient’s blood pressure dropped precipitously.  She barely had time to look around the room before she had to start casting again.

“Blood pressure dropping,” she said out loud, and began casting a second spell.  Something had ruptured, and the patient was bleeding internally.  It was bad, and while she could cast the necessary spells, she hadn’t often needed to deal with this issue.  Her confidence wavered.  “Internal bleeding.  Does anypony…”

“I can help.”  The voice was a tremendous shock, and Emberglow met the Radiant’s eyes.  Astrolabe stared back, her expression flat.  “I’ve got lots of experience with internal surgery spells.  I’ll take over, Emberglow.  Can you cast the blood restoration spells as I repair the damage?  You can leave your shield by the door, it’ll just get in the way.”

“Y-yes,” Emberglow stammered, shaking her head quickly to get past the odd sensation of seeing an old rival under new circumstances.  Briefly she remembered the cold peace that the two of them had arrived at, here in this very building.  But she didn’t have time to think about it.  Snapping herself out of her daze, she quickly doffed her shield, resting it by the door, and raised her gauntlet to cast.

Time slowed, as it often did when Emberglow was working.  She quickly got into the flow of assisting another doctor, silently taking Astrolabe’s orders as they worked to save this unicorn’s life.  She barely even noticed when the two earth ponies left to go get another critically injured patient.

“He’s stable again,” Astrolabe said finally.  “Come.  The next patient has an infection in her leg that’s not healing correctly.  We’re going to see what spells can do.”

Are you such a pushover that you can so easily take orders?  Some brave rebel you are.

Emberglow ignored the voice and followed after Astrolabe.  On the way, she noticed the stone plinth that had been here the first time she’d arrived.  It was missing the glass orb, as well as the horn encased inside.  The horn of Starlight Glimmer. 

She wondered what had happened to it.  Starlight had wanted them to bring closure to the creature trapped inside.  And what had Ambrosia meant about watching out for the Oracle?

Again, though, these were thoughts for another time.  Emberglow let her idle thoughts and curiosities flow away as she and Astrolabe began work on the next patient.  In between spells, though, she looked around the room again.  At least on the surface, Tourniquet’s fears had proved unfounded.  From what she could tell, the Radiants were offering the best of care to these ponies.  And all three of the critically wounded unicorns in the basement still had their horns intact.

“Does it bother you?” Emberglow asked suddenly. Astrolabe looked at her questioningly.  “To be treating Discordant?  And unicorns?”

Astrolabe sucked in a breath through her teeth.  “Yes.  It does.” Emberglow waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t.  Instead, Astrolabe got to work on the patient, her expression a mask of perfect professionalism.  “The infection is threatening to become septic.  I’ll cast the antibiotic spells, you can grab the IV equipment, it’s upstairs in the kitchen.”

“Here,” somepony behind her said, and Emberglow turned.

It was not a pony, but… something else.  The outline of a pony, glowing with sparkling starlight and velvety abyssal blackness.  Emberglow recoiled.

“It’s just the Oracle, calm down,” Astrolabe said, her voice a little impatient.  “Sometimes she helps.  Don’t count on it, just take it when it happens.”

The Oracle was carrying all the supplies Emberglow would need to set up an intravenous fluid drip.  Tentatively, Emberglow reached out, and the Oracle passed everything over to her.

“Thank you,” Emberglow said, more calmly than she felt.  Her heart thudded in her chest.  “I met…”

“… the other half of me,” the Oracle finished, her voice echoing and ethereal.  “I know.”

“She wanted you to find rest,” Emberglow said, as she placed the supplies on one of the medical trays near the patient’s bed.  Astrolabe ignored them, casting away as Emberglow worked.  “To sleep.  To die.”

“I know,” the Oracle said.  “I don’t want that.  I’m not her.  I’m something else, now.”

“It was the last thing she’d asked of us,” Emberglow said.  The conversation was surreal; as her hooves went through the motions of preparing the IV site and searching for a vein, her mind spun.  “Before she died.”

“She found rest,” the Oracle said, vaguely.  “She’ll be reborn.  I am no pony.  I do not wish to go anywhere.  If I depart, I shall not be reborn.”

The Oracle’s tone was simple and calm, but a chill ran down Emberglow’s spine nonetheless.

“Discuss it later,” Astrolabe insisted.  “We’re busy.”

“I sometimes find inane conversation helps me focus,” Emberglow said.  It wasn’t exactly true; it was something Doctor Plasma back in Angel’s Rest had told her.  But she felt an immature urge to be contrary to her old antagonist.

“Very well,” Astrolabe sighed.  “Would you please cast a blood-toxicity spell, and monitor how effective my treatment is? While we gossip, of course.  If you have time.”

There was something perversely comforting about hearing the bite in Astrolabe’s voice.  Nostalgic, even.

“Right away,” Emberglow said.  She cast the relevant spell.  The pony’s fever was still too high, but dropping ever so imperceptibly.  “It’s working.”  But now that she’d challenged Astrolabe, she had to fill the silence.  “How have you been?”

Astrolabe snorted and eyed Emberglow, even as she continued to cast antibiotic spells.  “Your heretic friends really have made you a master of small talk, haven’t they?”  She laughed.  “I’m getting married.”

The Oracle was trying to give Emberglow something, but Emberglow was too busy staring in shock.  Finally the Oracle nudged her.  It was an IV bag.  She glanced down; non-magical antibiotics. She strung the bag to the IV tower and plugged it into the patient’s IV feed. “M-married?”  She tried to sound casual about it.

“To Greenie,” Astrolabe said, with a small smile.

A Radiant? Married?  To a mare?

“Things have changed quite a bit since I left,” Emberglow noted, trying to keep her voice casual.

“Truly, not as much as you might think,” Astrolabe said.  She met Emberglow’s eyes, and to Emberglow she simply looked exhausted.

“Tell her,” the Oracle said, staring into Astrolabe’s eyes. “She needs to hear.  She needs to understand.”

“Tell me what?”

“Let’s move on,” Astrolabe said, looking away towards the next patient.  The ground rumbled ominously, and they paused for a moment, worry in both of their expressions.

“They don’t need you out there yet, Emberglow,” the Oracle said.  “They will.  But not yet.”

Once again she felt a chill run down her spine.

“Next patient,” Astrolabe insisted, and they moved to the small pegasus stallion writhing on a stretcher.  His eyes were open, and his teeth were grit with pain.

“Multiple gunshot wounds, strained limbs, mild internal bleeding, significant blood loss,” Astrolabe said after her spell.

“Accurate,” the patient groaned, trying to smirk.  He coughed, blood flecks on his lips.

“Stay still,” Emberglow chided.  His wounds were bandaged hastily; they were more recent than some of the others, no sign of infection.  She recognized him as one of the pegasus scouts from their charge up the mountain.  “Havoc, right?”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he groaned.

“Re-dressing and re-cleaning wounds, also there’s a bullet fragment lodged in the third vertebrosternal rib,” Astrolabe reported.

“That’s… bad?” Havoc groaned.

“We’ll have to do surgery to remove it, with general anesthesia,” Emberglow said, and the patient cringed.  “You’ll be fine.”

It was a rote thing to say to a patient, especially since there was a very real danger with putting a patient that far under.  Some patients just never woke up.

“You’ll handle the anesthesia?” Astrolabe said, and Emberglow nodded, raising her gauntlet.  She was running low on motes, but she had enough for now.  She quickly began casting the spell, watching the eyes of the patient.

“Just rest,” she told him gently.  “Close your eyes, and when you wake up you’ll be in a lot less pain.”

“If I wake up,” Havoc muttered darkly, even as his expression began to glass over and his eyelids slid shut.  Emberglow quickly changed over to the vitals monitoring spell.

“He’s under,” she noted.  “Vitals are steady.  You can begin surgery.”

The Oracle was behind her, already laying out surgical tools on the tray next to the bed.  Astrolabe carefully selected a scalpel.

“Some overeager Yellow healer already cast some wound-knitting spells to stabilize him,” she growled.  “I’m going to have to cut to get to it.  Beginning first incision.”

“So… is she a nurse now?” Emberglow watched the Oracle as the strange, glowing, starlit pony figure moved among the other healers in the basement, assisting each of them in their tasks.

“She helps when she can,” Astrolabe said.  “She’s…one of us.” There was something odd in her voice, a note of protective loyalty and affection.  “Did you ever wonder why all of us Radiants agreed to follow along with Lady Fairy’s plans beforehoof?  Even knowing how insane and dangerous it was to become neutral?  The Oracle came to many of us.  She… distance and space don’t mean much to a creature crafted of dreams and magic.”

“And Starlight Glimmer’s severed horn,” Emberglow noted with a scowl.  “And her stolen memories.”

“I don’t know much about that,” Astrolabe said as she worked.  “I just know that regardless of whoever she was then, she is now our friend and our ally.”  Once again Emberglow heard conviction and loyalty in Astrolabe’s voice.

“Is that what she wanted you to tell me?” Emberglow said.

Astrolabe shook her head as she placed the bloody scalpel on the tray, reaching for a pair of medical pliers.  “No.  She wants you to understand what you did for all of us.”

Emberglow froze.

It’s just like the talk you had with Ambrosia.

But Astrolabe kept talking, even as she reached into the cut-open wound with the pliers.  “The Day of Hope affected each of us differently, Emberglow.  For Fairy Light, Ambrosia, and Wintergreen, the mares that lead the Radiant, they see the big picture.  A chance to chart us in a new direction, to change the world for the better.”

Astrolabe glanced back where the Oracle was currently helping an older Radiant set a broken bone.

“For most of us though, it’s not about the big picture.  Your actions made it possible for many of us to live more authentically, to be ourselves, to serve the Saints and the Diarchs without pretending to be something we’re not.  So Green and I have promised to join each other in marriage.”

She squeezed the pliers, brow furrowed with concentration.  With a grunt, then a cry of victory, she jerked the pliers, dropping a small, bloody hunk of shrapnel onto the tray.  “Light spell, please.  I want to be sure I got all of it.  Could use a second pair of eyes, too.”

Emberglow had just enough left in her battery for a light spell.  She cast it, peering in.   She could see bone and muscle, but no hint of metal left behind.

“We’re clear, I think,” Emberglow said, trying not to let the other news Astrolabe had shared overwhelm her.  Married.  Astrolabe and Green Fields.  Two mares, getting married, in the Diarchy.

“I think so too,” she replied.  “I know the marriage won’t be legally recognized yet.  And even some in the Order who I’ve spoken to give me a look when I say it.  They’re judging me, I know.  But Lady Fairy rescinded the Oath of Chastity. And it makes us happy.  And who knows?  Maybe someday.”  She paused, glancing at Emberglow’s gauntlet.  “Let’s suture the wound and re-bandage; we’ll need new batteries for the next patient.”

Some time in the months since they hadn’t seen each other, Astrolabe had gotten quite nimble with sutures.  Emberglow was actually fairly impressed at how quickly and neatly she stitched up the patient’s wound, applying new bandages.

“You’ve done this a lot.”

“Green and I were stationed at a hospital near the dragon border for a while,” Astrolabe said.  She sighed.  “So.  You know about me and Greenie.  I suppose I owe you.  Because of what you did, the impossible is possible.”

“No,” Emberglow froze, her hooves stilled in the process of tying a bandage.  “No.  This isn’t me.  Don’t put all this on me.”

If you are responsible for the good, then you’re also responsible for the bad, right?  The deaths.  The destruction. The chaos.

“Indeed. You are not responsible for every good thing in the world, Emberglow.”

The Oracle’s voice came right by Emberglow’s ear, and she jumped.  Astrolabe shot her a sympathetic look.

“She does that sometimes.  You get used to it.  Or not.”

“Much has changed in a short time,” the Oracle continued, as if Astrolabe hadn’t spoken.  “You were the spark that ignited the flame, yes.  But there are a hundred others.  Each one providing fuel for upheaval.  Each one stoking the fires.  Even you.  The world will change.”

“You can’t help that some ponies will be grateful to you, for lighting the spark,” Astrolabe said.  “Even ponies that don’t like you.  So just get over it and accept it, because we have work to do.”

For once, Emberglow had to agree with her. The work, while difficult, had a way of occupying her mind and driving the intrusive voices away.  It was heartening, too, to see that her fears had been unfounded prejudice.  All of the Radiants were more than competent, and fully involved in healing her allies.

She was happy that her worst fears about her former sisters had proven untrue.

“She will need to see you, soon,” the Oracle said suddenly, right next to her ear, as Emberglow was busy tying off a new bandage onto an imperial soldier who’d lost her forehoof.  Emberglow jumped again.  She couldn’t help herself.  “She’ll need to see your strength.”

The ground rocked with a tremendous explosion, and Emberglow glanced up in shock.  Nopony else did; the more experienced Radiants stayed focused on their tasks.

Because they are stronger than you.

But it was true, no matter the source.  Even Astrolabe had been working in a combat hospital, while she’d been off adventuring and falling in love.  She tried to refocus on her task, but the Oracle’s words filled her with worry.

She knew exactly which ‘she’ the Oracle had been referring to.

A second explosion rocked the building.  And a third.  Now the healers were starting to glance around, worried.

A squire burst down the stairs, her gray robes unwashed and in disarray.  She had a bandage wrapped around her head, and she nearly stumbled at the last step.

“Th-they need ponies at the shield outside, the one covering the Shrine,” she stammered out.  “Any you can spare.”

“I’ll go,” Emberglow spoke up immediately.  She glanced at Astrolabe.

“We could still use you here,” Astrolabe said.  “But I’ll manage somehow without you.  You’re a good assistant.”

For a moment both mares looked surprised at the complement.  But there was no time to unpack what it meant.  Emberglow snatched up her shield from where she’d left it leaning against the wall, and rushed to the squire.

“Let’s go, then,” she said.

The squire goggled at the yellow stripes on Emberglow’s armor.

“Y-y-y-you’re Discordant,” she stammered.

“Yes, and I’m all we can spare to shore up the shield,” Emberglow said.  “Now go.”  She shoved the squire gently with a wing-tip while strapping on the shield.  It was enough to get the young mare moving back up the stairs, and Emberglow followed.

Something bad is coming.  Something huge.  Today will be the darkest day of your life.

“They’re not wrong.”

Emberglow froze in horror, looking up at the Oracle’s voice.  The strange non-pony was staring at her from across the room, even though her voice had been a whisper in her ear.  How…

“Miss Discordant, if you’re coming, hurry!”  The squire’s voice was petulant and urgent.  Emberglow shook her head and followed her up the stairs.

“Did you hear…”

The squire blinked. “Hear what?”

“Nothing.  Nevermind.”

She didn’t have the time to think about it.  But the sense of impending doom fell over her mind like a blanket of fresh snow; heavy and frigid.  It weighed her down as she rushed out of the Shrine.

Outside, a ring of Knights Angelic and Radiant were all maintaining the large shield around the shrine.  Their gauntlets were all glowing, flashing anew each time a section had to be restored or repaired.  It reminded Emberglow of the ill-fated camp in Manehatten.  

The flow of wounded from the Discordant medic tent had dried up, and it seemed like everypony who could be spared was either on the wall or rushing towards the palace grounds to defend against the impending airship attack.  The three airships loomed; a tangible symbol of her growing dread.

“Sir Dustoff?  I’ve got a Discordant to help!” the squire shouted, rushing over to one of the Angelic.  The brown pegasus stallion had a severe military-style mohawk, and was directing the Knights outside the building with a firm voice.

He didn’t turn to look at them; his attention was focused up above.  “Just one?”

“There weren’t more to spare, sir,” the squire replied.

“I’ll take what I can get.  Desert, shore up your left side.  Peony, brace yourself, the mortars are firing again, I think…”

The Angelic commander finally turned to look at the new Discordant arrival, and his eyes widened with recognition.

“Oh!  You’re…”  He cleared his throat.  “You’re Emberglow.  Thanks for your help.  Can you follow orders from somepony not who’s not a Discordant?”

Emberglow hadn’t wanted to be recognized.  “I can, yes,” she said, challenge in her voice.

“Good.  Stay by my side, you’re backup in case the avalanche breaches the unicorns’ shield, or ours down here.”  He didn’t seem to stumble over the word ‘unicorn’, which caused a little surge of respect for him in Emberglow’s estimation.  “We have…”

Above them, a section of the shield flickered and disappeared.  Dirt and snow showered through the gap, burying screaming ponies.  It was only seconds before more unicorns sealed the breach, but it was enough damage to leave plenty of pain and casualties in its wake.

“Wounded will be incoming,” Emberglow muttered, and Dustoff nodded.  “They’ll need help.”

“Yeah,” Dustoff said.  “Smoky Flare, Desert Blaze, help with search and rescue.”

“I’m going too,” Emberglow said, setting her jaw. 

“No.  I need you here, directing the flow of the wounded.  Field triage,” Dustoff said, fixing her with a stern look. 

He had asked if she could take orders.  Reluctantly she nodded and watched as the Radiant she’d spoken to briefly earlier and an Angelic pegasus with a shield flew out to the pile of snow and debris.  The pile itself was huge and imposing, and Emberglow knew it would be too much of a task for the two Knights.

“Two isn’t going to be enough,” Emberglow muttered to the Angelic, and Dustoff nodded grimly.

“I know that, but I can’t… oh!  Look!”

Soon enough the pile was swarmed by a dozen unicorns, pulling large rocks and piles of snow off the avalanche.  Emberglow could hear Smoky shouting orders and giving directions to some of them, all of whom seemed a little nonplussed at the idea of taking direction from a Diarchy Knight.  They learned quickly, though, when Smoky’s directions led them to the first casualty of the avalanche.

“Rarity’s reserves,” Emberglow explained, while Dustoff watched.  He jerked a little at the name.  “They’ll be enough, I—”

The ground shuddered again, dirt spraying into the air.  Another mortar round had struck the center of the camp.  With a gasp, Emberglow realized what exactly had been struck.

Her tent, the one she shared with Rarity, the one that her parents were in just a few moments ago, was now a crater.

She didn’t have time to think about it.  Unicorns were levitating wounded ponies her way, and Emberglow had to make rapid assessments.

“Basement!” she shouted at the first wounded who came past; the unicorn wasn’t breathing.  The soldier carrying her rushed ahead.  “Basement!”  The next one had a compound fracture in both legs.  “Upstairs.”  The third one was walking under her own power, gasping and coughing for breath.

“Woah.  That’s her, isn’t it?” Dustoff breathed from beside Emberglow.  “She’s looking your way.”

Emberglow glanced up.  Rarity was on the wall, safe and sound, but there was something in her eyes, a hint of doubt and fear.

“Be strong, love,” Emberglow whispered, even though she knew Rarity couldn’t hear her.  She remembered the Oracle’s words, only moments ago.  She’ll need to see you soon.  She’ll need to see your strength.

Very well.  If that is what Rarity needed from her, that’s what she would get.  She threw her mind into her task, even as the mortar rounds continued to splash around the shield and the camp.

You have no strength to show.  This is a lie.

Once again she shoved the voice deep.  No matter what she felt, she could be a pillar for Rarity, at least.


*   *   *   *   *


After that, the barrage of wounded became relentless.  Soon enough the Shrine of the Generous filled and the Angelic had to extend their protection to the tent beyond.

“Don’t know why they bothered to move everypony to begin with,” Dustoff muttered with annoyance as he and Emberglow set up a protective perimeter around the medic tent.  By now, wounded Discordant and unicorns who could still stand had joined the ranks of the Angelic, doing what they could to protect their more gravely wounded comrades from the rain of artillery from above.  “I wish we had a better idea of what’s going on.”

Emberglow agreed.  The avalanche had subsided, but now there was fighting in the courtyard itself.  She longed for a glimpse of Rarity, of Lofty or Heartwing or Terminus.  Even Topaz, who was busy at work in the Shrine itself, would have been nice to exchange a few words with.

There was a brief lull in the flow of wounded coming their way.  Emberglow sighed.

“I hate waiting,” Emberglow said.  “Knowing that any second, the worst possible news could come, but you have to keep yourself ready for it, no matter what?  The tension is too much.”

“It’s a matter of discipline,” Dustoff noted, though Emberglow noticed his hoof was resting almost constantly on the hilt of his sword.

She hadn’t known him for long, but Emberglow was starting to like the Angelic.  Dustoff was direct and to the point, and didn’t seem to play favorites as the wounded came in.  It was a pleasant surprise to meet a pony with no apparent prejudice, even for unicorns or the other non-pony races that came in to be treated. 

It made Emberglow rethink the conversation she’d had with Ambrosia, to consider it in a new light.  It was unsettling, and she didn’t like feeling this uncomfortable.

“Discipline, maybe,” Emberglow said.  “Does it get better with experience?”

“Not always,” Dustoff admitted.  He looked around the murky battlefield, chaos and violence and pain all hidden by smoke flurries.  “For me, it’s the lack of intelligence that’s bothersome.  What exactly is going on?”

“I wish I knew.”

The two ponies fell silent, both staring at the swirling smoke and chaos that spread in the courtyard.  The shrine did not have the best angle, and Emberglow was tempted to fly up for a better view.

“I’m going to the top of the shield,” Dustoff said, as if reading her mind.  He launched himself skyward, even as Emberglow saw an influx of Empire soldiers limping towards the Shrine.

“If you can walk on your own, report to the tent,” Emberglow said, inspecting each of the soldiers as they passed.  “You two, take your friend inside, she’s going to need emergency care to remove that shrapnel.”

The two bandaged ponies saluted, hauling the stretcher that bore their friend with limping steps. As soon as they passed, Emberglow looked back up again, in time to see Dustoff coming in for a landing.

“Fighting is intense,” he said.  “The Mystic airships formed a beachhead in the center of the courtyard.  The Discordant and the Empire are pushing them back, but there’s a group of Mystics trying to—"

The ground trembled, and Emberglow felt a strong sense of wrongness in the air.  Colors flashed in her bad eye; silver and green, sickly, pale retinal echoes that danced about her vision and made her wince with pain. 

“What was that?!”

“No idea,” Dustoff groaned, holding his head.  “Something bad, though.  Prepare yourself.”

Emberglow didn’t have a weapon; she did, however, have her shield strapped to one hoof, opposite her gauntlet.

“I’m low on battery,” she noted, and Dustoff huffed.

“We all are, I think,” he muttered as he drew his sword.  It was ornate; much more so than standard issue, with a curved blade and a feather pattern on the guard.  “May the Saints keep us safe from whatever’s coming.”

“You still believe in them?” Emberglow asked.  She tried not to sound accusing.

“I’m not sure anymore,” Dustoff grunted.

The artillery had stopped, the smoke and snow in the air starting to clear.  But from what Emberglow could see, things were going poorly.  Unicorns were on the ground, being swarmed by purple-armored figures.

“It’s a massacre,” Dustoff breathed.  “Look out!”

There was a group approaching.  Dustoff tensed, readying his sword, but Emberglow held a hoof out.

“Friendlies,” she said.  Lofty was at the front of a mixed squad of imperial soldiers and earth pony Knights Discordant. Dustoff lowered his sword.  “Lofty!  What’s the news?” Emberglow asked.

“It’s bad,” he said.  “The Mystics unleashed some sort of defense mechanism, a spell of some sort.  It’s messing with magic.  Mostly unicorns.”

Lofty glanced back towards the courtyard, where the worst of the fighting was.

“It’s not going well.”  He turned back towards Dustoff.  “Sir Angelic, Sir Heartwing orders you and the Radiants to begin preparing an evacuation.  We cannot provide for your safety within this battlefield.”

There was something in Dustoff’s proud eyes that flashed angrily at being given orders, but he nodded.

“My soldiers and I are here to reinforce your defenses,” Lofty said.

“What’s happening to the wounded?” Emberglow asked.

Lofty grimaced.  “Get them ready to move, as much as possible.  Maybe onto the Radiants’ airship.”

“There’s not enough space,” Dustoff said grimly, and Lofty nodded.  Emberglow closed her eyes for a second.

She would have prayed, if she believed any more.

“So Heartwing thinks we’re going to lose,” she whispered.

Lofty was at her side in a moment, his hoof lifting up her chin.

“No, Emberglow.  He doesn’t.  He’s just trying to be practical.  We’re here for a reason.  The Elements brought us together.  We still have hope.  We might just have to… adjust our plans a little to accommodate.”

“What about Rarity?” Emberglow asked.  She should have been at Rarity’s side, at the Princess’ side.

Lofty looked away silently, and a sense of disaster, that uncomfortably nostalgic cold pit of fear and helplessness, oozed to life in her chest.

“What about Rarity, Lofty?” she demanded again, and Lofty sighed.

“She’s in the thick of the fighting,” he admitted.  “Her squads, and the Princess, were trying to push through to stop the Mystics from whatever they had planned.  Last I heard they were fine.”

“And when was the last time you had news?” she pushed, and Lofty flinched.

“It has been a while,” he admitted, but he held up a hoof.

Emberglow had stepped forward.

“Wait, Emberglow.  Trust Rarity.  Trust the princess, and Bubblegum.  Everything is going to be just fine.”

It’s the same sort of lie a doctor tells a terminal patient.

“You’re needed here,” Lofty continued.  “To help the Radiants—”

Everypony suddenly went silent, eyes wide, as a booming voice rattled the ground around them.

“YOU HAVE ALL FORGOTTEN!” the voice soared over the cacophony of battle.  “YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT A GODDESS WALKS EQUESTRIA NOW!  YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN WHO RAISES THE SUN AT DAYBREAK, AND RAISES THE MOON AT TWILIGHT!”

“What was that?” Lofty sounded horrified, and all three ponies turned to stare at the battlefield, towards the center of the courtyard.

“I’ll go start making preparations,” Dustoff said.  His mouth sounded dry. 

“We’ll keep you safe as you do,” Lofty said.  His soldiers fanned out, taking the spot of Angelic and Radiant alike as they rushed back towards the tent and the Shrine at Dustoff’s orders.

“That was Princess Flurry’s voice, wasn’t it?” Emberglow said, fear clenching her heart.  Something was happening, and she wasn’t there to see it. 

Suddenly the battlefield blazed to life in tongues of orange flame.  The air filled with the sound of agonized screams.

“Saints protect us,” Lofty whispered, stunned enough to fall back on his haunches.  “What new Tartarus is this?”

“Wait, look!” Emberglow pointed as the flames lashed out.  They weren’t seeking their allies; instead they were tormenting and felling the Mystics.  “I think the Princess is doing it!”

You’ve made your bed with a monster, it seems.

Her stomach roiled. 

“It’s…” Even Lofty Tale looked ill at the sight.  “This is wrong…” he moaned, even as he gaped.

“B-but, does that mean we… we won?” Emberglow asked.  Tears burned in her eyes.  It may have been from the smoke, a greasy, foul-smelling vapor that slowly filled the air.  It was the smell of melting armor, and charred flesh. There was no relief, no catharsis in the victory.

“We can hope so,” Lofty whispered.  He stared out over the battlefield.  “There’s going to be more wounded.  You’d best be ready.”


*   *   *   *   *


Lofty’s premonition was correct.  There were a great deal of wounded, and not just Mystics.  Fighters from both sides were coming in with horrible burns. She shuddered to contemplate those who couldn’t.

It was a nightmare that would haunt Emberglow for years.  The sights, the sounds, the smells… it would take a very long time for her to forget the grisly spectacle.

Even though the battle was over, everything felt wrong.  And that sense of fundamental wrongness, that premonition the Oracle had given her?  It was still there.

Lofty had come back with fresh reports.  Nearly every single Mystic on the ground in the courtyard was dead or gravely wounded.  Those few survivors were already under Radiant care.  Any who could were fleeing.

It didn’t feel like victory.

For their part, casualties were just as dire.  Dozens of unicorns were slaughtered when the Mystics activated the defenses.  Nearly all of them were from Rarity’s teams; Emberglow’s heart ached for the mare.

“Where is she right now?” she asked Lofty, when he came in to fill her in.  She didn’t bother to say which ‘she’ she was referring to.

“Don’t know.  With the Princess, I think,” Lofty said.  “Heartwing is still skirmishing with the retreating airships.  Terminus is with him.  Topaz…”

He glanced around.  Topaz was a few beds away, holding the hoof of a dying Mystic.  His armor had melted into his flesh, and the Radiants had said he had no chance.  He was breathing his last few ragged breaths, while she looked on compassionately.

“We can’t let this continue,” Topaz said firmly, eyes full of tears.  “There has to be a line.  A limit.  I’m going to talk to her.”

“Topaz…” Lofty called out, eyes going wide with alarm.

“No, Lofty.  I’m going.  I’ll make her see reason,” she insisted, determined.

“Like you’ve done before?” He asked in protest.  “Topaz, she’s…”

“She’s my grandmother,” Topaz said.

The dying Mystic breathed one more time, before going limp. 

“I’ll go with you,” Lofty offered.  Emberglow nodded.

But Topaz was shaking her head. “No.  They need as many ponies that can cast as possible, here. Think about it.  The wounded are being lined up in spare cots outside, we’re so stuffed.  I’m…”

She glanced down helplessly at the corpse in front of her.

“I’m useless right now.  The best I can do is… hold hooves.  I’m just in the way.  If I can help Princess Flurry, that’s where I should be.  I’ll be safe; the fighting’s done.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Lofty said darkly, and Emberglow nodded.

It just felt too… abrupt.  Something was coming.  Emberglow shivered, and subconsciously glanced around, seeing if she could spot the Oracle.  She was nowhere in sight.

“Don’t you worry, either of you,” Topaz tried for a smile.  It was a pale and sickly thing.  “I’ll be fine.  Back before you know it!”

Emberglow and Lofty both looked on with concern as she departed.  There was very little time to worry about her, though, as the patients demanded attention. Still, Emberglow’s thoughts kept drifting back to everypony else, at least until the patient in front of her began wheezing desperately for breath.

Her windpipe was swelling shut, probably a reaction to the burns on her face and neck.

“Blood oxygenation spell,” she called out, as Lofty looked on helplessly.  “And I need an endotracheal tube.”

“Emberglow, I’m not a…”

“Here.”

The Oracle was once again at Emberglow’s side, holding an intubation kit.

“Thanks,” Emberglow said, as Lofty goggled at the starlit figure.  “Don’t worry about it right now, Lofty.”  She tore open the bag and fished out the laryngoscope, quickly maneuvering the small tube into the patient’s mouth and down her throat.

“I remember you,” the Oracle said.  “Starlight remembered you.  Lofty Tale.”

“You’re…”

“Let me show you the spell Emberglow wants.”

While Emberglow worked, unable to pause or to even watch what was happening, the Oracle took a stunned Lofty by the hoof and guided him through the steps of the spell.

He cast it on the first try.

“Well done, both of you,” Emberglow said, as the wounded pony began breathing again.  She carefully wrapped the Mystic mare in loose bandages before moving on to the next.  Lifesaving procedures only.

The patients started to blend together.  A Diamond Dog with abdominal burns who had to be treated for shock.  A Mystic with limb burns so bad that there were char marks on her bones.  A unicorn with a collapsed lung dying before Emberglow could even deal with the spear piercing her chest.

Then there was more shouting outside. She paused in the process of stitching together a deep cut in a unicorn’s shoulder.  Emberglow couldn’t make out what was being said, but it was clearly the Princess’ voice.

Only, something was wrong.  Like the shout they’d heard before, it was an echoing, grating thing; cruelty and menace and power all in one.

“Emberglow.”

She glanced up, meeting Lofty’s gaze.

“Don’t let it get to you.  Trust in Rarity, Heartwing, and Topaz.  It’s in their hooves now, and they’ll take care of it.  You focus here.”

She nodded, shakily, and continued with her stitching.  There was more to do.  There was always more to do.

“Sir!”

She glanced up.  It was one of Lofty’s soldiers, a young crystal pony in Imperial uniform.

“Prisoners coming in, sir.  Heartwing asked us to bring them here for medical attention.  Most of the survivors have surrendered.”

“And the airships?”

“Retreating, sir.”

“Any other enemies in sight?”

“No.”  The soldier sounded unhappy about this.  “There’s something wrong.  Something off.  A feeling in my gut… I don’t know.”  He blushed, looking away.  “Sorry, sir.  It’s not my place.”

“No, soldier.  I feel it too,” Lofty said.  “But all we can do is remain vigilant and do our duty.  When the next fight comes, it will find us prepared.”

The soldier nodded, appearing to take heart from Lofty’s words.

“Thank you for the warning.  Please go find Sir Dustoff, of the Angelic, and let him know the same thing.  Tall brown stallion in white armor, dark green military cut mane.”

The soldier saluted and darted off.

It was only a moment later that Dustoff approached.

“Sir Tale, I need a word with Sir Heartwing.  As soon as possible.”

“Heartwing is busy right now,” Lofty said dryly.  “Fighting a war.”

“I understand that,” Dustoff said, a touch impatiently.  “But we’re not your wardens or your jailors.  You can’t just dump your Mystic prisoners off on us.”

“I’m not,” Lofty noted.  “I’m letting your Radiants look over them, and make sure they have medical attention.  That’s what they wanted, correct?  At least, Lady Ambrosia implied as much when she negotiated for all of you to come in here.”

Emberglow listened even as she worked, her hooves moving automatically.

“Yes, but I don’t know if we have the resources to…”

“Then you can return them to whatever awaits outside,” Lofty said.  It was clearly a threat, and Dustoff flinched angrily.  “You heard her.”

“Your Princess,” the Angelic practically growled, and even Lofty looked ashamed.  “She’s gone too far.”

“She ended the battle,” Lofty said, though Emberglow knew that this wasn’t how he felt deep down.  She’d seen his own horrified look at the incoming burn victims.  But now wasn’t the time to show weakness in front of the possibly hostile Angelic, Emberglow guessed.

“By turning it into a massacre,” Dustoff scowled.  “You know this is wrong.  This is…”

“Sir Heartwing is handling it,” Lofty said with complete faith. 

The two stallions stared at each other for a moment.  It reminded Emberglow of two tomcats in a room, sizing each other up.  After a tense moment, Lofty ducked his head.

“What do you want us to do, then?” he asked softly.  “We don’t have anywhere else to put prisoners, and if I send them back out there again she’s probably going to kill them.”

They didn’t need to say which ‘she’ Lofty was talking about.  But Dustoff sighed as well.

“You’re right.  I’ll talk to Ambrosia about it, and see what can be done.  Meanwhile…”

His gaze flicked to Emberglow.

“If Sir Heartwing is not available, that makes you the next best thing, Sir Tale.  Some of the Mystic prisoners have admitted to… a troubling fact.”

“Should we be speaking in private for this?” Lofty asked.

Dustoff shook his head.  “Maybe.  But you both deserve to know.”

He motioned to Emberglow with one hoof.

“The new Grand Master of the Mystics, Sir Steadfast Word?  He wants Emberglow.  Alive.”

Emberglow stared at him and shuddered.  But she knew that already.

“Yeah, and?” Lofty said casually.  “We’re aware she’s a high-value target for them.”

Emberglow stared at him.  Did that mean she was being discussed behind her back?

Worried they don’t trust you?

“Still,” Dustoff said.  “The Angelic are dedicated to the protection of the Mothers.  All of them.  I think we would feel better, all of us, including Lady Ambrosia, if we could have one of ours stay close to your side, Lady Emberglow.  More, if you’ll allow it.”

“I don’t need a foalsitter,” she scowled, but Dustoff continued.

“I’ve been feeling a sense of… impending disaster,” he admitted.  “Things are going to get worse before they get better.  And maybe Emberglow is at the heart of this.  The Mystics seem to think so, and I have no desire to let them have their way.”

“I can respect that,” Lofty said.  “But the decision is Emberglow’s.”

His tone reminded her of the way Lofty used to try to protect her, back at the Seminary.

“Thanks for your permission,” she said with mock anger at him.  Lofty merely smirked.  “So, you’re offering a bodyguard?  What if I have to fight?  I thought you were neutral.”

“I understand that you’re a bit of a pacifist, yourself,” Dustoff mentioned, motioning to her shield, casually resting against a nearby wall.  “You don’t even carry a spear or any other weapon any longer, do you?”

“That hardly seems like Lady Ambrosia’s business, or yours,” Emberglow huffed.  She could tell what he wasn’t saying; this was more about Lady Fairy Light’s prophecy, and the way Ambrosia and many of the other Radiants and Angelic looked at her.  Dustoff was just a little more circumspect about it.  “But what would it look like?  Would you get in the way?”

“We only wish to keep all of the Mothers safe,” Dustoff said.

“So you’ll be offering the same to any of the Discordant who used to be Radiants?” Emberglow demanded.  She knew there weren’t very many.

“Yes,” Dustoff said without hesitation.  “Though there aren’t many Mothers among your number.  I’ve assigned one of my best to watch after your head medic Life Flight, who used to be a Radiant herself.”

“Oh.”  Emberglow hadn’t thought about that.  Perhaps if it wasn’t just her, it would be bearable.  “Very well.  You can assign me somepony.”

“After what I heard from the prisoners, I’m volunteering,” Dustoff said, his hoof on his ornate sword.  “I will keep you safe, Lady Emberglow.”

There was something formal in his promise, and she nodded wordlessly, unsure of what else to say.  Lofty looked the same, just a little uncomfortable.

“I won’t interfere with what you’re doing,” Dustoff said.  “I’ll be a silent presence.”

“Don’t you have duties here?” Lofty asked.

“Keeping the Mothers safe is our primary duty.  And if Emberglow is at particular risk for Mystic attack, I’ll want my best at her side.”

“Nopony you trust more than yourself, right?” Lofty said, and Dustoff shook his head.

“No.  There are several I trust more.”  He flinched.  “But they’re not here right now.  I am.  So I’ll have to do my best.”

Emberglow wasn’t exactly comfortable with the situation.  It felt like she was being put on a pedestal again.  Though Dustoff hadn’t mentioned anything about the prophecy, or anything like that, she could still tell she was being singled out for special treatment.

You don’t deserve it.

“Soon.”

The whisper came out of nowhere, right in Emberglow’s ear, and all three ponies leapt in startled fear.  The Oracle was right next to her, her eyes unfocused and staring.

“Soon?” Emberglow asked.  “Soon what?”

“Soon.  The darkest day of your life,” she said.  “Not just yours.  It will hurt.  Are you strong enough?  Are all of you ready?  I thought you might be, when I first saw you.  All those months ago.”

“What is coming?” Emberglow demanded, but the Oracle began to step away.  “Hey!  I’m talking to you!”  The ever-present fear in the pit of her stomach, her ongoing sense of doom, gnawed at her.  “Don’t leave!”

“Do not listen to the irreverent cacophony, Emberglow,” the Oracle said as she trotted off.  Emberglow prepared to give chase, but Dustoff held up a hoof.

“Don’t bother.  She comes and goes as she pleases, and she never makes much sense.  Demanding answers, or even begging for them, will get you nowhere.  What did she say?”

Emberglow glanced up from her bandaging.  Both Lofty and Dustoff were looking at her with curiosity and concern.  It dawned on her that they hadn’t heard what the Oracle had said.

“She said—”

But Emberglow didn’t have time to explain.  A squawk of alarm from one of the Radiants brought her head up; the older Knight was struggling with a patient as the wounded Mystic began to twitch and spasm on the emergency cot.  It was a seizure of some sort, and since Emberglow’s patient was stable, she darted over.

“Need help?” she asked the mare, who only spared a single worried glance at the yellow marks on Emberglow’s armor before nodding frantically.

The Oracle, the war, even ideological differences could wait; they had lives to save.

Once again, the world faded as she and the older Radiant helped the Mystic, bringing her fever down and casting the spells necessary to reduce the swelling in her brain.  The foreboding was still there, but buried, shoved away behind duty and obligation.  It came roaring back when Emberglow paused in her treatment, looking up to see the worried expression on Dustoff’s face as he spoke with another Angelic.  Lofty was close by, listening in.

“What?” she called out.  The two stallions trotted over.

“There’s a force incoming.  Lookouts report hundreds of fliers,” Dustoff said. “I’ve sent a messenger for Sir Heartwing, to let him know.”

This must be it, then.  Whatever it was that the Oracle kept alluding to was on its way, literally descending upon them from on high.

“So you probably really should begin an evacuation now,” she whispered, and Dustoff winced and nodded.

“Yeah.  I doubt the Diarchy will respect our neutrality the way you have.”

“Maybe that should tell you something,” Lofty said.  “Maybe neutrality isn’t possible for your kind.”

“I won’t ally myself with whatever that was,” Dustoff noted, pointing in the direction that Princess Flurry’s enhanced, terrifying voice had come from.  “Or with whatever did this.”

All three ponies went silent for a moment.  Emberglow looked around at the remnants of carnage that filled the tent and flinched.

“Thank you,” Dustoff turned back to the messenger.  “Tir, go find Lady Ambrosia and Sir Feather Bolt.  Tell them we are proceeding with the evacuation.  Whatever is coming, we don’t want to get caught in the battle.  We’ll want to send somepony out to try and negotiate, but…”

There was a grim set to his jaw.  He didn’t think any negotiation would go anywhere.  Silently Emberglow agreed.

“Yes, sir.  And.  Uh.  That Discordant?  He’s here, waiting outside.  He followed me back after my message.”

“You could have opened with that,” Dustoff scowled.  “You mean Sir Heartwing?  Bring him in.”

There was a noticeable change in the air inside the medic tent as Heartwing strode in, with Terminus following close behind him.  Several of the Mystics who were still conscious sat up, or tried to, to stare at the figure.  The wounded imperial and Discordant soldiers noticed his entrance as well, and noticed the change in the Mystics.

Dustoff and Lofty both tensed.  The Mystics looked ready for violence. Heartwing seemed above the hostility, ignoring the looks he was getting.  Terminus was not; his eyes darted about, clearly nervous and ready for an attack.  Both stallions’ armor was filthy, spattered with blood and mud.

It wasn’t until one of the Mystics started to lunge forward that anypony spoke.  It was a young pony, barely older than Emberglow herself, and she’d just finished casting the spells he would need if he was going to keep his leg.

“Knights of the Diarchy,” Dustoff called out, surprising Emberglow.  “You gave honorable surrender.  You are safe under our protection.  Does your word not mean anything to you?  Or are you as faithless as these heretics assume you are?”

The young Mystic subsided with a look of shame on his face, and Emberglow rounded on him, feeling a surge of anger.  “Don’t you dare waste all my hard work,” she hissed.  His eyes jerked to the yellow stripes on the shoulder of her own armor, and he gulped and nodded.

“That rebuke was for all of you,” Dustoff continued.  “There will be peace in this tent, peace in the shrine, and peace for all those under our care.”

He made sure to level his gaze at Heartwing at the end.  Heartwing met it and nodded.

“Well spoken, Angelic,” Heartwing said, his voice twisting over the name of the order.  “I saw your Knights packing as I entered.  Running already?”

His voice was impolite, and Emberglow felt a little fire at that.  The Angelic and the Radiant had kept their word, there was no need to taunt them.

She was about to say so, but Dustoff gave her a glance.

“We saw the force on the horizon.  The fliers.  We have no desire to get caught up in another one of your battles.”

“You asked to enter,” Heartwing noted.  “You invited yourselves.  Besides, it is not a battle on the horizon, but reinforcements.”  He grinned at Lofty and Emberglow.  “Sir Cobalt has brought some friends.”

“And will those friends rein in the monster you brought to this mountain?” Dustoff asked.  The grin disappeared from Heartwing’s muzzle.

“If there is a monster,” he said calmly, a thin sheen of peace over the anger boiling underneath, “it is one that you all created.  Not I.”

Emberglow stepped forward.  “Stop.  Both of you.  This isn’t helping.”  She looked to Heartwing.  “Where is Rarity?  Where is the Princess?  Can you tell us what’s happening?”

“The princess is…” Heartwing grimaced.  “She’s fine.  We can go over the details later.  Rarity is with her.  They’re… Rarity’s trying to help.”

“We need them back here,” Terminus noted.  “We need to share the news.”

“Right,” Heartwing said, and his horn blazed to golden light.  “Rarity?  Princess?  I’ve got news.  Forward scouts made contact with Sir Cobalt.  He’s brought reinforcements.  The dragons are coming! The dragons are on their way, and Smolder’s with them!”

“Did we need to shout that out in a room full of enemy prisoners?” Terminus asked casually.  Heartwing snorted, and shook his head.

“No.  They can know exactly what’s coming.  And exactly what they need to fear.”

But Emberglow had known him long enough to know when Heartwing was blustering, putting on a show.  She wondered what the point of this one was.

“Are you sure she heard, and got the message?” Emberglow asked. 

Heartwing shrugged.  “I can’t say for sure.  The spell has been acting up since the Mystics played their foul little trick in the courtyard.  But hopefully it will lure the Princess back here.  They went running off because the Princess wanted to scout the train station.”  He lowered his voice.  “That’s why we came to find you, once I heard the news about the dragons.  All of us need to regroup, so we can figure out what to do about the Princess.”

What Emberglow really needed, though, was to see Rarity.  It was a pressing sort of desperation, held at bay by the business and the chaos.  But the more she was able to think about it, the more she knew she needed to see Rarity.  To hold her.

You forget about your last conversation.

The guilt came crashing down around her.  Emberglow had indeed forgotten their last conversation until now; arguing about having a foal, about her parents and their insane response to Rarity and her relationship.  Her own impulsiveness, her desperate words, and Rarity’s calm response, filled her with shame.

You don’t deserve her.

The others were still talking.  Emberglow had gotten lost in her own thoughts, and had filtered out the conversation around her.  Dustoff was arguing with Heartwing.

“Sir Heartwing, with respect, my duties and yours are not at odds.  I only seek to keep my vows and protect the Mothers.  All of them.”

“The fact is, duty doesn’t enter into it, kid,” Heartwing said dismissively. “You don’t seem to get that I simply don’t trust you.”

“I understand that,” Dustoff spoke through his teeth.  It was obvious that Heartwing’s condescension was bothering him.  “But isn’t that Lady Emberglow’s decision to make?”

Heartwing opened his mouth to fire back.

“It is,” Emberglow cut him off.  “And I don’t care.”

At this point, she didn’t.  There was a desperate urge to be done with all this.  She was tired.  She wanted to hold her marefriend, to kiss her.  She needed to know Rarity was safe.  Nothing else mattered.

“Come or don’t come, I don’t care, but we need to go see Rarity.  And the Princess.” 

If they wanted to argue, Emberglow no longer had the energy to do anything about it.  She glanced around the room full of wounded ponies.  The most dire of cases had either received attention or were past help.

The other Radiants could manage the rest without her.  She’d never really been one of them anyways, no matter what the Angelic said.

With one last nod towards the tent, she began walking towards the entrance, past a stunned looking Heartwing.

“I’ll go find Topaz,” Lofty noted.  “We’ll meet up with you at the command tent.”

As soon as Emberglow stepped out into the open air of the Palace, though, she was shocked to find the moon high in the sky.  The stars were out, twinkling through the few holes in the clouds up above.  There were plenty of lights from the various lamps around the grounds, as well as light spells from Knights and unicorns.  Somehow, being inside had made the passage of time strange; she didn’t even remember when the sun went down.  Or that it had.

But then as Emberglow took her first step towards the command tent, something happened.  Her sense of foreboding, of coming disaster, pressed down on her mind hard enough to make her pause.  She felt dizzy and ill, and a cold wind seemed to come out of nowhere, blowing around the camp.

She wasn’t the only one who felt it; all around her ponies and other creatures looked about with fear and worry in their eyes.

This is what the Oracle warned you of.  You’re not ready.

Not ready.

not

not

noooooot…

Emberglow began to gasp.  The voice of her shame and guilt had never been this clear.  Always, the intrusive thoughts were just that…thoughts that happened to share the voice of ponies she’d known, ponies whose deaths she felt responsible for.  Gadget, the nameless Adamant, even Chip and Lady Justice.  Now…

weak and frail, useless and stupid

cannot change anything she dies because you fail

the mountain falls the moon falls the sun falls

nothing nothing nothing but ice and snow

She whimpered, driven to the ground, with a hoof pressed to her head.  It hurt, worse than Emberglow ever remembered a headache hurting before.  Somepony was by her side, and there was a flash of silvery light.

“Emberglow!  Emberglow, are you all right?”

Terminus’ voice.

“Emberglow, what’s going on?”

Heartwing.

“Casting a diagnosis.”

Dustoff. 

Their speech was a sound other than the screaming she heard in her head.  Different, and yet somehow distant.  She tried to anchor her focus on them, to latch onto them, like a lifeline in a storm.  She dragged herself back to the present, back to reality, and back onto her hooves.

“There’s nothing wrong with her physically,” Dustoff said, even as Terminus’ hoof went around her, holding her up.  “Lady Emberglow, what—”

“I’m fine,” she lied.  Even to her own ears her voice sounded harsh.  “Let’s go.  I need to see Rarity.”

Something had happened.  Something huge.  But she didn’t want to waste any time sitting down and thinking about it.  She couldn’t figure this out now, she had to see Rarity.

Once she saw Rarity, it would all be okay.

loss and emptiness

alone and cold and guilty

dead dead in the snow dead and frozen

The pain lanced through Emberglow’s skull again, though this time she only stumbled.  She was starting to remember.  She’d heard voices like this before, a chorus of hunger crawling out of a black void, legion.  She ignored it.

“Where was the princess last?” she managed, her voice strained.  She opened her eyes and looked around.  All three stallions were looking at her with concern.  “Well?  You said something about the train station?”

“Yes, but—”

Emberglow set off walking, and Heartwing stumbled to catch up, his gait odd.

Right.  He’d had a prosthetic applied recently.  In her exhaustion, Emberglow was starting to forget things.

She knew that this was probably a symptom of overstress.  Fear.  Maybe even shock.  Probably just like the voices she was imagining in her head.  The cold wind swirled again as the three stallions trotted behind her.

“Emberglow, wait.  We need a plan.  We need to wait for Lofty and Topaz.”

“No.  Something has happened, and I need to see her.  Why was the princess going out all by herself to investigate the train station?”

“Emberglow.” Heartwing’s voice was full of warning.  “I couldn’t stop her.  The princess… changed.  Something happened to her when she lost control.”

He shot a glance at Dustoff, clearly unwilling to have this conversation in front of the… well, if not an enemy, then a not-quite-ally. 

“So you did nothing,” she accused.

betrayed you, betrayed her

worthless like you, faithless like you

leave them all behind

For a moment she considered it, spreading her wings.  But no.  She had no idea where to even find Rarity.

Except there was.

She raised her gauntlet.

“Emberglow, what are you doing?” Heartwing asked.  He sounded frightened and exhausted himself.

“Finding Rarity,” Emberglow explained.  “She’ll be with the princess.”  She cast the tracking spell, the same one she’d used aboard the wrecked train.  Just as before, when the spell was completed her blind eye was filled with color and light.

But no path to follow.

Unlike on board the train, though, the light all around them was sickly.  It was in the snow, she realized; the snow itself seemed to ooze sickness and hate.

futile and pointless

hope chokes and dies in the ice



As soon as the voice spoke, she flinched.  The vision from her spell, the sickly radiance from the snow and wind and clouds, seemed to pulse, like some kind of twisted tumor, infected and writhing.

But Heartwing and Dustoff both flinched too.

“You hear them too?” Emberglow whispered, and their eyes went wide.

“Emberglow, don’t you listen to them for a second,” Heartwing said firmly.  “There is no good in those whispers.  Nothing good at all!  You cast them aside.”

He reached out with a hoof and pulled her to him in a hug.  This was surprising; Heartwing didn’t usually engage in physical affection with her, and for a moment the wicked pulses seemed to subside.  The wrongness all around her pulled back.

“What… what is happening?”

It felt like a fog was clearing from her brain.

“Voices on the wind, like a demon of loneliness and hate,” he intoned, whispering.  “Like hoarfrost, creeping and growing, seeping into your mind like tendrils of ice.  Windigo.”

The others recoiled, and Emberglow stared at him in horror.

“Don’t listen to the voices.  And if they speak to you, reach out to us.  Harmony is anathema to them.”

He glanced at Dustoff.

“Do you have a family, Angelic?  A wife, or foals, maybe?”

“Y-yeah.  I’m m-married, and there’s t-two kids.”

“I saw you flinch.  When you hear the Windigos, like you did, you think of them. Hold their images in your mind.  It’s not perfect, but it will silence the whispers.  When you see your family again, you hold onto them.  Friends work too, especially if they’re not pegasi like you.  Anything of Harmony will work.”

“Wh-what…”

“Just trust me.  If we’re lucky, this won’t be a problem much longer,” Heartwing noted.  “Emberglow.  Hold my hoof.  What did your spell find?”

“Nothing,” she admitted.  “There is no trail to follow.  There’s… nothing.”

Heartwing couldn’t even hide the fear he felt at that.  “C’mon, let’s hurry.  They were outside the walls.”

Emberglow began to gallop, the cadence of her hooves on the snow-dusted stone drowning out all other sounds.  She passed by soldiers and Knights, by corpses and craters.  Everything became a blur as she ran.

too late

your Oracle fails

She tried to drown the voice in the staccato of her hoofbeats.  She tried to follow Heartwing’s advice, to focus on images of her loved ones.  Rarity’s smile, her eyes, her perfect voice and infinite generosity.  The way she seemed to make everything better just with her presence.

But thinking of Rarity made her think of their argument.  And her parents.

failed her failed them

oathbreaker

Emberglow’s tears were cold little trails of wetness on her cheeks.  She felt like everything was falling apart.  Unraveling. 

She just needed to see her again.  Then it would all make sense again.

The gates were already open when they arrived.  A large force of imperial soldiers, most exhausted or wounded, were already pouring out.

At the lead was a tired looking earth pony Knight.  Emberglow didn’t recognize the brown-furred, brown-maned Knight, but he looked just as exhausted as she felt.

“Sir!” he saluted as Heartwing approached.  “We were just about to muster to find out what happened to the Empress.  She hasn’t checked back in yet, and Rarity ordered us to prepare to come after her.”

“Well done, Sir Berry.  Follow us.”

Emberglow wasn’t about to slow down, though.  The voices drove her hoofbeats faster, like a whip cracking just behind her ears.  She ran so hard her hooves hurt, and barely even heard the stampede behind her.  As she ran, slipping and stumbling in the growing snow, she raised her gauntlet and cast the tracking spell again.

Like before, there was nothing.

She should be getting closer.  Rarity should be within range.  Then why…?

“There’s something up ahead!” Terminus called out as they ran down the street.  Emberglow leapt into the air, wings spread as she flew.  It was probably dangerous; one of the airships was still hovering over the train station, while another was a speck on the horizon, already well on its way back to the capital.

Why did one leave, yet the other stay behind?

Emberglow ignored the chorus calling for her to land.  It was unsafe, there were still enemies about.  She was beyond caring.  Rarity was out there, somewhere, and her spell wasn’t working.  She cast it again.

Nothing.

She flew forward, towards where Terminus had said he’d seen something.  There was a figure in the snow, and much of the cobble underneath had been exposed.  A fight of some sort?  She darted towards it.

And froze.

“E-emberglow,” came the whisper.  It was a harsh rasp, cruel and triumphant.  Emberglow landed.

Bodies.

Four of them.

And one—

“Emberglow,” the whisper hissed again.  From one of the bodies.

Emberglow began to hyperventilate.

She rushed over to the yellow-armored figure with pale fur, first.

A flood of memories.

The same mare, snoring on a bench in an airship.

Pushing her into the ocean at Port Luminescence.

Fighting at her side on the pirate ship.

Then the betrayal.  Exile.

And…reconciliation.

As Emberglow reached out to cradle Bubblegum’s limp, cold form in her hooves, all she could think about was the look in her eyes whenever she held her son.  Emberspark, named for her.  Because she saved their lives.

Wasted.

Pointless.

“Oh, sweet Celestia above,” came Heartwing’s moan from behind her.  There was a thunder of hooves.

Emberglow didn’t look up, blinded by her tears.

“G-grandmother?”  Emberglow’s heart broke at the denial she heard in Topaz’ voice.  Apparently she and Lofty had caught up.  She almost wished they hadn’t.

“Emberglow,” the voice hissed again.

“Holy Saints, one of them’s still alive.” This one was Lofty’s voice.

“D-don’t kill him,” Heartwing’s voice was raw.  He was crying as well.  “I need to know what happened here.”

“Wh-what happened, abomination?  We w-won,” Brightblade rasped.  “W-we killed your false god.  We k-killed a traitor.  And we k-killed the lie.”

“LIAR!”

Emberglow’s shriek of grief and denial startled everypony.  She surged to her hooves, taking just long enough to lower the body of her friend to the ground before rounding on Brightblade.

Her former comrade was not in good shape.  He was bleeding orange, a foul, viscous fluid that stained the snow around him.  His eyes were barely open, and his muzzle held in a strained smile that spoke of the pain he was in.  He had a gaping wound in his chest, and from the rate he was bleeding, he didn’t have much left in him.

Most of it was melting the snow in a vile puddle around him.

“Liar!” Emberglow hissed again, dashing the tears from her eyes with one hoof.  “She’s NOT DEAD!”

“She’s as good as,” Brightblade spat, and then coughed, foamy spittle flecking his lips.  “Justice, faith, and truth always win.  It is destiny.  You were bound to lose the moment you betrayed us.”

He struggled to raise himself on one hoof, and then collapsed back into the snow.  “Come here, Emberglow.  C-closer.  And I’ll s-send you to your h-heretic l-lover.”

Her hooves moved without conscious thought.  One step.  Another.  She raised her shield.  What was she going to do with it?  Finish him off?  End him, finally put to rest his laughing face in her nightmares?

Perhaps.

“Where is Rarity?”

“Beyond your reach, traitorous bitch,” Brightblade spat again.  He couldn’t even lift his head from the snow.

“Sir, he’s…” Lofty whispered, and gulped.  “Should we…”

“Let him rot there,” Heartwing hissed.

Emberglow took another step forward.

“I… I did it, Steadfast.  I told you I could,” Brightblade was muttering.  His eyes were glazed, unfocused and dull.  He was close.  “It’s over, Hollybright.  I’m better.  I’m… I’m… I…”

And he slumped into his own tainted gore.

Emberglow stared at him for a moment, before taking another step closer.

“Where is Rarity, Brightblade?” she asked the corpse, her voice low.  “Where is she?  Where is she, you bastard!”  Her voice crescendoed to a shriek, and she lunged.

There was no plan, only the burning need to do violence.

“Emberglow!”

Heartwing’s cry didn’t snap her out of it, but Terminus’ wings did.  They wrapped around her from behind, pulling her back.

“Hold on there, Emberglow.  Please.  That stuff’s dangerous.  You don’t want to touch it.”

“HE KNOWS WHERE RARITY IS!”

“He’s gone, Emberglow.  But we’ll find her.  I promise.”

She let out a sob, and collapsed backwards.  Terminus caught her, and pulled her back.

“W-what now?” Lofty asked.  He looked dumbfounded as he glanced around at the carnage.  Topaz clung to his side, sobbing silently. “Saints, they killed the princess.  What do we do now?”

Heartwing closed his eyes for a moment.  When he opened them, they were full of rage.

“Our first step,” he growled.  “Is to find Rarity.  Then we see what we can do about those that did this… this blasphemy.  They… they killed an eternity.”

Emberglow let out a sob.  It was the same thing Princess Flurry had said about Saint Twilight, at Heartwing’s trial.

All around them, Discordant Knights, imperial soldiers, and one stunned looking Angelic looked on silently as Heartwing slowly reached out to take Princess Flurry’s limp hoof.

“You were one of the greatest who ever lived,” he spoke softly.  “I know you hated me.  You deserve a better voice than mine to remember you.  I am sorry.  I wish…”

He paused, narrowing his eyes.

“There’s… something in her hoof.”

He held it up.  It was a necklace.

“I recognize this.  Emberglow?”

She glanced at it, squinting.  It was hard to see in the dark.  Heartwing seemed to read her mind, and lit his horn.

“That’s… Rarity was wearing that.  A necklace.”

She slipped out of Terminus’ embrace and trotted over, taking the necklace.  It was a single gem, a teardrop shape.  It looked familiar, but in Emberglow’s churning mind she couldn’t quite place it.

“I…”

“Emberglow!  What are you doing?”

She was holding the necklace up in one hoof.  Her gauntlet in the other was raised, poised to cast.

“I can track her.”

“Don’t you remember?” Terminus offered kindly.  “You are all the link you need for that spell.”

“But it’s not working.  She’s too far away.”

or she’s dead

dead and gone

gone and cold

ours to consume to feast to destroy

“Maybe two focuses will work better,” she said, and cast the spell again.

Light flared again in her bad eye.  Brilliant blue light, the color of Rarity’s magic, filled every corner of her vision.  For a moment, the droning, vicious whispered words were driven a thousand miles from her mind.

Emberglow was blind.  There was nothing except blue.  She could hear herself screaming, either in pain or in fear, she wasn’t sure.

There were other voices too; Terminus and Lofty, Heartwing and Dustoff.  The other Knights and soldiers. 

And then the blue faded, shrinking and focusing into a single point.  A single glimmer of light.

A tiny star.

Hope.

“Rarity is alive.”

Her voice was sandpaper, her throat raw.  The cold wind stung at her cheeks.

But there was hope in her heart.

“Rarity is alive,” she repeated.

“Emberglow, how can you…”

But she didn’t have time to listen.  Her hoof moved on its own, sliding through the air on an instinct she did not understand.  The star of hope became a line.  Then a rune.

And there was another voice.  Not the vicious, vile mockery of the windigoes.  Not the personification of her guilt.

But an enemy turned friend.  A life she had saved, once.

She needs you.  Good luck.

“Bubblegum?” she whispered even as she drew the runes in the air.

A gift, from the stars to you, Emberglow.  Light the flame of hope.

“Emberglow, what are you doing?” Heartwing’s voice was full of fear.  “Emberglow, no.  You can’t.  it won’t work.  It’s never worked.  Rune magic can’t—”

Emberglow was not interested in what rune magic could and couldn’t do.  What she knew was two things.

She was here.

The light of hope, Rarity’s light, was somewhere else.

She wrote the runes that Bubblegum gave her, and with her magic, the sometimes holy, sometimes profane magic of the Knighthood, she made the two places into one.

The last thing she felt was the hooves of her friends, desperately trying to grasp onto her as the spell took hold.  And then reality shifted.

And Emberglow teleported.
> Interlude: The Darkest Day of Your Life
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Interlude: The Darkest Day of Your Life


Cadance knew the moment it happened.  She felt an immense void, like the thrust of a spear through her heart.

She was alone when it happened, in her chambers, surrounded by the crayon drawings and the shrines of the dead.  And then, with no warning, the sun and the moon were calling to her.

Adrift.

As if they had been cut from their mistress for the last thousand years.

Remember, on the darkest day of your life…

Cadance’s wail alerted the guards, who rushed in to find her screaming and panting.  She ignored their demands to know what was happening, instead lifting her head and firing off a teleportation spell.  She was rusty, and it exhausted her, but with a crack of power she appeared in a room she hadn’t set hoof in for centuries.

She’d apologize to the guards later.

Her old room, the one she’d shared with her beloved Shiny, was clean and free of dust.  Cadance knew the maids came in and cleaned on occasion.  She knew Flurry came here when she got lonely.  She knew even Topaz had snuck in here once, to steal a gem that was her destiny. 

On the darkest day of your life…

She’d thought about it, on the day Twilight died.  That had been a dark day.  Shining Armor had been there, withered and ancient but still her strength and her pillar.  He’d kept her from slipping too far.

When Shining had died, she and Flurry had held each other up.  It didn’t hurt that he’d been wise enough to prepare her for it.

There were other dark days, too.  The day her first grandchild passed.  The day the shield went up.  The day she learned how the Diarchy was making Knights.  And on and on.

Darkest day…

This time Cadance knew.  This was the day Celestia was speaking about in her cryptic note, left all those years ago in this very room.

Cadance rushed over to the bed she’d shared with Shiny, the bed she hadn’t slept in for centuries.  It was held together by magic and memory.  She flipped up the duvet, clean and ready for her should she ever desire to return to these quarters, and dug under the bed for a small box.  Slipping it out, she pulled back the hinged metal lid to reveal an even smaller box inside, complete with a note on top.

The small jewelry box had appeared in her room, years after Celestia and Luna had left to walk the Starlit Path.  It had appeared on her pillow, with a note bearing Celestia’s hornwriting.  She reached out to touch the paper, still miraculously intact after all these years, and read the words aloud.  Her voice cracked as she sobbed.

“Remember, on the darkest day of your life, cry your tears into the ashes of eternity.  The cycle continues, the Starlit Path is eternal, the heart never forgets.”

Cadance knew the Path was eternal.  But Flurry had always resisted their conversations about it.  She’d always been afraid of that part of her heritage.  And now she was there, herself.

A cold claw of fear clenched around Cadance’s heart.  What if Flurry wasn’t connected to the Path, the way she was?  The way all alicorns were?  For a moment, she wanted to cast the tiny jewelry box aside, move her consciousness to the Path itself, to seek out her daughter.  But she resisted.

With one shaking hoof, she pushed back the lid of the jewelry box.  Cadance had never opened the box, and had no idea what to expect.  Inside was a pile of fine gray ash, almost dust.

“Cry my tears into the ash, Princess?” Cadance whispered.  “I’ll have no shortage of tears today.”

But for a few moments she stared at the pile of gray dust in the gilded jewelry box, and was unable to cry.  She was dry, empty and hollow.

“Oh, Shining,” she whispered.  “How do I go on?  How can I possibly…”

She looked around the room.  At the dresser where he’d kept his clothes and his old uniform.  At the window where he’d liked to look out and watch the rare snowstorm.  At her vanity, where he’d try to sneak up while she was distracted putting on makeup in order to steal sneaky kisses.  At the bed, where they’d made love. 

She breathed in, wondering if she could catch a hint of his scent, before scoffing at her own foolishness.  Of course there wouldn’t be a trace.  Not after a millennia.  Her laughter was a bitter thing, dry and hateful.

“I’m such a fool, Shining.  And now I’m all that’s left.”

You’re never too far away from the Path.

“What good does that do me, Twilight?” Cadance shrieked into the empty room.  “My entire family is dead!”

Twilight didn’t answer.  But Cadance felt a tug, the pull of the Path, threads of otherness clutching at her very soul.  She let herself slip out of the present and into the space between the now and the eternal.

The room disappeared.  The walls, the carpets, the fresh clean air and the old shattered memories faded away, replaced by the star-filled path twisting ahead of her. 

For a moment, the threads kept tugging, and Cadance resisted.  Nearly every part of her screamed to just let go, to slip into the Starlit Path and drift, like Celestia and Luna had done so many years ago.  But she steeled her will and stopped herself before she teetered over the edge.

“Soon,” she whispered.  “But not yet.  Not yet.  There’s still more to do.”

Cadance closed her eyes.  She didn’t need to see to know that the stars were there, or to know that the path would guide her hooves.  But she planted them hard upon the smooth, arcane surface. 

“I’m here, Twilight.  What did you want to tell me?”

“I’m so sorry, niece.” 

It wasn’t Twilight’s voice, but Cadance hadn’t expected that.  She opened her eyes, knowing who would be standing in front of her.

Celestia and Luna were just as tall and regal as they had ever been.  Cadance felt tiny in their presence, as she always had when they’d walked Equestria.  But maybe right now she wanted to be tiny.  She wanted to be wrapped in their hooves and wings, to feel warm and safe and loved, to pretend that everything hadn’t just gone so very wrong.  The warmth of her elders surrounded her, their phantom touch beating back against the cold in her chest.

“What do I do?” she whispered.  After hours.  Or days.  The embrace around her tightened.

“What do you want to do?” Luna asked.  “You said before you’re not ready to join us yet.”

“It would be so easy, though.”  Cadance hated the longing in her voice.  The exhaustion.

“Less than you think,” Luna said sardonically.  “If we had known what was coming…”

No…

The whisper made them all perk up.  It flowed between the stars, over and under and through the path, through the mares who stood on it.  It stirred their manes and warmed their souls.

“Twilight?” Cadance called.

The blame is not yours, Luna.  Nor yours, Celestia.  It is mine.  You trusted me, and I failed you.

Cadance joined her voice to the others in a chorus of protest, but the wind blew again, silencing them all.

All of us have worked to end this.  All of us have made sacrifices.  But none more than you, Cadance.  I called you here to reward your faith, your patience, your tears. 

“Tell me she made it here, Twilight,” Cadance cried.  “At least tell me that much.”

“You know that as an alicorn who died, rather than coming here as we did, her presence will be thin.  But feel for yourself.”  Celestia stepped away from Cadance, smiling gently despite the tears sparkling in her eyes.

Cadance knew what she meant; she’d come here often enough to commune with Twilight, seeking wisdom and comfort.  Now instead of seeking her sister, she sought another, closer presence.  One she’d hoped to never need to seek this way.

It was there.  She was there.  Cadance sobbed with both relief and sorrow.  She felt the echo of the anger of a thousand arguments, she smelled the aroma of bakery treats snuck into her room.  She felt the soft fur of a foal cuddled to her chest, the wetness of childhood tears wiped away by a hoof.  She heard her voice, at times kind, at times passionate, at times angry, but always loved.

It was weak, but Twilight had been weaker, here, when she’d first died.  But Flurry was here.  She’d made it to the Path.

Tears sprang from her eyes, and Cadance cried.  She wept and sobbed and wailed, surrounded by the silent presence of her family.  When she felt real light on her eyelids again, she was in Shining’s empty room, her tears splashing down into the dry ashes in the jewelry box.  The tears dripped down, flowing over the ash, collecting the dust as it rolled together in the center of the box.  They continued to stream off Cadance’s cheeks as she stared, wondering, at the pool collecting in the ash.

The tears rolled and pooled, shimmering with a soft red glow.  It grew and grew, shaping into a warm red egg.

A phoenix egg.

“Philomena?” Cadance knew there were other phoenixes in the world.  But her heart knew; there was no other egg that looked like hers. 

The egg cracked, splitting open with a dramatic burst and a flash of embers.  Feathered wings spread wide, and Philomena cawed in victory as she rose from the shell of her egg and ashes.

For a moment, the phoenix hovered in the air, her wings beating gracefully as she looked down at the broken, crying princess before her.  Then, with a caw of urgency, she took wing, looking over her shoulder.

“Philomena?”  Cadance cried.  “But… wait!  Where are you…?”

Philomena flew just quickly enough that Cadance could barely keep up.  She dashed after the red streak, ignoring the startled exclamations of the guards as they chased after her.  Ahead, Philomena’s urgent cries pushed her to run as quickly as possible.

The cycle continues.

She passed by servants and courtiers, quickly enough to see their nervous and fearful expressions shift to surprise.  How could they possibly know already, when she--

It was still dark outside.  She must have been on the Path all night long, but the sun hadn’t risen.  Everypony knew something was wrong, they just didn’t know what. 

Some part of Cadance knew she’d have to take care of that eventually, but she had a phoenix to follow.  The ponies would understand.  They would accept the basic truth with a calming word and a careful speech.

She wasn’t sure she’d be ready to give speeches for a while.

Cadance’s breath burned in her chest as she panted.  She was out of shape, and this desperate chase through the palace halls wasn’t helping.  But every time she started to slow, Philomena urged her on with a piercing cry from up ahead.  She forced her aching limbs to motion. 

“You’re… leading me to… the infirmary?” Cadance panted.  Philomena squawked affirmatively, but didn’t slow.

There were guards in front of the infirmary door; Flurry had ordered them there, ever since the failed assassination attempt on their lives.  They jerked straight and brandished their spears as soon as Philomena approached, but she merely hovered in the air, waiting.

“Open the doors,” Cadance rasped.  “It’s fine, let her through.”

“Y-yes, Empress,” the guard stammered, and fumbled his spear on his way to yank open the door.  “Do you require…”

Cadance didn’t wait for him to finish, and neither did Philomena.  They both rushed through the open door, where Doctor Heartthrob and a nurse were standing over Sunset Shimmer’s bed, on the far end of the infirmary.

“Excuse me, but…” the doctor began, glancing up.  He wore goggles over his eyes, some sort of magical sensor.  “…Empress?”

“Leave the room, please,” she said, firmly but gently.  Heartthrob opened his mouth to object, but then shrank back.

“Yes, Empress.  Right away.”

“Close the door behind you.”

She paid no more attention to the doctor or the nurse as they slipped out of the infirmary, closing the door with a gentle click.  Her attention was already on the still figure before her.

Sunset Shimmer.  She barely remembered the mare from a scant few interactions in the Canterlot Palace before Sunset had fled, chasing her own destiny.  What Cadance remembered was not positive; Sunset had been ambitious, condescending, cruel.

The mare on the bed somehow felt nothing like the one in Cadance’s memories.  She looked so small and helpless.  A thin hospital blanket draped over her body, hiding her wings.  An IV tube trailed under the blanket, where Cadance was sure it was strapped to Sunset’s hoof.

Philomena landed gently on the pillow, right next to Sunset’s head.  She leaned down and let out a soft cry, almost a croon, and leaned down to gently stroke Sunset’s cheek with her beak.

The cycle continues.

“So what? Now I have to replace my daughter with some… stranger?” Cadance hissed.  “I’ll mentor her.  I have to.  But…”

Not replace.  You have so much love, mother.

Cadance’s breath froze in her chest as her daughter’s voice, eerie and distant through the film of the Starlit Path, flowed into her mind and made her shiver.

So much love to stay wrapped up inside.  So much love to keep locked away.  The new generation will need your guidance, yes.  But they’ll need your love more.

“I… I can’t…”

The cycle continues.  The Starlit Path is eternal.  We’re relying on you. 

“What if…”  She couldn’t force out the question.  Tears slipped down her cheeks to drip against the bedsheets.

Take strength not just from us, but from your pupils.  We are all together.  We are all part of the Path. 

A ray of sunshine split the sky, and Cadance raised a hoof to shield her eyes.  Sunrise.   But she hadn’t called to the sun.  “How is… I didn’t…”

Philomena gave another cry, this one somehow brighter, happier.  Cadance glanced down, squinting from the light that spilled through the window.  Sunset Shimmer stirred, and, with a grimace, opened her eyes to the light.  Wide blue eyes darted about the room in confusion before focusing on Cadance.

We believe in you.  We trust you.  Guide them well, Empress.

Cadance blinked away her tears, forcing a smile as she looked down at the youngest alicorn.  “All hail Princess Sunset Shimmer.  May the sun never set on her reign.”

 
> Chapter 66
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 66


Emergency letter, sent from Occluded Lens of the New Canterlot City Astrological and Meteorological Association, to Lady Mockingbird, Knight Jubilant

Lady Mockingbird-

As a result of our long friendship, my superiors in the New Canterlot City Astrological and Meteorological Association have asked that I write you this urgent note.   I am sure, given all the chaos and terror happening with the heretics up on the mountain that you have your hooves far too full to deal with the problems of a lowly scientist.

And yet, something is not right, and I’m hoping that you might spare some insight.

As you know, the NCCAMA tracks meteorological data across the Diarchy.  We work closely with the weather service pegasi to provide the most accurate weather charts, rain flow patterns, exact times of sunrise and sunset, that sort of thing.

Today the sunrise was forty-two minutes late.  We are normally able to predict the time of sunrise accurately within two minutes of variance.  This was so far outside our margin of error that our entire office was re-checking math and schedules for hours.  We were flooded with messages and ponies demanding to know what had happened.  We’ve been dealing with it all day.

Please, if you have any ideas, let me know.  We’re afraid to make any sort of predictions for tomorrow’s sunrise, because we have yet to determine what went wrong in the first place.  For the Saints’ sake, we’ve been using models that have been accurate for the last six hundred years!

If there’s anything you can do to help, please let us know.

The Skies Over Equestria, 1113 AF

It was, perhaps, a foolish choice to take an emergency cross-country trip on muscles that hadn’t existed a few months ago.  But Sunset Shimmer didn’t have time for thorough, rational decision making.

Princess Sunset Shimmer, she reminded herself as her wings beat the cold air.  They burned with effort, sore and straining as she pushed herself harder than she’d ever pushed before.  It was even more frustrating to see the four changelings, two pegasi, and one phoenix flying alongside and behind her, moving as if it were effortless.

Princesses had to have guards, of course.  But did they have to be so damned athletic?  She didn’t like being shown up, and that inner competitive spark that had burned in her chest since her childhood was annoyed at how easily they were keeping up, even though all but one of them were keeping a respectful distance behind her.

Some of it must have shown on her face, because her companion to her left dipped his huge draconic wings to lower himself a bit.

“My offer is genuine, Princess.  Climb on and rest.  I will happily carry you for a few miles.  Your wings are brand new, and those spells you’ve been casting can’t be good for your health in the long run.”

“Or you could always transform yourself into something that isn’t as good at flying,” Sunset muttered.  The ‘dragon’ laughed, a loud, bass sound that rumbled his whole torso.

“I suppose I could at that,” he said.  “But then we’d all be tired.”

“Thank you for offering, Oak, but no.”  She didn’t know why Cadance had assigned an older, retired changeling spy to be the captain of her personal guard.  But she didn’t mind.  Even only knowing him for a few hours, she already appreciated his sharp mind and his even sharper wit.  “What sort of image would that create?  A princess that can’t even carry her own weight.”

“Pardon me for saying, Princess, but you’re thinking about this all wrong,” Oak said.  “It’s not about whether or not you can carry your weight.  It’s all about appearances.  When you arrive at the camp, flying on your own power, it will be impressive.  Even more so if you don’t even appear winded.  Who needs to know that you perhaps didn’t come the whole way on your own?  Your guards certainly won’t say. 

“Oh good, my first official act as a princess is to lie,” Sunset called back.  She was beginning to breathe hard; it was almost time to cast another enervation spell.

“No, princess.  Not a lie.  Optics.  A sacrifice, to give your ponies what they need to see right now.”

That stung.  It also was very strange to hear them referred to as ‘her ponies’.  Ponies she had never met before, now looking to Sunset Shimmer for leadership.  Ponies like Rarity, Twilight Sparkle’s friend.  And Heartwing, who she had heard was somehow Discord, but somehow not.  She had so many questions for both when she met them.

But Oak Chips was right.  So she dipped her wings, shivering as she passed through another tuft of icy cloud, and tried to land gently and gracefully on the broad, scaly back.  Philomena kept pace, but she didn’t land, instead flying at her side.

Was that a smug look the phoenix gave her?

“Thank you, princess,” Oak said.  Sunset almost snarked back at him, especially when her weight made very little change to the pattern of his wingbeats.  He wasn’t even a very big dragon in this form!  It wasn’t fair that this was all so easy for him.

“No, thank you.”  She could be polite, but some of her iciness probably slipped through, because she felt him laugh again.

“You’re doing the right thing.  Lay down and nap.  I’ll alert you when we’re getting close to the mountain, and you can fly the rest of the way.”

“I’m not going to sleep, Oak.  We only have so much time, and I still need to know the rest of the situation.  Tell me what we know about the opposition.  I want to hear about the pony that leads the Knights Mystic.”

“You met Princess Flurry’s student?  The unicorn, not the foal.”

“Lightning Bug, right?”  She had reminded Sunset of herself.  Ambitious, sometimes fiery, and way too world-weary for her age.

“It’s her father.  We know he killed her mother because she tried to hide Lightning from him.  That’s how dedicated he is.  We also know he’s the puppetmaster type.  He likes to control and influence other ponies by befriending them and earning favors.  He’s a power broker and he’s good at reading ponies and predicting their responses.  He’s also not above murder in order to accomplish his goals; we suspect he is behind the deaths of at least two of his superiors, though we can’t prove it.

“He was the one who manipulated the Diarchy ambassador into trying to assassinate Princess Flurry and Empress Cadance,” Oak said.  “The ambassador bore a poisoned dagger, something that was supposed to work only on alicorns.  The fact that Steadfast Word has developed a way to murder alicorns…” she felt a shudder buzz through his entire body.  “He needs to be stopped, Princess.”

“I’m on it,” Sunset said.  She meant it, too.  Sunset had seen enough in the last few weeks (well, last few weeks for her; time travel was confusing) that she’d probably be making therapists rich for years, but one thing that would probably always haunt her was the look on Cadance’s face.  It was the first thing Sunset had seen when she’d woken up.

There was a time when she might have been overjoyed to see Cadance hurting.  Not any longer.

“Tell me what we know about the Diarchy forces?  Where are they concentrated, how quickly can they  mobilize, that sort of thing.”  She had to be caught up to speed if she was going to lead these ponies immediately after Flurry Heart’s tragic death.

It was a testament to how far Sunset had come in her life that she could mourn for a pony she’d never even met.  At least there was always the Path. 

I’ll find you there, Flurry.  I hope we can be friends.  I hope I’ll do you proud.

It wasn’t much of a prayer, and Sunset shivered again at the cold wind.  Now that she wasn’t flying herself, her sweat was chilling on her fur, and she was beginning to freeze.  She should have brought a blanket, or something.  The image made her laugh a little. 

Again, though, her reactions hadn’t gone unnoticed.  Her captain of the guard was quite good at reading ponies, it seemed.  “Right saddlebag, second pocket, princess,” he said.  Sunset carefully opened the dragon-sized bag in question, pulling out a large, thick wool cloak.  With some difficulty because of the rushing wind, she managed to levitate the cloak around herself, pulling it tight around her body.  “Crouch down as much as you can, too.  That’ll reduce the drag and help with the wind.  I’d change into something more warm-blooded, but then we’d lose the flying efficiency.”

“You’re f-fine, I’ll m-m-manage.” Sunset realized, with some embarrassment, that her teeth were chattering.  She cast a quick spell to heat up the cloak, and immediately sighed as the warmth spread through her back.

“If you were anything but a pegasus or alicorn, you’d be catatonic with hypothermia by now,” he said.  “It’s that pegasus blood in you, princess.  Good thing.”

“N-now I just have to try to not fall asleep.  Go on, keep talking.”

It was harder than Sunset thought; the warmth of the blanket was enough to make her realize just how drowsy she was.  As she listened to Oak Chips talk about troop and army placements, airship and locomotive logistics, she had to fight to keep her eyes open.  She found herself dreaming, longingly, of a double shot of espresso in her favorite white mocha from Sugar Cube Corner.

It probably wasn’t the best time to think of Pinkie.  Or any of the others.  Meeting another Rarity, not her Rarity, would likely be difficult, too.  But as her mind drifted, lulled to sleep by Oak Chips’ calm voice and the rushing of the wind as they flew, she couldn’t help but take the thought of them along to her dreams.


*   *   *   *   *


Sunset was human again, sitting on a swing at a foal’s (no, not foal’s, children’s) playground.  She recognized it as the playground for Canterlot Elementary, only a few blocks from the High School.  She’d spent a bit of time there; at first, mentoring younger students who were struggling to learn to read fulfilled the hours of community service she’d agreed to in lieu of paying to repair the façade of Canterlot High (something vastly outside her price range).  It didn’t take long before she was enjoying the volunteer work for its own sake.

The playground, however, usually so full with the happy clamor of children, was still and empty.

“Pinkie?” Sunset called out.  There was no answer.  “Applejack?  Rarity?  Rainbow?”  Each name was another knife of pain, but she couldn’t stop.  “Fluttershy?  Twilight?”  Nobody came.

She kicked off with her feet, listening to the gentle squeak of the swing chains above her and the scuff of her black sneakers in the dirt below.  She wasn’t quite short enough to swing comfortably, but she was too lazy to lift her feet and really get going.  So she idly swung, back and forth, listening to the sounds of nothing.

Nobody.

Nopony.

“Girls?  Seriously, is nobody there?”

Silence, except for the squeak.

Screech-squeak-scuff, as she swung forward, then back.

Screech-squeak-scuff, as she watched the elementary school building.  Any moment now, Pinkie would come out asking for her to come to the cafeteria to help serve snacks.  Or her phone would buzz with a message from Rarity, updating her on last night’s date.  Or she’d hear the tell-tale sounds of a basketball striking pavement and a groan of disappointment from Rainbow as the ball bounced off the rim. 

Screech-squeak-scuff.  Any second now.

Screech-squeak-scuff.

Sunset reached for her phone, leaning to the side in the too-small swing to pull it out of her front pocket.  She tapped the screen to turn it on.  Maybe there was a message waiting for her.

Screech-squeak-scuff.

Nothing.  The screen was blank; black and lifeless.  She hit the on button on the side of the phone.  It beeped, but the screen didn’t light up.  Still nothing.

“Damn thing.  Didn’t I remember to charge you last night?”

Last night.  Huh.  Her charger was next to her bed, in the loft in her apartment.  Hadn’t she…

Screech-squeak-scuff.

When had she charged her phone last?  With a shrug, she put it away, next to the keys to her motorcycle…

Wait.

Her keys were missing.  Maybe in her other pocket?  She patted her jeans, looking for her keys.

Screech-squeak-scuff.

They weren’t there, either.  Oh well, she could fly when it came time to get home.  She flared her wings wide, lifting herself from the swing and down to earth on all four hooves. 

Wait.

Hooves?

The swing still moved back and forth from the momentum of her dismount.  Screech-squeak.  But it was so much taller now.  She was a pony again?  When had that happened?

Wait.

Wings?

A cold shiver of terror crawled down her spine.  Wings.  She had wings.

“Wait, I’m not supposed to…”

The school bell sounded.  Only, something was off.  It wasn’t the normal buzz that announced the end of recess for the children; rather it was a single, jarring chime.  It vibrated the air around her.

Sunset.

The bell rang again, and Sunset jumped into the air, wings flapping.

Sunset!

Her fear became a wind, spinning around her and making her shake with cold.  Every limb was stiff and sore.  Hoarfrost grew along her feathers.  Sunset looked up; the wind was blowing aside the clouds, the sky, even the sun, stealing all the joy and warmth, leaving only empty, silent, cold shivers.

Sunset!

The bell rang again, and for a moment the sky seemed to split, leaving behind a silvery thread of light.  The moon and stars tried to peek through the blackness.  The wind howled and raged, but the stars and the moon glowed with their own warmth. 

Hold onto the sun, Sunset!

The bell rang one last time, and Sunset reached, yanking the sun back into the sky as the wind screamed its icy fury all about her.

Hold on, Sunset!  And come find us when you are ready!


*   *   *   *   *


It was the sudden loss of momentum that jerked Sunset awake with a yelp.  Blinking, she looked around herself.  It was still daylight, though the sun had moved several hours worth.  Late afternoon, by Sunset’s guess.  Underneath her, Oak Chips was silent.  Philomena no longer flew, but instead had curled up elegantly at her hooves, in a fold of the blanket.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to sleep,” she called out loudly. Philomena stirred and crooned softly.

“Sorry, Princess.  My mistake.  But at least this way you’ll be well rested when we land.”

Sunset narrowed her eyes.  Wasn’t she supposed to be the princess?  And her captain was already ‘managing’ her like a doting dad.  She decided to let it pass for now.

“How much longer until we reach the mountain?”

“See for yourself, Princess,” Oak said.  Sunset lifted her eyes, looking ahead to the south.  She could indeed spy the needle-like peak of the Canterhorn, oddly still familiar even a millennia later.  There would only be a couple more hours before they landed.

There was a moment of panic at the realization.  Sunset wasn’t ready.  She hadn’t had enough time to prepare.  She still didn’t know everything there was to know about troop placement, her available assets, logistical, physical, and living, or even the current strategic situation.  She’d slept through it all!

Panic is natural.  The words, spoken in Celestia’s voice, brought her spinning thoughts up short.  It was something Celestia had taught her, back when she’d been the Princess’ unicorn student.  Panic isn’t cowardice, and it’s not weakness.  But giving in to panic can lead to errors and regrets.  So you allow yourself to feel it, and then you work through it.

“You’re prepared for this, Princess.  Or so I’ve heard.  The Empress herself told me that you were the personal student of two princesses, before you earned your own ascension.  You fought a rebellion that frighted the Diarchy so badly that they still tell horror stories about you to this day.  You’re an inspiration to thousands.  Even while you were sleeping off your transformation in the palace infirmary, the ponies and other creatures in the streets were celebrating your arrival.  We already love and support you, and we trust you.”

It was like he knew her thoughts.  Something rubbed against her cheek; Philomena was offering comfort too, with an affectionate nuzzle.  She gently stroked the phoenix with one wing-tip.

“That level of trust’s supposed to help?” Sunset sighed.  But oddly enough, it did.  She had been trained for this by Celestia, even if her life had taken a few detours along the way.  And she’d studied friendship under Twilight Sparkle, if you could count an interdimensional correspondence course.  She had prepared to lead.  And she’d do her best.  Not because she wanted to, but because of what might happen if she didn’t.  Something about his last sentence, however, stuck in Sunset’s head.  “Tell me, Oak.  How do you feel about me?”

Oak Chips was quiet for a very long time, before sighing.  “Did the Empress explain why I am the captain of your guard?”

“She said you volunteered.  That you came out of retirement just for this.  She also said you had a brilliant mind, and you would be one of the best for helping me get up to speed in the modern world.”

“That’s gracious of her.  I’ll do my best.  But did she say why I volunteered?”

“No.  I assumed it was personal.”  Sunset hadn’t wanted to pry.

“It is.  Family, even.  I feel a certain responsibility for your life and your safety, princess.  Because it was my nephew who went back in time to bring you here.”

Sunset was speechless.  Wordlessly she lowered her head, nuzzling against the body of the flying dragon beneath her.

“His name was Escher,” Oak said.  “And he died to bring you to us.  And I’ve thought about this a lot, Princess, but please know this.  He was right.  And it hurts, but if he were here now, instead of me?  If I had gone back to get you?  He’d be right here where I am, flying you south.  So if I’m going to honor who he was, then I’m going to stand by your side and make sure you have everything you need.  Every ounce of support, every drop of loyalty, every inch of devotion.  Because it’s what Escher would do.”

“Thank you,” she called out.  There was nothing else to say.  She blinked at tears shed for a changeling she’d never truly met.

The silence that followed, however, proved to be a little much for Sunset.  So she retrieved one of the other objects from Oak’s saddlebags.

“Will it make too much drag if I cast a bit of an air shield over myself?  I’ll try to make it aerodynamic.”

“Try, and we’ll see,” Oak called back.  “Just don’t tire yourself out.”

“This could be important.”  She cast her shield spell, and felt Oak beat his wings.  Suddenly the wind around her dropped to nothing; the cloak stopped flapping around her, and the cold cut down dramatically.  She couldn’t help but sigh with relief. 

“That’s fine,” he called back.  “Just don’t get too comfortable.  I don’t want to be yelled at again for letting you fall asleep, princess.”

“Yes, sir!” Sunset mock-saluted at him with one hoof and felt him rumble under her hooves with a laugh.

Now that the wind shear was down to nearly nothing, she opened the book she’d retrieved from the bags.  At least she didn’t have to worry about the journal pages being torn or jerked about by the wind.  It wouldn’t take her long to skim through the most important bits.

“Thanks for packing this book for me,” she called out.

“The Empress mentioned you were a scholar, from what she could remember,” Oak called back.  “What kind of book is it?”

“It’s actually a series of reports from a changeling named Fata, sent to Queen Chrysalis the Second.”

“Old Fata Morgana?  I read about her in school as a nymph,” Oak said.

“She was one of the first of your kind to make any significant progress on unraveling Knighthood.  I’m just trying to fill in some of the holes of my understanding.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Yeah.  I wanna know about that foul potion they make.  I know what they use to make it, but it’s bugging me.  Unicorn horn as a potion catalyst for permanent power transfer?  There’s gotta be a more efficient way to make that work.”

“The Discordant have another method, when they can’t use donor horns.  Something about channeling unicorn magic into the potion for weeks.”

“Yeah,” Sunset flinched.  “That’s inefficient, too.”

“Sorry.  If there’s time, you’ll be able to ask Heartwing himself when we arrive.”

There was little chance of that.  Sunset was sure things would be quite busy.  But she read on anyways.

The sun continued to inch across the sky, and as Sunset concentrated on the notes in the book at her hooves, she could feel its presence.  Warm, loving, proud; it was like a little piece of Celestia in the back of her mind.  At the same time, though, it felt massive.  She’d tried not to think about all that power, all that magic and potential. 

She supposed she’d have to get used to the sensation of having it at her beck and call.

No, that was wrong.  Not it.  Her.

It seemed right that the sun itself would feel so much like the pony who guided it for centuries.

“I will do you proud,” she whispered.  “I’ll earn the trust you placed in me.”

Philomena crooned proudly at her hooves.  If Oak Chips heard her, he said nothing.


*   *   *   *   *


“Now is the time to dismount, princess.”  Oak’s voice broke Sunset from her concentration.  She looked up.  The sun was almost set, and the mountain was nearly upon them.  On the other side of the Canterhorn, she could see the distant trappings of civilization; far off buildings and streets, just starting to show the signs of evening as the street lamps twinkled in the fading light. 

With a start, Sunset checked the state of the sun.  It wasn’t almost set, it was waiting, perched and ready for her command.  If she willed it, it would sit still in the sky, always at the ready and never quite setting.

So much power…

Sunset’s chest heaved, moving quickly in and out in time with her heavy breaths.  If she’d had all this earlier, if she’d felt this before…

Before.

Before the portal.  Before the crown.  Before the pit and her fall.

The cold she felt then was deeper than any frost the wind could bring.  She let out a hateful little shudder, then lit her horn, reaching out and pulling at that terrifying, exhilarating weight.  The light faded as the sun sunk beyond the horizon in the west, until it was nothing more than a warm glow of memory, waiting for the next morning’s sunrise.

“I get it now, Princess.  I’m sorry.”

At least she’d had a chance to reconcile with Celestia before the end.  And now…

She felt the call of the Path.  It would always be there now, just like the sun itself.

In the light of Sunset’s horn she packed away the book and the cloak, before spreading her wings.  They were a little stiff, but she flapped them a few times until she was confident she could fly alongside her guards.  Then, she dropped her shield, immediately flinching as she was suddenly buffeted by the wind.

With her wings spread it was hard enough to jerk Sunset off of Oak’s back and into the air.  He spun his head around in alarm, only to smirk at Sunset’s embarrassed look as she beat her wings to make her own lift.

“Hey,’ she scowled.  “I haven’t had these wings long.  I’m not gonna be super graceful right away, okay?”

“I didn’t say anything, princess.” Oak said.  “Now, let’s…”

“Sir!” one of the other guards, a pegasus mare whose name Sunset hadn’t had time to learn, pointed.  Everycreature turned and looked, and with a snap of their wings, the guards moved in a tight circle around Sunset, pulling spears from sheaths.  Oak Chips took point position, in the front and slightly to the side so Sunset could still see what was happening.

Another dragon was approaching fast.  And this one was massive.  Easily larger than any dragon Sunset had ever seen, outside of books.

“Who approaches?” the dragon roared.  In the dim light Sunset could see orange scales and a purple row of spikes.  “I don’t recognize you, fledgling.”

Sunset stared.  She hadn’t expected to find a real dragon.

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” Oak’s voice was confident but respectful.  “I am a changeling. I didn’t mean to insult you by taking draconic form.  We are the honor guard for Princess Sunset Shimmer, come seeking the joined forces of the Empire here so that she can assume command.  Who are you?”

“I’m called Smolder.”

Oak’s voice didn’t change, but Sunset Shimmer saw his spine stiffen at the name.  She would have to ask him about it later.  “Very well, Smolder.  Can you please escort us to Heartwing?”

“Never heard of a Sunset Shimmer,” the dragon said, though she pulled up short, hovering in the air as the guards raised shields, as if preparing for the worst.  “And Heartwing is gone.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of you,” Sunset called back.  Something about the dragon’s rudeness rubbed her fur the wrong way.  Sure, the massive creature could probably swallow her without even noticing, but she was Sunset Shimmer.  “And we’re wasting time.  Maybe you haven’t heard of me, but I’m sure you’re smart enough to know what an alicorn is.”

Probably not the best plan to insult the dragon, but Sunset was a little peeved.  But to her surprise, the dragon laughed; a big, booming belly laugh.

“Oh, I like you, little princess.  An alicorn with a spine.  Very fun.  Follow me, I’ll escort you lot in and announce you.  The camp’s pretty tense right now, so it’ll help you not get fired on.”  Without waiting for their decision, Smolder turned and began flying down towards the mountain.

Sunset shared a long look with Oak, who finally nodded carefully.  Her assorted pegasi and changeling guards kept tight around her as they spiraled downwards towards the grey ruin stuck to the side of the Canterhorn.

“It’s been quiet since the attack,” Smolder said.  “We’ve been lucky.”  She sounded bitter. 

“How bad was it?” Sunset called out loud enough so their escort could hear. 

Smolder snorted.  “An alicorn was murdered, Sunset Shimmer.  And I was too late to stop it. How bad do you think it was?”

Sunset flinched.  She remembered the look in Cadance’s eyes, before she left.  She wished she’d had more time to comfort the haggard mare before she’d had to leave, but the camp here needed her guidance and direction.

“What’s left?  Who’s in command?  Why is Heartwing gone?”

“Heartwing and the other Elements went to go hunt for Rarity.  She got taken in the raid that killed the Princess.”  Smolder said with a sort of bluntness.  Sunset kept a cold mask on her face, even while her heart pounded.  Rarity captured?  Heartwing gone?

“And then, I arrived with Sir Cobalt, Heartwing’s second in command.  He was wounded in a skirmish before we arrived,” Smolder continued.  “He’s been doing his best to issue orders from his bed, but most of the operation of your forces has been left to me, the quartermaster Colibri, and the chief medic Life Flight.”

“I thought Sir Heartwing had some of his own Knights with him.  Military personnel, too.  Why are those two leading with you?”

“Most of the Knights who could move mustered with Lady Snowfall Shiver to go try and find Sir Heartwing.  His departure was… abrupt.  Wild magic, some new kind of teleportation was involved.  Even the ponies who saw it don’t know exactly what happened.”

Sunset took this in for a moment. “The ones in charge. They’re competent?” Sunset asked.

Smolder nodded.  “You’ll meet them and judge for yourself soon enough.”

They followed the dragon down towards the top of the peak, where a familiar looking city still clung to the side.  It was a little different seeing it from the air, though Sunset had taken flying chariot rides with Princess Celestia before.  In the darkness, she could see a few lights down in the courtyard of the palace below.

The crumbling, broken spires of her old home tugged at Sunset’s heart.  In her mind, it had only been a few short years.  Here, it had been over a thousand.  The old city didn’t bear the age well at all. 

The palace itself, at least, was in good repair, though nothing like Sunset remembered.  The beautiful gardens of the past had been replaced with a complex of smaller buildings.  From this distance, Sunset could see a hundred or so soldiers; ponies and other creatures moving about the complex, patrolling, drilling, moving supplies.

There was a blank spot in the middle of one of the fields, with a large circle burned into the grass.  Sunset could see a number of craters in the field; remnants of some kind of artillery.  “That’s our makeshift landing zone,” Smolder called out. 

It was a relief to be standing on the ground again.  Sunset resisted the urge to flop down where she landed.  Several ponies were already moving towards them; armed soldiers, a few wounded Knights in yellow armor, as well as three ponies dressed in medic white.

“New arrivals, Miss Flight.  They’re from the Empire.”

The head medic was a pegasus, with a white mane and yellow fur.  She blinked in shock a few times at Sunset, taking in the wings and the horn, before managing to hide it behind a professional expression.

“I can see that,” the pegasus medic said.  “Wounded?”

“No, I’m fine,” Sunset said, ignoring the muscle aches in her wings.  “I just need to talk to the griffon and ponies in charge.  As soon as possible.”

“I suppose I count as one of those,” Life said with a flinch.  “C’mon, I’ll take you to the tent.”

“I will resume my watch,” Smolder said.  “Call on me if you need me, Shimmer.  And keep me informed of your plans. I’ll be here.”

Sunset nodded gratefully as the dragon took to the skies.  Beside her, Oak Chips flashed with green fire, replaced by the much smaller form of a changeling.  He took his place by her side, and the other guards formed a loose circle around her.

“Look at them,” one of the pegasi whispered, her voice raw with sympathy and pain.  “I can’t imagine…”

“Focus on the job, Kinderarzt,” Oak barked out, and the pegasi in question snapped to attention, focusing her eyes ahead of them.  Sunset sympathized, though.  All around them were people who looked hopeless, dejected, broken.

Defeated.

This was why she was here.

“Everybody,” she began loudly.  Her guards stopped, looking at her curiously. Very few heads poked up; some looked curious, while most were simply weary.

She had no idea what she was going to say next.  But she lit her horn, feeling the tingle in her throat as the projection spell took hold.

“Everybody,” she said again.  “I know that you’re all hurting.”  It felt like a weak start, but more faces lifted up.  More eyes.  Eyes full of fear, of worry, of cold and hunger and sorrow.  “I can’t imagine how much.  You loved Princess Flurry.  And I know she loved you.”

She felt the call of the Path, the threads of eternity, tickling at the back of her soul.

“Princess Flurry has passed.  And the world is lessened by her loss.  We mourn her.  I have come having spoken with the Empress, and I can assure you personally…” her voice hitched, and she wiped at tears in her eyes.  She cleared her throat.  “I can assure you personally,” she continued, when she could, “that she weeps for your losses, and she weeps for the loss of her daughter.  She cares for you all.  She cries for every one of you that has been hurt, that died, in the service of Harmony.”

Sunset paused, even as more ponies stopped what they were doing to turn her way.

“This ground is sacred, hallowed by the blood that you all have spilled.  History will remember the names of those that fell alongside the Princess.  History will remember their hope and their sacrifice.  And yours.”

She bowed her head, even as she spread her wings.  “Thank you.”

There was silence.  Sunset hadn’t expected much more.

“You may be wondering who I am.  My name is Sunset Shimmer.  And you deserve to know who I am and why I am here.

“I am an alicorn, like the Empress, and Princess Flurry.  Like your Empress, I earned my ascension.  I was a student of Celestia herself, then Twilight Sparkle, and I became an alicorn by pulling myself through time in order to come here, today.  For you.”

It was a heavily edited version of what had happened, and she hated the brevity of it.  But it was what they needed to know now. 

“You may be wondering who will assume Princess Flurry’s duties.  I have taken command of the sun.  Empress Cadance now commands the moon, as she is no longer required to maintain the shield that once bound you all to the Empire.  And I have also come to assume command of the imperial forces here.  I do so at Empress Cadance’s orders.

“I know that you’re in pain.  I will not ask more of you than you can give.  All I can say is this; please continue to fulfill your duties with the same excellence, the same faithfulness, that you showed Princess Flurry.  Our purpose here has not changed, and we will honor her sacrifice by finishing the job we came here to do.”

There were a few nods from the watching ponies.

“Thank you.  Please save your energy for now, because I sense difficult times ahead.  I know you’ll be excellent.”

Sunset bowed again.  She felt like she was a fraud, or an actor.  She’d barely gotten her wings; they still didn’t quite feel real.  Subconsciously she fluttered them a little.

“Thank you for all you do.  The Empire loves you, and the Empire needs you.”

She nodded, and turned back towards the medic, Life Flight.  She was waiting patiently, and as Sunset turned her way she bowed.

“This way, Princess,” she said.  Somehow, the medic sounded much less tired than she had a moment ago.  There was more life in her eyes, at least.

The tent was constructed right outside of a two-story building, with wide-open doors.  Ponies were moving back and forth between the building and the tent; mostly white-armored and white robed Knights.

Sunset recognized the armor.  Knight Radiant.  She pulled up short, and her guard tightened around her.

“Princess, wait,” Life Flight said.  “Everything is fine.  They’re… they’re not here to do harm.”

“Explain,” Sunset said.  She felt anger growing in her.  It was unusual; ever since she’d woken up, everything was enhanced.  Her anger, her joy, her passion… it all seemed to blaze forth with the intensity of the sun.

Cadance had warned her, in their brief time together.

To be an alicorn is to be exposed.  Like a nerve, without the protective layer of flesh and fur.  Everything is stronger.  Every emotion, every sensation.  It has been so long for me that I may have forgotten what it felt like before, but I remember getting lost in the intensity of it all.  Hold on to your control, Sunset.  You know what happens when an alicorn lets go.

Sunset knew about Nightmare Moon.  And she already knew how much of a disaster she was when she was lost in her own emotion, ambition, and drive.

But even knowing all that, it was still a struggle to shove aside the rage she felt towards the white-armored ponies here.

“The Knights Radiant have chosen to be neutral in the conflict, and offer their healing to everypony,” Life said.  Her voice held admiration, and Sunset stared at her.  Was she really that naïve?  “Not only that, but they’ve reformed the Knights Angelic. Together they asked Princess Flurry and Sir Heartwing for permission to be here, to heal the wounded of both sides.  So far they’ve kept to their word.”

Sunset had no idea who the Knights Angelic were supposed to be, but she nodded anyways. “They are not a threat?”

“I… have friends among them,” Life admitted.  “From before I defected, highness.  I don’t know about trusting the organizations, but I trust the individuals.”

Sunset stared at the mare for several seconds.  She remembered the way Celestia had always seemed to be able to read a pony’s entire history in a single penetrating glance.  She’d always been able to read Sunset, at least.  But there was no supernatural knowledge, no secret alicorn wi-fi link-up to a cloud of information about everypony in the world.

Just her own instincts.  And years of experience under first Celestia, then Twilight.  That, and a high schooler’s instinctual navigation of social circles, cliques, and personalities.

She made an impulse decision.

“They can stay,” she said, and saw every muscle in Life Flight’s body relax.  “I’ll honor Princess Flurry’s decision to allow them here, as long as they keep their end of the deal.  I’ll need to talk to one of their leaders, though.”

“That would be Lady Ambrosia of the Radiant.  And either Sir Feather or Sir Dustoff of the Angelic,” Life said.  “I can take you to them if you like.”

“After I talk to Sir Cobalt.”  There was an order to these things.  One problem at a time, and she needed to know the tactical situation first.  She felt like she was floundering, centuries behind everypony else as events careened out of her control.

“Of course, highness.”

Sunset nodded regally, trying to mimic the expression of cool collectedness that she’d seen on Celestia a thousand times.  Like a rock in the ocean, weathering a thousand waves beating against it, and remaining strong. 

Was this always what you were like inside, Celestia? She thought silently.  Totally lost, and just presenting a strong face to the world?

Celestia, of course, was silent.  But she felt the warmth of the evening sun on her face.

It was enough.  She stepped inside the tent.

For some reason, Sunset had expected it to be loud.  There was a low hum of activity as Radiants and other healers moved around, a few cries of discomfort or quiet murmurs, but there was little chaos.  There was something both peaceful and somber about the room, a sort of reverence that helped to calm the roil in Sunset’s heart.

“How was Sir Cobalt wounded?” Sunset asked as they wove between the rows of bandaged, resting soldiers and Knights.

“Sir Cobalt had taken most of the aerial Discordant forces to the heartlands of Equestria to fight a guerrilla war and draw Adamant eyes that way,” Life explained.  “They met up with the d-dragons there, and followed them to the mountain.  I heard on the way they encountered a squadron of Adamant warships and scuttled them.  Sir Cobalt took some bullets in that fight.  I heard  that Smolder personally flew him back.”  There was wonder in Life’s voice as she spoke, and more than a little fear.

“I see.”  Her memory went back to another conflict, another war, another set of wounded.  The names and images of her failed rebellion, centuries ago, still filled her mind.  She forced herself to look at the faces of each of the wounded as she passed.

This is the burden of rule.  This is what Celestia had tried to teach her, before she threw it away and fled.

This is the mantle she’d wanted to take before she was ready.

“Thank you, Celestia.  For holding me back.  And then letting me grow.”

It was a whisper, barely voiced, and her guard said nothing, though she saw Oak’s ears twitch.

Cobalt was sitting up in bed when Sunset and her guards arrived. His black feathers made the white bandages that covered much of his body stand out in sharp contrast. He was deep in conversation with a blue-green pegasus mare wearing civilian clothing.  The mare looked up as Sunset approached, her eyes widening.  Cobalt’s beak flew open.

The pegasus bowed.

“P-princess?” she asked, the question obvious in her tone.

“This is Princess Sunset Shimmer,” Life introduced.  “Here to take command, after…” she clenched her eyes shut.

“After Princess Flurry’s passing,” Cobalt said.  “Yes.  Heartwing informed us of your ascension by letter, highness.  We were not sure if you would be joining us.  I understand you were in a coma when he left.”

“I practically died on my way here,” Sunset said.  “I barely survived my own ascension.  It should have been much easier, but the journey was… trying, to say the least.  Certainly more so than Cadance or Twilight’s.”  She watched the griffon carefully, hoping there would be a seamless transfer of power.  There was always a chance that he would be the type to jealously guard his control.

“We are glad for your presence, highness,” Cobalt said with an awkward bow, and something taut inside Sunset relaxed.  “How up to date are you on our situation here?”

“Not nearly enough,” Sunset said.  “Get me up to speed.”


*   *   *   *   *


Sunset’s head swam.

She’d thought that Princess Flurry’s death was the biggest issue she would have to deal with.  A morale problem, stemming from the death of an immortal.

A near-insurmountable challenge, but one she was willing to approach.

But there was so much more.  Rarity’s kidnapping.  The disappearance of the Elements of Harmony.  Lady Snowfall taking most of their forces into the city itself in an attempt to find the Elements, to find Rarity, and bring them to safety.

On top of that, Cobalt had left most of his forces to continue creating a distraction in the Diarchy’s breadbasket.  So besides the dragons that Smolder had brought, there were very few soldiers here for Sunset to draw upon.  And what resources she did have were wounded and weary.

Throughout Cobalt’s recitation, Philomena was a constant presence, resting gently on her shoulder.  It helped to ground her in the moment; the gentle weight of the bird felt like Celestia was there at her side, watching.

Approving.

Always.

The Path reached for her.  She ignored the call; there was too much to do right now for her to commune with eternity.

“The situation is not ideal,” she said, and Cobalt gave a grim scoff at her understatement.  “Any resources you haven’t mentioned?”

“Every ally we could draw on is miles away,” Cobalt admitted.  “King Grover and his forces have massed at the griffon border and are making a lot of noise, but not getting very far.  The zebras have taken an entire Equestrian settlement and claimed it as their own to the east, some little town called Sweethaven on the Hudcolt river, over by the ruins of Manehattan, but they look like they’re digging in for a long-term occupation rather than a mobile conquest.  They’re still good distractions, and they drew good chunks of the armed forces out to the edges of Equestria so we don’t have Adamants raining down death on us, but they’re probably reassessing and realigning their forces to deal with us very soon.”

“So we comfort ourselves with the philosophical support from our allies, even as they are busy with their own problems?” Sunset asked sardonically, and Cobalt nodded.  “Right.  Well, it’ll be an issue for tomorrow, when today’s problems are solved.  But we’re gonna find a way to help them, too.”

If only today’s problems were so easy.

“Very well.  If you had to give me a number, Sir Cobalt, how many able-bodied Knights do you think we have available?”

“Able-bodied is the trick, isn’t it?” Cobalt frowned.  “Everypony who’s left here is wounded.  Snow took just about everyone with her who wasn’t.  We’re relying on the dragons to keep us safe from attack while Snow finds the Elements.”

More bad news.  She remembered the first time she’d seen Knights in action.  She remembered how hopeless she’d felt as her unicorns and their allies were mowed down by the earliest incarnation.  Having a force of those at her command would have been nice, but this Lady Snow had moved before she could arrive and take command.

Another problem for tomorrow.

“What about material supplies?  Weapons, armor, food.  Whatever makes your rune gauntlets work?”

“Batteries,” Life offered helpfully.  “They’re running low.”

“Food supplies are fine.”  The quartermaster, Colibri, chimed in.  “Weapons as well.  We have an entire stash of unpainted Knight armor; this is where the young knights come to finish their training, after all.  We can put that to good use.  Oh!  And there’s one more thing.”

She flinched, pain evident on her muzzle, and glanced away.

“What?” Sunset said sharply.

There was silence for a while.

“Show her,” Cobalt said, suddenly enough that Colibri flinched.  “It’s her responsibility now, with Heartwing gone and Princess Flurry dead.  She needs to know.”

Sunset was curious, but accompanying this came a sense of dread.

“I-I’ve stored them over here, with the rest of the medical supplies,” Colibri said.  “They’re locked up.  I didn’t know what else to do with them.  Heartwing didn’t have time to make a decision.”

“You can cut through the mysterious bullcrap,” Sunset said, slashing the air with a hoof.  “What are you talking about?”

Colibri paled, and ducked her head.  “Um.  This way, Princess.”

The medical supplies weren’t far away.  There were stacks of crates repurposed as shelves and desks, and the supplies were well-organized and sorted.  Colibri reached for a small case, padlocked shut.  She fished a key out of her pockets.

Her hoof was shaking as she opened the case.

“We have a hundred and eight of these,” she said, voice weak as she held it out to Sunset.  Sunset peered into the case.

Row upon row of stoppered glass vials were arranged in slots inside the case.  Inside each was a glittery black potion, the color of velvet.

“What are they?” she asked.

“The potion that creates Knights.  Crafted from…”

“Unicorn horns,” Sunset finished.  “I know.”  She lit her horn.

The spell was an elementary one, an early lesson in magical analysis of artifacts and spells.  Every student of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns could cast it.  And one second was all she needed to confirm the alchemy’s vile source.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Colibri, it was that Sunset needed to see for herself.  One hundred and eight souls.  Ponies that would never get to live, because their destinies had been cut short by cruelty and ignorance.

Sunset felt a blaze of anger again, like a flare of sun-fire.  It would be a simple thing to call down the righteous, cleansing fury of the Sun Herself on this blasphemy and boil it to ash.

And yet.

And yet she needed resources.

And here was a resource, offered on a silver platter.  Or in this case, in a sectioned wooden case.

Sunset closed her eyes, breathing slowly through her nose, exhaling through her mouth.  Three breaths.

In her ear, Philomena crooned.

She opened her eyes and glanced at the phoenix.  Philomena’s expression was sympathetic.  Together, the two of them looked at the damnable potions.

“What would she do, Philomena?  If she were in my hooves?”

Nopony answered the question out loud.  But the rhetorical question was in her head now, turning over and over.

What would Celestia do?

Was it an issue of strength?  Would she have been strong enough to say yes, to use this resource?  To say no, condemn the foul work?  Which option was the coward’s path?

Could she even ask the question?  Had Celestia ever been in a comparable position?

If she did use them, what would she use them for?  A tool was useless without a plan.

Maybe that was the first step.

“Come with me,” she said to her entourage, picking up the case with her magic and closing it.  The latch engaged, but she left the padlock on the makeshift crate table.  Together, the ponies moved back to Cobalt.

“I need your advice.  You have more experience as a military leader than I do.  How can I best help Heartwing and the Elements?  Because this is their battle.  We’re just… just the side story today.”

Cobalt stared at her for a while.

“Heartwing’s presence here was always temporary.  We never came for conquest, or to reclaim this space.  Our objective was always to make an ingress into New Canterlot City, to find the Element of Magic and reunite all the Elements.  To vanquish this unnatural winter with whatever power they have.”

“And then?”

“I don’t know,” Cobalt shrugged, and winced as his bandages shifted.  “You know what background Heartwing came from.  He was never much of a long-term planner.  He tends to rely on impulse and instinct.”

“And of course it usually works out well for him,” Sunset scoffed.

“Not always,” Cobalt warned, his eyes narrowed.  The two stared at each other for a moment. 

“I intend no criticism of the Element of Loyalty,” Sunset said slowly and formally.  Years of human high school had left her tongue sharp, and often sarcastic.  Barely suitable for royalty. And maybe she shouldn’t be mouthing off about one of her most significant subjects.

But Cobalt waved a claw.

“No, you’re probably right, highness,” he said.  “Heartwing has inexplicably good luck, sometimes.  Not always.  And never quite enough, for the number of ponies he’s lost over the years.  But the Discordant should have been wiped out years ago.  And part of that is because of who he is.  Chaos is still in his blood.  Always will be, and it comes with a sort of… grace that seems to keep him safe.”

A smile spread across his beak.  “And I’ll take whatever amount of that luck, that chaotic grace, which happens to trickle down to his followers.”

“Fair,” Sunset said.  “I meant no insult.  Actually, I’m jealous.  I…”

The horrors of her last bout of leadership, and the carnage that it led to, danced gruesomely in her memory.

“I am very jealous,” she whispered.  “He and I have a great deal to talk about.”

“If his luck holds,” Cobalt says.  “He’s not immortal.  I’ve seen him bleed.”

But it was the loyalty and devotion in Cobalt’s voice that convinced Sunset.  This was what she had to do.

“This isn’t my story,” Sunset said.  “I’m not one of the Elements of Harmony.  I’m in the supporting cast, here.”  It seemed appropriate to frame it as a literary, or theatrical metaphor.  Because whatever was happening here, it was a narrative beyond her.  “What we need to do,” she continued, her thoughts going a mile a minute, “is set the stage for the real stars.  Tell me what you know about Heartwing’s departure, and the other Elements.”

“We know very little.  Lady Emberglow, the Element of Honesty, cast an unknown spell that spirited her, and the rest of them, somewhere else.  We presume the city down below, to look for Rarity.  But we couldn’t be sure.  Lady Snowfall tried to trace the spell and said it was some form of teleportation, and her analysis backed up our assumption.  She took as many Knights as she could to sneak into the town, to try and offer support.”

“Sir Heartwing will need time and space to work.  The Mystics have been focused up here, and the Adamant’s forces are focused on the border attacks.  We need to continue to draw their eyes.”

Her mind was full of ideas.  Sunset had always been a planner; she’d always been able to see the big picture.  She prided herself at predicting outcomes and plotting contingencies.  It didn’t always work out for her (a shameful image of her standing next to a statue, holding a sledgehammer in human hands), but she liked being able to see all the puzzle pieces and assemble a larger picture from the images provided.

“If everything had gone to plan,” Sunset continued, half thinking out loud.  “What would Heartwing have been doing right now?”

“Using this place as a staging ground to infiltrate New Canterlot City,” Cobalt said.  “Trying to search for the Element of Magic.  From our correspondence, he assumed the Mystics held it, perhaps in one of their secure vaults.”

“And how was he going to find it?” Sunset asked.

Cobalt shrugged.  “I think his plan was, ‘let Destiny take its course’.”

She snorted.  “Right.  So just wander around until it revealed itself?”

“Harmony would find a way,” Cobalt said.  “I believe that.”

There was a fervency in his response that surprised her.  Sunset wasn’t used to the idea of ponies expressing religious or spiritual beliefs; it hadn’t been a thing when she’d been growing up in Canterlot, or studying under Celestia’s tutelage.

“Okay,” she sighed.  “I don’t think I can understand that.”  It was somewhat anathema to her thinking, in fact.  “But I can trust it.  At least for now.  Which leads us to the practical question.  What can we do to help?”

Again, it was rhetorical.  But everypony nearby seemed to consider.

“Distraction,” Oak Chips said suddenly.  He’d been a completely silent presence for several minutes, but his sudden voice reminded Sunset he was there.  And not only that, but that he had experience as an intelligence agent.  “If you can find a way to keep the attention of the Diarchy off finding him and the other Elements, allowing them the freedom to move?  It will help.”

Sunset was already making plans.

“And tell me about the Radiants and Angelic.  They’re an unknown element here, aren’t they?”

“Don’t count them as a resource,” Cobalt warned.  “But they’re drawing the Diarchy’s attention, for sure.  The Radiant headquarters in New Canterlot City is under siege by the Knights Vigilant, under, I assume, the direction of the Mystics.  I don’t know what they hope to accomplish; the Radiant seem intent on maintaining their neutrality, and this is just drawing their focus from us.  Not that I’m going to complain.”

“What can you tell me about the Knights who lead these neutral ponies?”

“Lady Ambrosia,” Life Flight repeated.  “And the Angelic are lead by two stallions, Feather Bolt and Dustoff.”  She paused.  “I don’t know Ambrosia or Feather.  But Dustoff is an old friend, from before I defected.  I… I think he can be trusted, for what it’s worth.”

Sunset went silent, thinking.

The Diarchy was a formidable force, with many ponies at their command.  But they were fragmented, distracted, and pulled in too many directions.

Their attention being split was an advantage, but one that had to be leveraged.

She made a decision.  She floated the case, glowing with her orange magic, over to Colibri.

“Take care of that.  And meet me in the central courtyard in twenty minutes.”  She turned to Life.  “Take me to see the leader of the Radiants.  I’d like to meet this Lady Ambrosia.”


*   *   *   *   *


The reactions of the Radiants as Sunset and her guard approached the Shrine of the Generous were very different from the reactions of the Discordant and Imperial soldiers.  The Empire had lived with alicorns for centuries, while the Diarchy had not.  There were looks of disgust towards her horn, of course, but more common were the looks of wonder.

Life Flight approached first, pausing in front of the guarded door.  “Presenting Princess Sunset Shimmer, She Who Moves the Sun, the Wizard who Stepped Through Centuries.”

Beside her, Oak let out a little snort of laughter, too low for anypony but Sunset and Philomena to hear.  “She has a real flair for the dramatic,” he noted in a whisper.

But the guards at the door, two Knights Angelic, appeared suitably impressed.  One of them, with a hoof on the hilt of a sheathed sword, approached carefully.

“Just how many of those things are there up north?” he muttered.  More loudly, he kept a steely gaze on Sunset.  “What does the Princess wish of us?”

It was a neutral response, not too respectful, but he kept his voice free of the nervous fear Sunset could see in his eyes.  It was a clear show of discipline, and it left Sunset impressed.

“I need a word with Lady Ambrosia.  I mean no harm.”

“Dustoff,” Life said.  “You can trust her.  She won’t harm Ambrosia.”

Sunset saw a look pass between the two ponies.  Finally Dustoff nodded.  “Tir.  Go tell Lady Ambrosia that she has a visitor.”

The other Angelic saluted, and immediately darted inside the building.

“I apologize for not inviting you inside, majesty,” Dustoff said, his voice awkward around the unfamiliar word. The Diarchy didn’t have royalty, after all.  “But we only have room for the wounded inside.”

“The Princess will be happy to meet your leader out here,” Oak answered for her, as Sunset smiled.  It was a good show of strength to have her guard speak for her.  “And the proper address for a princess is highness, not majesty.”

“My apologies, highness,” Dustoff said with a nod of his head.  Sunset’s respect for the Angelic grew.  “I’m sure Lady Ambrosia will be interested in a conversation.”

“I won’t take much of her time,” Sunset said.  “I only have a single question for her.”

That made Dustoff’s eyes widen nervously, but Sunset said no more.

They only had to wait a few moments before the guard re-emerged, with an elderly pony in tow.  Lady Ambrosia carried herself with dignity despite her age, and there was no fear in her eyes as she looked at Sunset.  The blood spattered on her white robes, probably from the patients she’d been working on, did nothing to detract from her elegance.

“Highness.  Welcome to Old Canterlot,” she said, her voice even.

“You don’t need to welcome me to my own home, Lady Ambrosia,” Sunset said.  She felt the need to try and knock this pony off-balance.  It was a petty sort of thing, a remnant of the power games she used to play in high school, but she did it anyways.  “I was born and raised here, before Celestia took me on as her student.  My name is Sunset Shimmer.”

She made sure to emphasize her name.  She had been told exactly how these Diarchy ponies remembered her.  She’d even laughed, a little bitterly, when she’d heard that she was the new focus of their Nightmare Night celebrations.

It made her wonder what was going through their heads, to be meeting the literal devil of their faith.  The one Knight, Tir, recoiled at the sound of her name.  Dustoff blinked a few times but didn’t react otherwise.

Ambrosia was a stone.

“Of course, Princess Sunset.  But surely this place isn’t quite your home any longer, is it?” she said as she approached.  “You don’t intend to stay, do you?  It would be hazardous for you.  Probably disastrous.”

It wasn’t exactly a threat, but it was certainly unfriendly.

“It has certainly changed for the worse,” Sunset said.  There was a part of her that thrilled at the chance to verbally spar with another.  She couldn’t help but smile.  “Canterlot was always a place of such peace, enlightenment, and harmony.  Celestia, an alicorn just like me, made certain of it.”

Again, the younger of the two Angelic recoiled, but both Dustoff and Ambrosia remained stoic.

“Still, it is pointless to reminisce, though I’m sure I’d be fascinated to perhaps speak with you in the future about the Canterlot of ancient history.  Perhaps I can also share with you what it means to us in these modern times?”

Sunset’s sense of pleasure deepened, despite the circumstances.  She liked this mare.

“Perhaps.  But when we are not in such a moment of crisis.”

“Indeed,” Ambrosia said, and she hung her head.  “Princess, I understand your presence here is probably because of the loss of your fellow monarch.  I am truly sorry.”

The mare’s voice sounded genuine.  It solidified Sunset’s plan in her mind.

“I appreciate that, Lady Ambrosia,” Sunset said.  “And I won’t take much of your time.  I realize you are busy.  The Imperial Crown is grateful for your efforts to heal our wounded people.  You have kept the word you gave to Princess Flurry, and We thank you for it.  Right now, I only have one question for you.”

“Only one?” Ambrosia now showed her surprise.

“Yes, Lady Ambrosia.  I have been informed that your Sisters, as well as your allies the Angelic, are under siege in New Canterlot City.  Tell me; what would they do if somepony broke through the siege?”

Ambrosia blinked, nonplussed.  It wasn’t a question she’d been expecting, clearly.  She took a few moments to regain her composure and think.

“The Radiant and the Angelic do not ask for the Empire’s help in resolving our conflicts,” she said slowly.  “Though the sentiment is appreciated.”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission,” Sunset said, leaning forward.  “I was asking, if it happened, what the ponies inside Diamond Home would do?”

Curiosity and concern filled Ambrosia’s expression.  She clearly had a million questions to ask herself, now.

“My dear friend, Grand Master Fairy Light, leads the forces inside,” Ambrosia said finally.  “If there is a chance to see her, and the rest, to safety, we would…”

She blinked and narrowed her eyes.

“Why?”

“Because I might do it,” Sunset said simply.

“I told you, we don’t need—”

“I don’t care,” Sunset said.  “What would they do?”

“Lady Fairy hoped staying in Diamond Home would be viable.  I don’t think it is.  If somepony broke the siege, I think… I think I could convince her to evacuate them here.”

“Send a message to your Grand Master,” Sunset said.  “Tell her to be ready.”

And with that, she turned and began to walk away, leaving Ambrosia staring, stunned, behind her.


*   *   *   *   *


Colibri was in the center of the courtyard, just as Sunset had asked.  There were several other ponies milling about, curious, concerned, afraid.  Sunset could see their faces.  They burned with a need; a need for hope, for direction, for leadership and for a purpose.

She wasn’t about to give it to them, but hopefully, if she’d read everypony correctly, she’d let them find it themselves.

This was the answer.  This was what Celestia would have done: to put her trust and faith in ponies.  To trust in their goodness, their courage and their spirit.  As the Diarchy leveraged their fear and their hate, Sunset would leverage their bravery and their hope.

Philomena flew up above her, and Sunset smiled.  “I hope I’ll make her proud today,” she said, and Philomena cawed. 

“Care to let us in on the plan, highness?” Oak asked by her side.

Sunset grinned mysteriously.  “Ever heard of democracy?  I’m gonna put my trust in ponies, and see what they do.”

It was a supremely difficult choice  she was going to ask them to make.  But Sunset’s faith was in ponies.

Just like Celestia’s had always been.

Colibri bowed as she approached, the crowd parting so that Sunset and her guard could reach the center of the courtyard.  She held out the case full of potions.  “Highness.  How can we serve?”

She sounded desperate for a plan, for a purpose, as well.

“I intend to offer whatever aid I can to the Elements of Harmony,” Sunset said, her horn flaring as she cast the loudspeaker spell.  “I shall do so by creating the biggest distraction the Diarchy has ever seen.  Sunset Shimmer, their feared and reviled heretic, will descend on their city and break the siege on Diamond Home.  And I will do so alone, if I need to.”

Many of the ponies voiced spontaneous protest to that, including every single member of her guard.  She raised a hoof.

“Please.  Hear me out.  I recognize that it is dangerous, and that you just lost one princess.  I have no intention of dying.  But it is dangerous.  And… and I’m asking for your help.  Not ordering, but asking.”

A cry of ascent went up from the assembled ponies.  It gave her hope.

“But before I formally ask for volunteers to join me, you all need to know something.  When our forces took this palace, we captured something else.  Something tragic.  Colibri, please open the case.”

She did so, gulping.  The rows of potions glittered in the light.

“Set it down on the ground, please.”

Every eye was locked on the potions inside.

“Many of you know what these are.  You know where they come from.  What was sacrificed to create them.  By capturing these one hundred and eight potions from the Diarchy, that’s one hundred and eight new Knights that won’t be born to torment and kill our people.  One hundred and eight fewer Knights to threaten and terrorize our homes.  It is a victory beyond mere numbers.”

She paused.  She could see what they were all thinking.  She’d put the idea in their head, without even saying it.

It was a dark, terrible thing to ask of anypony.  Sunset knew that, more than any of them.  She’d been yanked past the bodies, some still alive, of the unicorns of her own rebellion in Manehatten after their horns had been harvested.  She knew that in some ponies’ minds, she would be borrowing darkness to fight darkness.

It was a burden she was willing to bear.  They could make their choices, and she could accept the consequences.

“No!”

There was a shout from the crowd.  It was a griffon, one of the Discordant forces, dressed in civilian clothing and wearing a heavy blacksmith’s apron.

“No, please, Princess,” he continued, bowing as the crowd parted between them.  Oak shifted, subtlety, in order to be between her and the griffon.  “What you are suggesting… what you are not saying… it’s too much.  It’s too foul.  Those potions are made of the horns of foals.  We can’t fight evil by embracing it!”

“What is your name?” Sunset asked, and the griffon shrunk down a little.  He cleared his throat, though, and stood up again when it was clear there was no anger in her voice.

“Gordon Mountaincrest, highness.  I’m one of the civilians working with Colibri, here. I serve as a blacksmith and a chaplain.  A moral guide, when I can be.”  He pointed a claw as if by accusation at the potions.  “We can’t embrace this cannibalism.”

“She never told anypony to take the potion, Gordon,” Colibri said, softly.  Her gaze kept darting back and forth between Sunset and the case.  “She didn’t even suggest it.”

“But you know that’s what she’s leading up to!” the griffon cried.  “She wants us to… to use these abominations here!  To fight!  To accept the same corruption that all Knights do.  And you know it kills some people who take it, too!”

“Do we have another choice?” one of the other ponies muttered.

It was like a floodgate.  A hundred voices fired to life, ponies arguing and talking.  Sunset sat back, waiting patiently.

“Is this what you meant to happen?” Oak said softly at her side.

She nodded.  “It needs to happen.  We need this.  But they need to decide on their own.”

Oak nodded.  It was hard to tell in his solid, insectoid eyes, but he looked troubled.  Finally he took a step forward.

And he took one of the potions.

The crowd went silent.

Oak hefted the potion into the air, and looked out over the crowd.

“This griffon has reminded you what exactly this is,” he said loudly.  Gordon sat back in the snow, moaning in dismay.  “And the Princess will not ask this of you.  But she won’t stop you, either.”

“Those potions are evil,” Gordon fired back. “Don’t be tempted by the power, because the cost isn’t worth it.”

Oak nodded.  “A sword is also evil, if used to kill.”

“But a sword can be put down!  Knighthood can’t—”

Colibri surged forward, her wings spread.  She reached out for the potion.

“Gordon.  We all know what it’s made of.  But it’s already been brewed.”

“Colibri, you’re going to get yourself—”

“Slate is down there,” she waved with a wing.  “My fiancé followed Lady Snowfall down into the city.  They’re outnumbered, but they’re doing what they can to help Sir Heartwing.  We owe him to do better than sitting on our rumps waiting for another attack to kill us all.”

She took the potion from Oak, and pulled off the stopper.  Gordon lunged forward, as if he could somehow physically stop her.

“Wait!” Sunset commanded, her voice booming.  The Royal Canterlot Voice, she noted with some small amusement.  It was the first time she’d used it, and everybody froze, eyes wide with horror.  “Wait, Gordon.  She’s allowed to make her own choice.”

“But the unicorn who’s horn this is?  They never got to,” he shot back, his gaze furious on hers.

Sunset inclined her head.  “No.  They didn’t.  But is it really honoring the dead to waste this chance to avenge them?  To bring this small bit of justice and meaning to their life?”

“Answering violence with violence, death with death, is not the path of Harmony,” Gordon spat bitterly.

“No,” Colibri said.  “I won’t kill.  Not unless I have to.  B-but I won’t let my Slate die.  I won’t let the Elements die.  I won’t let another Princess die.”

And before anybody could say anything else she downed the potion in a single gulp.

Gordon gasped.  Colibri’s eyes shot wide, and she clenched her stomach with a cry.

But it was Life Flight who caught her.

“Wait, please.  Give her space.  The process is painful, but if anypony is strong enough to survive, it’ll be Colibri.”

Life gently lowered the mare to the ground.  “Somepony go get a tent.  Or cast a warming spell.  A wind shield, maybe.  The cold isn't going to help.”

Colibri was starting to shake.  Nopony was immediately jumping to follow Life Flight’s orders, so Sunset did it herself, casting a wide shield around the gathered ponies, even warming the air inside with a second.  It felt good to be casting again.

“The process is very painful,” Life says, flinching.  “But it’s short, though it seems like forever at the time.”

Oak reached down, pulling another potion from the case.

“I will be next.  Whoever you were, unicorn, I will do you honor.  I will use your life to protect another.”

He raised the potion, as if in toast, to Sunset Shimmer, who nodded with suddenly misty eyes.  And then he drank.

“E-everybody,” he grunted, falling to his knees.  “I-if you take the potion, you m-must keep your motives in mind.  F-fix your mind on your w-why.  Mine is Escher.”

An earth pony stepped up next, wearing an Imperial uniform.

“My… my wife and foals,” he said.  “In the Empire.  I’ve seen so much death.  Too many lost.  I’ll protect life, with this.”  He took his own potion.  “For Rogue, my love.”

“Dusty!” Gordon cried out, but the soldier had already drunk.

A unicorn was next, dressed in a blood-splashed healer’s coat.  “I… I’m tired of staying behind while others fight for me.  I want to heal.  But I want to protect as well.  My friends, my family.  And the Radiants have done so much for our ponies.  We can do this for them.”  He pulled the stopper off his own potion.  “For my sister, Smoky Flare.”

“Morning, you don’t have to—”

Sunset moved forward, placing a wing on Gordon’s back.  He looked up, his eyes full of tears, but there was anger and shock behind them.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“To give them a choice?” Sunset said.  “Yes.  To give the poor souls killed a chance to have some kind of meaning?  Yes.  Gordon, I understand.  I was there when the Knights were first deployed.  I saw the carnage they left in their wake.  I understand.”

“Then why?” he sobbed.

“Because we have an opportunity.  We have a chance to re-direct the course of history today.  And it’s slipping from our hooves.”

“So it’s not really about avenging the dead unicorns?  Or justice?  Just a means to an end, a tool you’re going to use to win?” He sounded bitter.

“It’s all of those things,” Sunset said softly.  “I’ll use whatever I can, if it means I never have to see what I saw in Manehatten again.  Now.  Some of these are your friends?  They made a choice.  And they need your support now, more so than your judgment.”

Gordon stared between her and the writhing ponies on the ground, even as more and more stepped forward to take potions of their own.  Finally he sighed, his eyes clenched shut.

“You don’t know what you’ve done,” he whispered.

“Wrong,” Sunset said.  “I know exactly what I’ve done.”  But Gordon was already moving off to comfort his friends as they struggled and cried out in pain.

“Highness,” one of her guards spoke up.  She glanced at the pegasus.  The mare looked uncomfortable.  “The potion.  It will help us protect you better?”

“Don’t you dare drink for my sake,” Sunset said, but the mare’s face hardened.

“Sorry, highness.  But we will.  We’ll never let another alicorn die.  With your permission?”

And Sunset nodded with a sigh as the mare stepped up and drank.

One after another, all one hundred and eight potions disappeared.  Her entire guard, changelings and pegasi both.  Crystal ponies, Diarchy expatriates, and civilians from Angel’s Rest.

Sunset moved between them all, comforting, encouraging.  There were others watching, too.  Gordon the griffon, gently singing some kind of hymn.  Life Flight, who, Sunset guessed, had already taken the potion in the past.

Life had been right.  It was perhaps only twenty minutes before Colibri, sweaty and out of breath, sat up.  Others began to come to.  Slowly the chorus of agonized cries began to slow.

“Miss Life,” Sunset said, a sudden fear gripping her heart.  “I need to know how many… if any…”

“On it, highness,” Life said.  Sunset watched with worry as she went between each of the ponies and changelings.  As she waited, Oak Chips struggled to his hooves.

“You didn’t have to,” Sunset whispered to him.

“Yes.  I did,” he said back.  “And I’m proud having done so.  We will keep you safe, highness.  My life before yours.”

There was a sudden lump in her throat.  There was a time in her life when she would have felt entitled to this sort of loyalty.  Now…

“I don’t deserve you all,” she whispered.

“If it helps,” Oak said.  “It’s only partially for you.”

“Escher,” Sunset said, and Oak nodded.  “I’ll never forget his name.  Will you tell me about him, later?”

“I promise,” Oak said.

But then Life was approaching, her eyes wide.  Sunset braced herself.

“How many?”

“None, highness,” Life breathed, her voice full of wonder.  “None of them died.  You… it’s a miracle.  A blessing.”

“Maybe so,” she said, glancing over at Gordon.  He was close enough to have heard, and even he looked stunned.  “I’ll take it.  One hundred and eight Knights might be enough to catch their eye, and hopefully give Heartwing the space to do whatever it is he needs to do.”

“Um.  One hundred and nine, please, highness,” Life said softly.  “I retired years ago.  To raise my foals.  But my husband is down in that town.  He followed Lady Snowfall.  And it’s killing me, not knowing whether or not he’s safe.  Like Colibri with her Slate, I need to do what I can to protect my Vex.”

“Do you still have armor?”

“Colibri found dozens of sets.  Maybe even enough for all of us.  Unpainted, though.”

“I think I can fix that.  Find somebody to bring them out for me?  My Knights will need armor.”

It would give them time to recover.

By this point, though, several others were gathering to see what had happened.  Some had even already realized what had happened, and were looking disappointedly towards the now-empty case, and the empty, sometimes broken vials on the cold ground.

Colibri, her voice strained, began issuing orders to the rubberneckers. 

“Witch Storm, A-anteater?  Organize a t-team from these b-bystanders to go f-fetch the armor from the palace.  B-basement storage, third vault on the left.  The vault door’s b-broken.”

The two bystanders saluted.  One of them, a unicorn mare, even gulped.

“Um, yes, Lady Colibri,” she said, and Colibri’s eyes widened.

“Get used to it,” Life said.  “You’re one of us, now.”

Colibri nodded slowly, looking stunned.

Sunset watched it all with a sort of surprise.  She’d expected volunteers.  She hadn’t expected to run out.  With one hoof she rubbed her eyes.

“Ponies.  My ponies.  I am…” she choked back a hitch of emotion.  “I am stunned.  I am proud.  I don’t deserve you.  You…”  She trailed off, unable to speak further.

“It’s not just for you, you know,” Oak Chips said teasingly.  “They want to keep you safe for the Empire.  For their homes, for their families.  You’re just… a convenient symbol of all that.”

“Thank you for deflating my ego, Sir Oak,” she said, and even his eyes widened.  Sunset laughed.  “I might need you to do that from time to time.”

“Well, I just might,” Oak said.  “I’ll warn you.  If I am going to be your guard, I’ll need to be able to ignore your orders on occasion.  I’ll keep you safe, regardless of what you say.  I won’t let you go off on your own.”  He paused.  “The way that Princess Flurry did.”

“As long as you don’t stop me from doing what I need to do today, I won’t object.  Does that make you the Grand Master of my Knights, then?”

“Oh.  Oh, by Chrysalis’ egg, please don’t do this to me.”

“Too late, Sir Oak.  You just volunteered.”

Oak Chips moaned in dismay, while Sunset laughed.

Meanwhile, a dozen or so supply ponies were stacking large crates on the ground by the recovering Knights.  Sunset walked over to one of them, wrenching off the lid with a surge of her magic.  Inside was a polished steel set of fresh Knight armor, including a rune gauntlet.

“Shiny,” Oak noted as he looked over the rim.

“Maybe,” Sunset said, curling her nose at it.  “But boring.  I can do better.  Especially if I’m going to try and out-shine whatever Heartwing and Rarity are up to in New Canterlot City.  We’re going to need to be beyond fabulous to draw their attention.  We’re going to need to be… resplendent.”

She lit her horn, splashing the armor with her magic.  The metal shifted in color, changing from bright steel to a glossy orange, the same as her coat. 

“Not good enough,” Sunset hummed, as she stared at the orange metal.  Her horn flashed again, and the color changed; now it was a gradient, a slow fade from pinkish-orange to a deep red.

A true sunset.  And to complete it, she summoned an image of Celestia’s cutie mark for the flank.

“No, Princess.  Not the mark of a pony we don’t know,” Oak said gently.  “Yours.”

Sunset had wanted to avoid that.

“You can have her symbol on your own armor, but we…” and he glanced around, as if collecting agreement, “...we will be following you into battle, not Princess Celestia.”

“Very well.  What about a name for us all?”

“You already said it,” Oak noted.  “The Knights Resplendent.”

“I’m glad the Grand Master approves,” Sunset said.  “Put on your armor, Sir Oak, and get ready to lead your Knights Resplendent into Tartarus.”

“We’ll be with you, Highness.”

 
> Chapter 67
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 67


Letter sent via special courier, from Knight Hospitaller Puddle Jumper, Radiant, to Grand Master Steadfast Word, Mystic

Sir Steadfast,

My hoof is trembling as I write this, and it’s really hard to make the words come out and onto the page.

Lady Fairy Light wants us all to reach out to friends and family.  She believes that maintaining our connections - even across ideological lines - will be really, really important for any sort of permanent peace.

I believe her, so I’m writing this letter.

I don’t know if she intended for me to write to you so much, given all the accusations that’ve been made about what you’ve been doing these last few years.

I don’t want to believe them. The Sir Steadfast I remember never would’ve committed murder to get further up the ladder; I remember a brave and good Knight, lifting up a young, ditzy squire who wasn’t sure if she would even make it as a Knight.  I remember the day I was assigned to you, and your fatherly smile washed away my fear like the tide.  I remember your patience with me as you listened to my worries, all the while being terrified that you would think I was being goofy and silly, or that you’d think I wasn’t up to the task.

I remember that you gifted me my first plushie; Sir Lloyd Llamountain, Esquire who was brave and perfect for fending off my nightmares.

You were the perfect mentor for me; you were exactly what I needed at the time, and you have been a comfort and a cherished friend for a long time.

And that is why I’m writing to you now.

I want so badly to reach out to that part of you that was kind to this young squire, who wouldn’t have made it through even her basic training without your help.

They say you’ve done terrible things, but I absolutely cannot and WILL not believe you are beyond help.  You are a good pony who has been led astray by the same weird and scary stuff that everypony else in the Capital seems to be dealing with right now.

This IS something you can come back from.  Please try.

The hooves of us Radiants are open to you - we can try together to make this right.  And maybe that’s all it would take to have some form of peace between all of us again.  Lady Fairy Light’s vision for a collective Knighthood at peace with itself could begin with one single, simple act.

You once told me I was really brave to seek you out for help with my insecurities and nightmares.  I was brave and wise enough to know I needed help.  Now, I’m begging you to be brave and wise.

Please bring back the Steadfast Word I remember.  Bring back the brave and kind knight who once gave a young squire a small stuffed llama in a gift-wrapped box that changed her entire life.

I’ll be waiting to hear back from you, and hoping you take my plea to heart.

Always Your Friend,

Jumpy

New Canterlot City, 1113 AF

Steadfast Word held the legacy of his time as a mentor in his hooves.

He’d read the letter a hundred times in the night.  It was better than sleeping.

He couldn’t sleep any longer.  Nights were just one long nightmare, the screaming voices of the cold wind creeping into his ears and invading all of his thoughts.

There was only so much that adrenaline spells and copious amounts of coffee could do.  But he couldn’t rest now; he had other matters to attend to. 

Steadfast was at his desk.  His bed was unused.  No breakfast was coming; he had dismissed everypony from the Star Shine building who wasn’t a Knight.

There were so few he could trust.  Even his own Knights were suspect.

His desk was a mess of papers and reports.  Disorganization was the theme of the last several hours; letters and telegraphs, statistics and military dispatches, all mixed to create a pile of disharmony that filled him with unease.

It had made so much sense for him to keep his council, to wall off the Mystics from the others until he could determine the best path forward.  What he hadn’t expected is that the various Grand Masters would begin to go their own way.

Lady Proud Stone, without his say-so, had laid siege to Diamond Home.

crush her skull between your hooves

her blood on your fur on your muzzle on your

make her hurt make her squeal

He clutched the letter to his chest.  It seemed to drive the voices from the Machine away; at the least it dulled them to a quiet, indiscernible hum.

Three times in Steadfast’s life, he’d been privileged enough to mentor a squire.  He’d sponsored several other ponies, including Emberglow.

Mentorship was one of the most wonderful and fulfilling duties he’d ever been blessed with.  Helping to shape a young mind, to guide and grow a pony into a Knight, had always seemed both worthwhile and uncomplicated.  Of course, it also didn’t hurt that usually a pony he’d mentored grew up to be loyal to his ideas and views for a united, uncorrupt Knighthood.

Jumpy certainly had. She'd possessed such a pure and naïve approach to life.

Of course he’d used her just like he’d used every other tool in his arsenal.  But some ponies were like Brightblade, able to take on any job, no matter how dirty.  Others, like Jumpy, had to be handled carefully, only being useful for certain roles.

But ponies were not just tools.  And there was certainly a reason behind why he had followed this course.  Peace.  Victory.  Freedom from corrupt inertia.

A Diarchy triumphant rather than stagnant.

“I’m doing this for you,” he whispered to the letter.  For ponies like Jumpy, and thousands of others.  Even if it cost him his own soul.

But everypony was conspiring to throw up roadblocks for him.  Everypony who’d stood in his way, who’d had to die so he could take command.  Lady Fairy and her asinine defection.  Sir Heartwing and his meaningless invasion.  And now Lady Proud Stone and her hasty action.

He’d already laid plans in place to take care of Lady Fairy, plans which had been unraveled by Proud’s ridiculous siege.  Now the Radiants were on high alert, and the infant Angelic were on guard, making ingress by his agents nearly impossible.

And the voices from the Machine were howling for blood.  Proud’s blood, Fairy’s blood, Jumpy’s blood, Emberglow’s blood.

bring her home make her pay

betrayed you like they always do

not yours never yours not your blood

He clutched the letter to his chest again, breathing through his nose until the voices subsided.

Around him, his silent room seemed to close in, the walls narrowing.  His lungs burned with the need for fresh air, no matter how cold.  With determination he stood, shoving the letter into the pocket of his robes.

He hadn’t changed since yesterday.  His mane was a mess, and he probably had dark rings around his eyes.  He didn’t care.  He was sure that he wasn’t the only pony not getting much sleep these last few days.  He hoped Lady Fairy was one of them.

Damn that mare for causing all of this.

He moved to the door and pulled it open, causing the two purple-armored guards outside to jerk to attention, eyes startled.

“Sir?” a mare asked.  “Is there anything you need?”

“I’m going out.”

“Very well, sir, we can be ready with an entourage in a few moments.”

“Alone.”

There was visible discomfort on the two guards’ faces at that, but neither one was stupid enough to argue with him.

“Did you at least eat something today, sir?” one of them asked, and Steadfast looked up sharply.  There was concern in the young Mystic’s eyes.  “We’re worried about you.”

“Don’t be,” Steadfast spun, marching away.  “Don’t let anypony into my quarters while I’m gone.”

He wasn’t sure why he felt he needed to say it.

“Sir, wait!” one of the guards braved.  “If you’re going outside, you should at least take a cloak.  It’s really cold outside.”

He studied the guard’s face intently.  There was a time, when he hadn’t been as highly ranked, that he’d known the names of everypony he worked with.  Now that he was responsible for an entire Order, that was no longer possible.  He hated it; it lacked the personal touch.

“What is your name, Knight?” he said, and the guard recoiled at his tone.

“Liminal Space, sir.”

betray you some day

freeze him at the root

closed doors, locked doors, bolted doors

“I’ve changed my mind, Liminal,” he said.  “I’m going to shower.  Have a staff member bring breakfast up.  Nothing heavy, fruit or something.  And send a messenger to each of the Grand Masters.  I need to speak to all of them.”

The days when he could simply go on a morning walk to clear his head were gone.  He needed to accept that.

“Sir, even… Lady Fairy?”

Steadfast had to shove down a wave of rage that flowed over him.  “No,” he said through grit teeth, and the Knights both recoiled.  “Not her.  The others.”

It was a struggle not to add some sort of insult or invective.  Dear Saint Twilight, were they letting idiots into his order?

“I’ll be done in ten minutes.  I’ll expect the other grand masters in forty.  And I do plan on going out, Liminal.  So that cloak would be welcome, for afterwards.”

It was a thoughtful gesture, even if the Knight was a bit of an idiot.

Steadfast went back into his room, where he would once again be alone with his ever-present company.  The rational part of his mind said it was a good thing.  He needed to project stability, strength, and leadership.

He needed to be steadfast.

But the other part of his mind, the one that always listened, hoping to glean whatever wisdom he could from the insanity that now flowed like a constant gale around him?

That part demanded that he take advice from nopony.

“The fool walks her path alone,” he intoned, quoting from the very first chapter of the Book.  “So I shall surround myself with those who have the strength to do what is right.”

Saint Twilight’s words were little comfort in his empty, disorganized room, with his vacant, unmade bed and his chaotic desk.

Everything was chaos now.

A hot shower brought little comfort, so Steadfast didn’t linger.  It had been a couple of days, though, so it was necessary.  He took just long enough to straighten his mane and tail before digging through his drawers for clean robes.

His breakfast waited for him on his desk; sliced fruit and whole wheat toast, just like he’d asked.

Steadfast ate quickly, never quite tasting the oranges and apples and bread.

It was all cardboard.

When he once again exited his suite, the same two guards were there, though Liminal Space waited with a cloak draped over his hoof.  He silently held it out to Steadfast.

“Thank you.  I assume the other Grand Masters have gathered?”

“I sent the messages, sir.  We’ve prepared Audience Room Zeta for your meeting.”

Steadfast paused.

“Your idea?”

Liminal nodded, and Steadfast gave a grim smile of approval.  Perhaps there was hope for this young Mystic yet.

“Well done.  Thank you.”

He swept the cloak, a slightly darker lavender than his robes, over his shoulders.  The two Knights fell into step behind him as he marched down the hallway.

The mood at the Star Shine building was both quiet and rushed.  Ponies moved about with a sort of frantic energy, silent with dread.  There were hoofprints everywhere; everypony was tracking in snow, unused to this much snowfall outside.

He’d probably have to do something about that.

So many minor problems.

There was a silvery vein to all of it, however.  As he passed, ponies looked at him.  There was fear there, of course.  But also there was hope and determination.

cannot trust any

expel them all into the snow

creeping, growing, consuming

He ignored the voices again.  These were his ponies.  Perhaps he couldn’t trust them entirely, but he could trust them enough.  The Knights Mystic were the hope of Equestria, and they would follow in his lead.  The devotion and faith he saw in their eyes was enough to reassure him of that.

The door outside Audience Room Zeta was already guarded when he approached, but not only by his own Knights.  In addition, there were two Knights Adamant there.  Each one was decorated with the mark of the Wonderbolts on their crinieres, the etched lightning bolt marking each one as an expert at both combat magic and close-range fighting.  Surprisingly, both were earth ponies, even though most who made it to those elite ranks were pegasi. 

“I’m going to assume from your presence that Grand Master North Wind is inside?”

“The General is waiting for you, sir,” said the Wonderbolt mare, a scarred but proud looking pony with a gray coat and a shockingly red mane.

“And he felt the need to bring guards into a safe place like this?”  He tried to keep his voice even, but a bit of acid crept in.  To her credit, the Wonderbolt didn’t flinch. 

“He did, sir.  We’re not sure any place is safe, right now.”

There was a wisdom in those words that Steadfast couldn’t deny.  But their very presence was a challenge to his authority that he couldn’t let pass.

“And were you instructed to deny me entry?”  Now he did let the menace creep into his voice.  It was enough that the two Mystics behind him stiffened a little, crouching slightly in readiness.  The other Wonderbolt, younger and less scarred, actually twitched a hoof, as if about to reach for a sheathed blade at his side.

paint the walls with their blood

inside out, upside down

so hungry

“We were not, sir,” the first Wonderbolt said, a touch of worry in her voice.  “But with what happened at the last meeting of the Grand Masters, the General ordered us to be on guard for anything.”  She saluted him.  “We’re here to keep you safe too, sir.  You lead the Knighthood, and we need you.”

It was the same kind of devotion he’d seen in some of his own Knights.  The voices screamed at him not to trust her.

But this was what he was fighting for.  This was what he had wanted all along.  Cooperation between the Orders.  No infighting, no division.  Unity of purpose, unity of vision, unity of command.

“Thank you, Lady…”

“Blitzkrieg, sir.  We’ll keep the room safe from intruders.”

“I’m glad to have Wonderbolts here,” Steadfast said.  “Sir Liminal, join your fellow Knights in securing the audience room.  Let nopony but the other Grand Masters in, assuming they haven’t arrived yet.”

“They haven’t, sir,” Blitzkrieg said.  “Sir North Wind is the only one here so far.”

That bade poorly.  Steadfast had hoped to be the last to arrive.

“Thank you.  Keep the room private, please.  Sir Liminal here can give you directions if we have any other needs which might need addressing.”

He may have been happy at the Adamant’s presence and their loyalty, but they needed to be under the command of Mystics.  As the Knighthood was designed to be.

The Adamants nodded, and Steadfast stepped inside the Audience room.

As expected, North Wind was the only one in the room.  He sat on the right-hoof side of the long conference table.  The chair at the head of the table was framed by a large window looking out into the plaza below, now mostly empty and covered in a thick layer of snow.  It would serve as a backdrop to any conversation, sitting behind Steadfast as a constant reminder of the dire situation that faced them all.

“Good morning, my friend,” Steadfast said softly, walking over to the head of the table and taking a seat.  “I’m glad you’re here.”

At the very least, he had the Adamants.  He wondered what was keeping the other two.

“Are you now?” the general replied, his eyes narrowed.

There was a hostility in North Wind’s voice that brought Steadfast up short and made the voices howl.  He took a breath before he spoke.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You don’t seem to care about anything outside of these walls, Steadfast.”  There was a stubborn set to North’s chin, an unwavering gaze that reminded Steadfast why he’d taken a liking to North Wind early on.  “You’ve retreated.  Or so I thought.  And then I heard about your ponies' expedition up the mountain.”

“And it bothers you to hear I’ve made a successful strike against our enemies?”

“No!” North shouted.  “What bothers me, Steadfast, is that when we met, after Fairy Light’s betrayal, you said we needed to have a unified approach.  You told me, and Layer Cake, and Proud Stone, that we were going to approach this threat together.  And then you hid in your headquarters and plotted a unilateral attack on the mountain, without even telling anypony else.  You stood silent as I sent messenger after messenger, asking for an update on our response.  You did nothing while Proud Stone took her knights and moved them into siege positions around Diamond Home.”

North was becoming more agitated as he spoke.

“You did nothing, besides launch this attack you told nopony about.  Do you even know what’s happening in the world?  I’ve lost four forts on the griffon border, three listening stations along the north, and eight outposts bordering the dragon lands are rubble and soot.  A full fifteen colonies or settlements in Zebrica are no longer responding to radio hails, and an entire frontier town has been occupied by zebra Knights within Diarchy territory!”

He was shouting now, and Steadfast’s constant mental companions demanded his blood.  Instead he watched, impassively.

“I’ve got my ponies patrolling the streets, plus every mercenary band and garrisoned unit I could conscript, trying to create some kind of order, as Proud’s Knights seem to have abdicated that duty altogether.  She won’t listen to my messages either.  And Layer just hides in his office, ‘communing with the Saints for further guidance’, although we both know he’s just cowering.”

“Tell me,” Steadfast hissed, breaking the tirade.  “Tell me what you’re really concerned about.”

North stared at him.

Steadfast stared back.

The other pony’s expression seemed to thaw, melting from hostility to exhaustion.

“You don’t trust us,” North said simply.  “And because of it, the unity you want is impossible.”

It was on Steadfast’s tongue to voice a denial.  But there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” he snapped, with more impatience than he thought he had been feeling.

The door cracked open, and Liminal poked his head in.

“A courier came, sir.  A civilian conscript.  Just brought a message from Lady Proud Stone.  She won’t be coming.”

strip her of her flesh

starving, wanting, needing

so little time left

“And why,” Steadfast whispered, tamping down the explosion of temper,  “is she not coming?  And why does she send a civilian to do a Knight’s business?  Open the door, let me see this messenger.”

Liminal nodded, pushing the door open to reveal the pony beyond.  North Wind’s two guards stood at attention, eyeing the wretched thing with a mixture of wariness and pity.

The messenger was in poor shape.  His clothing was barely recognizable as a once-nice suit.  Now, it was tattered, soaked in snowmelt and spotted with blood.  The earth pony’s eye was blackened, and dried blood flecked his chin and lips.  He shivered, not just from cold, as he cowered on the carpet.

Steadfast thought of the letter he carried in the pocket of his robes.

“Can you stand?” he said more calmly.  The pony looked up with terrified eyes.

“Y-y-yes, sir,” he tried, raising on trembling hooves, before nearly toppling over.  One of North’s guards reached out a hoof to catch him.

“Liminal.  Something warm to drink, please.  Maybe some soup.  Come in, pony, sit down.  What is your name?”

Liminal rushed off to follow the orders while Blitzkrieg and the other Wonderbolt helped the poor thing into a chair.

“P-petty Cash, sir.”

“What happened to you?” North said, already casting a spell.  Steadfast recognized medical diagnosis, though the earth pony shied away from North’s gauntlet.  “Relax.  Just trying to assess your injuries, and see if we need to fetch a Ra…” He cleared his throat.  “…a healer.”

“I was… um, it was d-discipline.  Because I didn’t f-follow orders fast enough.”

“Orders from…?” North coaxed, his expression darkening.

“Sir Iron Sights.  Of the V-vigilant.  He’s the Major in charge of the conscript l-legion.”

“Proud is conscripting civilians now?” North said, his voice disgusted, and Petty Cash nodded.

“Y-yeah.  We’re h-helping the fight against the t-traitors in Diamond Home.  Wh-when your summons arrived, I was pulled off the front lines to bring the message.”

“Here, sir.”  The other Mystic guard hoofed over a piece of crumpled paper.  It was hastily scrawled and torn, and Steadfast noticed from the folds that it was probably a repurposed bit of envelope.

Proud Stone didn’t even think he was worthy of a fresh piece of paper.

Steadfast-

Can’t come to your meeting, too busy with a righteous crusade.  Keep me informed. Send help as soon as possible, Saint Applejack demands it.

Steadfast shook with fury, and the messenger saw, cringing back.

“He’s fine,” North said, having finished his examination.  “A black eye, some bruises that will heal eventually.  Nothing life-threatening.  You’re saying your own commander did this to you?”

“At least I wasn’t…” he began, then gulped, his eyes wide, as he slammed his mouth shut.

“At least you weren’t what, pony?” Steadfast demanded, and the pony flinched again.  “What is happening?”

“P-ponies who refuse to serve are sh-shot,” he whimpered.

“What?” North hissed. 

Liminal returned with a tray, complete with a bowl of soup and a mug of something steaming.  He set it down on the conference table.

“Eat.  Rest,” Steadfast said, trying to keep his voice calm.  “Stay here until you regain your strength.  Liminal, get a full debrief of our guest once he feels up to it.”  He looked the trembling pony in the eyes.  “You are safe here.”

“Y-yes, sir,” he said, unbelieving.  The mistrust evident in the expression fired up Steadfast’s rage all over again.  He swept out of the room before he could do something he would regret.

“North, come with me.”

“Aren’t we going to wait for Layer?”

“He’s not coming.”

He wasn’t sure why he was so certain, but he was.  Everything was falling apart.  If Proud Stone could dismiss him with a three sentence note on the back of a piece of garbage, then there was little chance of the coward slinking from his cave.

“Steadfast.  Steadfast!  Wait!”

North Wind caught up with him in the hallway, reaching out with a hoof to pull Steadfast up short.  He was angry.

“What are we going to do?  We need a response to this.  This is not okay.”

North had always been a bit of a gentle soul.

“I need intel, and this pony isn’t in shape to answer questions.”

“So you’re going to send somepony, right?” North said, his voice an accusation.  Steadfast was silent.  “Saints alive, you’re going to go yourself.  Steadfast, what are you thinking?”

“I was going to go see for myself anyway,” he said.  “I need…”

“Horseshit,” North interrupted.  “Whatever reasoning you have, whatever excuse you were about to say, whatever lie you were about to feed me, it’s horseshit.  You don’t trust me.  You don’t trust anypony.”

The two ponies stared at each other silently.  A few paces back, Sir North’s Wonderbolts waited, hesitating but ready to spring to their leader’s defense.  Further back, in the conference room, Liminal watched with worry.

“Let me ask you this,” Steadfast whispered.  “Did you believe her?”

North Wind blinked, confused.  “Her?  What are you talking about?”

“Just tell me this.  Lady Fairy’s accusations.  Did you believe her?”

North Wind was silent, staring at Steadfast with dark, unreadable eyes.

“That’s why I can’t trust you,” he whispered. 

There was another reason, too.  But one Steadfast couldn’t voice out loud.

not the only one

others hear us

others give in

He knew that.  Joy was getting close these days.  They’d promised to look out for each other, and she was holding on by a thread.  She’d never had his strength, but she was making a valiant show of it.

He turned to leave again.

“Wait!” North called after him.  “Steadfast, wait!”

Steadfast didn’t stop.

“Steadfast, that doesn’t matter right now,” North said, galloping up alongside him.  “It’s not relevant.  Not now.  After all this has settled down, yeah, maybe we can have a talk about that.”

Steadfast could hear the mistrust in his voice.  North Wind believed Fairy.  He felt a cold stab of betrayal in his gut.

“But right now we need to prioritize, and we need unity.  Let’s head to see Layer Cake.  Together.  Maybe we can…”

“No.”

North Wind paused, and Steadfast stared at him. 

“No,” he said again.  “We’re not bothering with that coward.  I’m going to go talk to Proud Stone.”

“Saints, Steadfast, you don’t even know what’s happening!  At least let me…”

“No.”

“Steadfast Word!” North finally shouted.  “If you want my help, or my Knights’ help, in the next few days, you stop right now and listen to me!”

The rage flowed up his spine like ice water, but Steadfast stopped, turning his gaze on his fellow Grand Master.

kill

kill

kill

“Say your piece,” Steadfast hissed, barely restraining himself.

But something in his eyes nonetheless showed malice.  The two Wonderbolts moved forward, flanking their leader. 

Just a moment ago one of them, Blitzkrieg, had declared her loyalty to him.  Now she and her companion faced him down, ready to die to defend their master. 

And die they would, as soon as…

Steadfast shook his head sharply.  North was starting to speak.

“I need to know what’s happening.  I need a clear picture.  And I don’t just mean out there.  I mean in your head, Steadfast.  This is the worst possible time for all of us to be falling apart.  I’m begging you, Steadfast.  What we need right now is leadership.  Give me something, some plan, some path you’ve charted so I can make sense of all of this.”

There was something in North’s eyes, some near rabid desperation, that forced Steadfast’s hoof.

“Do you hear them?” he whispered.

The shock in North’s eyes was all the confirmation he needed.

“Do not listen, North Wind,” Steadfast said, stepping forward.  The two Wonderbolts tensed, ready to strike.  “Do not give them a moment of your time, or your thoughts.  Steel your ponies, for those voices are a very real enemy.”

“What are you…” North recoiled, eyes wide.  “What are you talking about?”

But he knew.  Steadfast could see it in the fear in his eyes, and the way he shrank back.

“Don’t be a fool.  You know.  Tell your ponies.  Do not listen.  Do not make Proud Stone’s mistake.”

“Is that what’s happening?” North hissed.  “By the Saints, Steadfast, what are you going to do?”

“I need to see her to be sure,” he said.  There was a moment of turmoil in his thoughts, while the voices of the wind howled in his ears.  They demanded mistrust.  The letter in his pocket begged for something else.  “But I need your help in the meantime.  Somepony needs to do what Proud Stone should be doing.”

“Law and order,” North said, nodding slowly.  “I can, Steadfast.  But you know most of my Knights are assigned elsewhere.  I don’t have the personnel to maintain calm throughout the city.”

“But you do have ponies with more expertise working in cold climates.  And I shall give you authorization to press any Vigilants you find into your command.”

“That’s a dangerous precedent,” North Wind said.  “Are we just usurping the Knights Vigilant now?”

“Yes,” Steadfast said without hesitating.  “Proud has proved herself unfit to lead.  In my role as the first among Grand Masters, appointed by Saint Twilight herself, I declare that the Vigilant will need to be under your leadership until such time as we can ascertain Proud Stone’s health, or find a replacement for her.”

“My command?  Not yours?” North Wind narrowed his eyes.

“Because you don’t trust me,” Steadfast fired back.  North recoiled again but nodded.

That simple wordless admission stung, but there was nothing for him to do about it now.

“You don’t trust me either.  You still have not told me what your strike force was up to in the ruins.”

“I will,” he promised.  He actually meant it.  “When I can.  When things are more settled.  Priorities, as you said.”

“I won’t accept that,” North said.  “But I’ll set it aside for now.”

“Take to the streets.  Restore order and sanity.  Keep an eye out for heretic movement.”  He paused for a moment, in thought.  “Get in touch with Layer Cake, too.  If he insists on hiding in his headquarters, you have command of his Jubilant as well.”

“I don’t like that,” North said.

“Neither do I,” Steadfast lied.  In truth, it was what he had always wanted.  Unity of purpose, unity of command. Only not this way.

Still, if his vision were to come to pass, did it matter if he were the one at the head?  Or could he cede that role to another?

He subconsciously reached up and touched the letter again.

No.  No it did not matter who was at the head, as long as his Equestria became a reality.

For a second his mind wandered to Emberglow.  Soon.  It always should have been her.  She should have been at his side.  His…

Well, not his foal, for certain.  But there was a degree of responsibility there, surely?  A level of ownership, or familiarity?

she abandoned you

adorn a spear with her head

no quarter asked no quarter given

Absolutely not.  He needed her alive. He needed the Elements.

It looked like he’d be returning to his first instinct then; his own eyes on the situation.

“You’re not still going to go by yourself, are you?” North’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.

Steadfast nodded.  “I am.  I am capable of keeping myself safe.”

“From the enemy without, perhaps.  But what about this new enemy within?  What defenses do you have from that?  How do you do it, Steadfast?”

North meant the voices.  He almost gave a boilerplate answer.  Prayer, studying the Book, faith.  But North deserved more from him.  North had always been steadfast himself; a true scion of his chosen Saint.  After a moment of hesitation, he pulled out the letter.

“Strength of will counts for something,” he said, as he slowly unfolded the paper.  “But connection means more.  Connections between ponies, even ones that may not always agree.  Like your willingness to listen to me, even though you don’t trust me.  Cooperation, loyalty.  Do you remember I had squires?”

“You’ve had three, right?  I only remember one of them, that… bouncy mare who went into the Radiant about ten years ago?”

“Right.  Puddle Jumper.  Here.”

North quickly read the letter, his expression going from wary to incredulous.  While he read, Steadfast motioned Liminal over to his side.

“I’m going out after all.  You may come with me, and bring as many as three other Mystics.  I also need to speak to Wire Spool before we go.  Get everything prepared, including winter gear for all of us, and then we go to see Proud Stone.  Be ready for violence.”

The young Mystic nodded and darted away.

“Glad you’re taking someone with you,” North said.  He gave the letter back to Steadfast.  “Your old squire is naïve to think that a letter like this will change anything.”

“Is she?” Steadfast said, and North blinked at him in shock.  “What I know is, when I hold the letter close, the howling voices of the cold wind grow softer and further away.  What does that mean, North Wind?”

The Grand Master of the Adamant, the High General himself, stood openmouthed in stunned silence.

“I don’t know either.”

“You’re not thinking of making peace with the Radiant, are you?”

“I know for sure that we can’t afford to be fighting them right now,” Steadfast said.  “And I know I need to figure out why this is happening.  Proud’s little tantrum isn’t helping anypony.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, you have duties, and I have some reports to catch up on.”

“Reports, huh?” North said suspiciously, but when Steadfast didn’t elaborate, he shrugged.  “Very well.  Go with the blessing of the Saints, Steadfast.”


*   *   *   *   *


The report from Wire Spool had been unsatisfying.  The expedition to the mountain was on its way back, but he had no news about Joy.  Apparently they’d suffered heavy casualties, and Joy was alive, but refusing to talk to any of her comrades. 

Brightblade was not with them.  Steadfast didn’t know what that meant.

Outside of the Star Shine building, the streets were covered in a thick layer of wet, heavy snow.  Ponies were gathering in the plaza; a hundred or more civilians, dressed in ragged winter gear.  Refugees from the chaos, seeking some kind of asylum.

It was right that they would seek the safety of the Saint’s chosen Knights.  But law and order was North’s problem now.  Steadfast and his entourage brushed past them, embarking into the snow.

But Steadfast’s hooves touched dry, bare pavement; two Mystics in faux fur lined armor went ahead of them, gauntlets glowing with spells that blew a constant whirlwind of dry, hot air around them. 

Still, it was agonizingly slow going.  If it were just him, he would be pushing through the blizzard on his own strength, but his so-called honor guard had insisted.

Steadfast accepted it with grace.  The warm air did nothing to shut out the cold voices.

The letter did that.

The very idea of it filled his mind with wonder.  Wonder and confusion.  What was it about the words of a traitor that repulsed the murderous cold so?

Maybe he should be asking his old squire if she’d found any strange glowing gems recently.

Much to Steadfast’s surprise, the streets were not empty.  There were civilians out and about.  Most of them were ordinary families; middle-class ponies who didn’t have manors or guards to cower behind.  They carried heavy packs on their backs, and moved in tightly-huddled groups.  Every one of them froze in terror as they saw Steadfast and his procession.

“Evacuating?  Be orderly, do not stop, do not loot, and go with the Saint’s protection,” he told each of them.  The looks of naked gratitude that cut through the fear warmed his heart.

There were looters, too.  He saw three stallions crawling out of a broken shop window, loaded down with sacks.  They took one look at the approaching Knights and fled in different directions, screaming in terror.

easy prey

whet your appetite

feed and fill, tear and crush

Steadfast declined to pursue.

The closer they drew to Diamond Home, the louder they could hear the sounds of violence over the howling wind and snow.  And it wasn’t just sounds; there was a visual record, as well.  Here and there, splotches of pink snow and ice, or scorch marks upon signposts or brick walls, poking through the swirling snow.

And then he saw the first of the bodies.

They weren’t just left behind.  Proud Stone was much too clean for that.  No, these bodies were hanging from street lamps and telegraph poles.

The first group was a pair of stallions.  Black bags hid their faces, and their hooves were tied.  They wore civilian clothing, and a hastily written placard around their necks read ‘treason’.

One block over, there were three more.  Two mares in white robes, and a third, barely a teenager, in squire gray.  Blood stained all three, from dozens of wounds on each.  Steadfast wondered if the ponies had even survived to be strung up in their nooses.  

Liminal stiffened at the sight. “They’re killing foals now?” he hissed.

“From now on,” Steadfast growled, making Liminal and the others jump.  “We cut them down.  This is disgusting.”

The Saints knew he was no stranger to killing or executing.  But the public display sickened him.  They were civilized ponies.  There was no need for such macabre theater.

It didn’t take long for Liminal to produce a knife and cut through the ropes that held the three nooses up.  The bodies slumped, hitting the snow with a thud.

“Would you… do you…” the young Mystic motioned to the hoods.  Steadfast shook his head.  “Yes sir.”

As they continued on their way, they cut down a dozen more bodies.  By the time the first Vigilant tried to stop them, Steadfast was seething with rage.

“Hey!  Hey you!  What are you doing?!  Don’t you cut those down, they’re to be left by order of…”

The orange-armored mare finally seemed to notice what color armor they were wearing as she rushed over through the snow.  With a gasp of terror, she came to a halt, and the spear she’d been brandishing clattered to the snow.

“S-s-s-s-sir S-steadfast!” she managed, managing a salute.  Steadfast walked up to her until they were nearly nose-to-nose, his hoof stepping firmly on her fallen spear.

“Do you object to my orders, Knight?”

His voice barely rose above the wind, but she flinched back as if he’d howled.

“N-n-no, s-sir.”

“Even though they may differ from the orders you received from Lady Proud Stone?”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“What are your orders from her?”

“P-patrolling the streets.  Making sure civilians don’t m-mess with the b-bodies.  Making sure they don’t l-loot.”

“You have new orders, lieutenant,” he said, looking at the bars of rank on her shoulder.  “Find the nearest Adamant.  Surrender yourself to his or her command.  Follow with exactness.”

“B-but…”

“I will deal with your Grand Master,” Steadfast said, and the mare flinched back again.  “Now, go!”

His final command came as a hissed shout, and was enough to make her trip over herself backwards as she ran away from him.  Still, when her panicked flight took her about half a block away, the Knight Vigilant stopped, turning back towards him.

faithless

make her feel, make her remember

red, melting snow

He nearly listened to them.  How dare she…

“Sir?  Th-thank you.  G-good luck.”

And then she turned to run again.

“So they’re not all mad like Lady Stone is,” Liminal speculated.  Steadfast glared at him, and he recoiled a little, but stood his ground.  “Sorry, sir.”

“Stay focused.  Something is happening to the Vigilants, and even that mare knew it.”

“Not just the Vigilants,” Liminal said darkly, but didn’t elaborate.  He didn’t need to. 

Sounds of shouting and gunfire up ahead spurred them on.  Still, there were two more sets of bodies to cut down.  Their small group saw Vigilants more and more frequently on the streets, though none dared stop them from their task.  A low, base part of Steadfast reveled in the way they turned aside at his cold glances.

Each group of Vigilants got the same orders.  Leave, find the nearest Adamant, and fall into their command.  Most of the Vigilants looked relieved at the orders.

Finally, Steadfast and his companions were merely a block away from the square in front of Diamond Home.  If Proud Stone had set up a permanent command post, it would be in Carousel Square. 

But as they approached, he noticed something odd about the gunfire he could hear.  It wasn’t the regimented report of soldiers firing on a besieged hospital, nor was it the chaotic volley of a skirmish.  It was methodical, repetitious, a single shot every few seconds.

An execution.

Steadfast hurried his hoofsteps, even as he heard the sound of singing rising above the blizzard.  It was a voice he recognized, and it intermixed with a louder voice, the spell-enhanced announcements of Lady Proud Stone.  The words of the song were an ancient poem, and Steadfast knew where she’d learned it; he was the one who had taught her the words, years ago.

“When I was a little filly,
And the sun was going down…”

“Lady Rolling Thunder of the Radiant, you are condemned to death for Treason.  May the Saints have mercy on you.”

A gunshot, then a thud.

            	“…the darkness and the shadows
They would always make me frown…”

“Squire Chorus Belt, you are condemned to death for Treason.  May the Saints have mercy on you.”

Another gunshot, then a thud.  Steadfast broke into a gallop, and the Mystics with him cried out in surprise.

            	“…I’d hide under my pillow
From what I thought I saw
But Grannie Pie said that wasn’t the way
To deal with fears at all…”

“Lady Puddle Jumper of the Radiant, you are condemned to death for Treason.  May the Saints have mercy on you.”

Steadfast ran harder.

He rounded the corner into Carousel Square, searching desperately for a familiar sight.  The letter burned like an ember in the pocket of his robes.  Finally his eyes found Proud Stone.

There was a crowd of ragged looking Vigilants, standing guard over a half dozen prisoners kneeling blindfolded in the snow.  There were even some civilians, looking terrified and exhausted.  Several of the prisoners were already slumped forward, still and bleeding from gunshot wounds to the backs of their heads.  Proud stood over them all, holding a pistol.

The blindfolded figure at her knees still had her mouth open in song.  Steadfast could see, even in these circumstances, the smile on her face through the tears running down her cheeks.

            	“…she said ‘Pinkie, you gotta stand up tall
Learn to face your fears…”

“Wait!” he screamed, desperation pulling the sound from deep within him.

He was too far away.

The trigger squeezed.  There was a flash, and another body slumped, blood staining the snow.

Something inside of Steadfast broke.  He marched towards Proud, who had ignored his command and was already moving towards the next prisoner in line.

“Sir Dipoly Diffraction of the Vigilant, you are condemned to death for cowardice and Treason.  May the…”

Steadfast cast a spell as the snow flurried about him.  His heart was steel.

“LADY PROUD STONE.”

It wasn’t just voice amplification; it was more than that, a specialized sort of offensive spell that made one’s voice a physical force.  The Vigilant who had stepped up to guard their mistress was blown backwards, and the prisoner she’d been standing behind fell over into the snow with a whimper of pain.  Proud herself kept her hooves, merely blinking in shock.

“Sir Steadfast.  I did not expect you.”

There was something off about her voice, but Steadfast ignored her.  Instead, he had eyes for the last prisoner only.

Puddle Jumper, his former squire, was dead.  The execution had been clean.  He pulled the blindfold off her eyes to be sure.  Cold, glassy eyes stared back at him, frozen in one last attempt to laugh off the fears he had so often tried to counsel her through. 

“Somepony you knew?  Or are you just making sure I did my duty?”

Steadfast looked up at Proud Stone, meeting her gaze.  What he saw there killed the last of his hope.

They were not pools of light, but gray maelstroms of murk; shallow, washed out puddles of lost sanity.  They didn’t focus on his gaze for long, sliding in and out of focus as they darted about.

Her mane was mussed as well, matted with mud, blood, and sweat.  It was clear she was coming apart at the seams.

He’d have to put her down.

“Proud, what are you thinking?  A siege? This is not what I requested.”

He had no hope of getting through to her.  For what she’d done to Jumpy, she had to die.  He didn’t even stop to think of the incongruence; just a few hours ago he’d been wishing death for all of the Radiants.  But now…

Curse her for giving him hope.

“I am following the will of Saint Applejack, Steadfast.  I am doing what her voice tells me to.”

It was almost comical how devoid of sense her voice was.  He could even see it in the eyes of some of her followers.  There were those whose expressions bled with madness, like hers.  But even more of them were looking about with fear and hopelessness.

“And Her voice, does it come on a cold wind? Are you the only one who hears?”

He was speaking mostly for himself.  His own voices howled.

“The true faithful hear Her,” Proud said reverently, her thin voice glazed with the madness of the zealot.  “It will come to all of Her children in time, if they do not lose themselves to cowardice like this one did.”

She kicked the Knight kneeling at her hooves.  He groaned in pain.

“Sir… Dipoly, you said?  What was his crime?”

“He spoke against the word of Saint Applejack.  He demanded mercy for these Radiant traitors.  Pushing a little further, he told me he used to be friends with that one.”

She lashed out with another kick, this time at Jumpy’s corpse. 

Her death would be painful.

“What kind of mercy?”

“Negotiation.  Prisoner exchange.  Some other foolish things.  But you and I both know, Steadfast, that corruption cannot be allowed to fester.  This… this wickedness.  This madness.  It has to be rooted out.  You know it, right?  Do you hear Saint Twilight’s voice, too?”

There was something off when she spoke. He started when he realized. It was her breath.  It wasn’t fogging in the air, like other ponies’ breath was.

“Perhaps,” he said, moving behind the prisoner to stand next to her.  “Do you mind?”

He held out a hoof for the pistol.

“It is… sanctifying, in a way, to take the fight against corruption into one’s own hooves, isn’t it?” the older mare said, passing the pistol over with a smile.  Steadfast was aware of the eyes on him.  Nearly a hundred Knights Vigilant, and only a few of his own.  Perhaps he could trust the ones with fear in their eyes.  Perhaps not.  He’d have to see.

“It is,” he said, and turned and shot her through the chest.

For a moment Proud Stone stared at him, then down at the chest of her robes, the orange slowly blossoming into red.  Then she fell to her knees.

“B-but…” she stammered, blood gurgling into her mouth.  She coughed, flecks landing on his own robes.  He ignored them, a surge of pleasure filling him at a well-placed shot.  She’d drown from the blood filling her lungs, then. 

“Because you are weak.  Because you are an idiot.  Because you took something that was mine and you destroyed it.”

He wasn’t making much sense, and even to his own ears his voice sounded alien.  Cold.  Frosty air seemed to swirl in the air as he hissed at her.

“Because you ruined my plans, and you killed my friend.  Because there is no Harmony in you, and so you are a part of the problem.  You are the enemy here.”

Proud collapsed into the snow, gasping for breath, her hooves clutching at her chest.  She choked again, more red in the snow.  Steadfast reached out with a hoof, shoving her the rest of the way to the ground.  He smashed her face into the snow.

“Because you gave in.  You stopped fighting the corruption yourself and let it in.  That’s not the voice of Saint Applejack you hear, it’s the voice of your own damnation.  Damn you, Proud Stone.”

As the mare gurgled into the ground, Steadfast moved his hoof to her neck.  It was taking too long.  He moved forward, pressing hard until he heard a snap.

The voices crooned with glee.

It was then that he looked up long enough to see what was happening.

His guard had taken up a position around him, spears raised.  It was three against a hundred, and many of the Vigilants looked forward with murder in their eyes.  Still, there were enough that didn’t.

Steadfast ignored them all.

“Lady Proud Stone is dead at my authority.  She gave in to madness.”

Steadfast wondered where the voices were.  He could hear their howling as he looked into the eyes of the mad Vigilants.

“Until a replacement can be chosen, the Knights Vigilant serve under the command of Sir North Wind of the Adamant.  Every single one of you is to disperse, and find the nearest blue robed or armored pony.  Obey their orders until you hear otherwise.”

Nopony moved.

“Anypony who cannot obey, who cannot do their duty, will end up like Proud Stone.  Do you want to die restoring order to our city?  Or do you want to bleed out in a gutter with cowards and traitors?”

At the edges, Vigilants began to slink away.  Steadfast nodded.

Order out of chaos.

Law out of corruption.

This was… this was what all this was for, right?

No matter who he had to kill to get there?

He gave one last look at the white-robed body of his former squire.  When he looked up, several Vigilants had yet to depart.

“Sir, somepony still needs to deal with these prisoners,” one of them, a mare, said.  Her voice wasn’t tainted like Proud’s had been.

“Untie him,” he said, pointing at the Knight he’d just saved from execution.  The mare looked at him first with shock, then relief.  She did as he ordered.

Sir Dipoly was a middle-aged earth pony with orangish brown fur.  It was matted from the blindfold, and from fear sweat.  His eyes blinked rapidly, exposed suddenly to the light.  As soon as he could he looked around, his eyes fell on the bodies and he flinched.

“Why…?” was all he could manage with a raspy voice.

“You,” Steadfast said.  Even to his own ears, his voice sounded like ice.  Dipoly flinched away from him.  “You stood up to Lady Proud, despite the consequences.  Why?”

“They…” he motioned with a hoof.  “They were just trying to get foals to safety.  That’s all.  They weren’t a threat to anypony.”

“Foals?”

Dipoly motioned to the rest of the line of prisoners.  Steadfast looked for the first time.  There were two more Radiants, and another Vigilant.  But the rest were dressed as pages from the Seminary.

“Relatives of the Angelic and the Radiant.  Who were in Seminary,” Dipoly explained.  “She was going to… just kill them all.  I tried to stop her.”

“That was useless,” Steadfast said coldly.

Dipoly shrugged.  “I’m not a fighter, really.  I…I’m a bureaucrat.  A forensic accountant.”

“You did what you could,” said one of the standing Vigilants.  It was the mare from earlier, the one who’d asked about the prisoners.  “You did more than I could.  Than most of us could.”

“Pointless,” Steadfast said, feeling another surge of rage.  “All of you are failures.  You couldn’t even rein her in.  Helpless.” He looked down at Dipoly.  “At least you tried.  That’s worth something.  I’m putting you in command here, until I can send an Adamant.”

“Me, sir? I told you, I’m an accountant!  I’ve spent most of the last few years on medical leave, I…”

“Yes, you.  Dipoly Diffraction, it is your duty to keep these prisoners safe, and keep Diamond Home contained until somepony from the Adamant arrives to take over command.  Understood?”

Steadfast leaned forward, and Dipoly shied away.  “Fail me and your corpse freezes next to Stone’s.”

“Wh-why me?”

“Because you tried.  That’s better than most of this lot.”

He glanced up at his honor guard.  “Liminal.  Stay with Dipoly.  You’re at his command for now.  If any of these fools can’t follow orders, execute them.  Make it hurt.”

“Yes sir,” Liminal said.  He walked over to Dipoly, offering a hoof up.  “I’m at your command, sir,” he said to the shaking Vigilant.  Dipoly nodded slowly.

But Steadfast didn’t care.  All of them could freeze to death, for all he cared.  He was…

He was…

There was something.  Something he was supposed to be doing.  Something that was supposed to come of all this, something that mattered.

But the voices howled, and sometimes it was hard to remember.

Order out of chaos.

Law out of corruption.

blood out of the veins

breath frozen in the lungs

flesh for the tearing

He turned away from Dipoly and Liminal, who were already starting to organize the assembled Vigilants. At the edge of the square stood a single Mystic.  She saluted as Steadfast approached.

“Report.”

Steadfast’s voice felt raw, like he’d been talking and yelling constantly.  He hadn’t, really, but the cold of his own breath scraped at his throat.

He realized that when his guard, the Vigilants, or the newcomer Mystic breathed, their breaths fogged in the air.  His didn’t.

“Sir.  Joyful Noise has returned.  She says she needs you back right away.  She said to tell you that you need to keep your promise.”

The mare shook her head in confusion.

“She told me you’d know what she meant.”

“I do,” Steadfast said.

Yet who would keep the promise for him?

“Lead the way,” he said simply.

But before he could leave Carousel Square, he let a single piece of paper drop into the slush and snow at his hooves, the ink blurring in the muddy wet.


*   *   *   *   *


North Wind had long since left the Star Shine building when Steadfast returned, though his presence was felt.  Throughout he could see blue robes and blue armor, coordinating and communicating.  Efficiency was a hallmark of North’s military outlook and organization, and normally it would have made Steadfast proud to see it.

Now he felt nothing.

The inside wasn’t as warm as it should have been, and he could see ponies shivering with cold, ponies casting heating enchantments, and ponies carrying around mugs of steaming liquid.  Everywhere there was evidence that the cold was still creeping, even indoors.

Most of them were civilians, huddling together in small groups, eyeing those around them with hostility and suspicion.

The snow being tracked from outside filled the building’s entrance hall with slush and ice.  Steadfast felt a prick of anger.  Even basic cleanliness seemed to be falling by the wayside; that or nopony besides Knights wanted to come in to do work today.  Part of him couldn’t blame them. 

“You are dismissed,” he told his honor guard as soon as they’d stepped inside.  “Seek out Lady Time Stamp, she’ll find new orders for you.”

Of course they wanted to protest.  He could see it in their eyes.  But they didn’t voice it.  The courier joined them in running off, complete with a look of fear sent his way.

He didn’t care.  It’s not like he needed an entourage.

He made his way to where he knew Joy would be waiting.  Not at his office.  Not at her own quarters, nor her duty station in the basement archives next to the vault of the Machine.

Being next to the machine would be agony, right now.  Or perhaps… perhaps it would be restful.

Still, he moved right to where he knew she would be.

There was a sun-room on the fifth floor, a little greenhouse built into the side of a balcony.  Some of the Mystic artificers used it for plant based experimentation.  When she needed to calm down and gather herself, when the voices got to be too much, Joy liked to go there.

“Botany is my true love,” she had confessed to him once.  “Before I realized the Saints had more in store for me than simply growing living things.”

In a perfect world, in a peaceful world, he could have left her alone with her plants.  But he’d needed her mind, her loyalty, and her willingness to do what it took to accomplish his goals.

And now it would cost her her life.

The greenhouse was beautiful; a little slice of paradise in the otherwise austere building.  Steadfast hadn’t been here often; but when he did come, he’d appreciated the breath of fresh air.

Now, though, a cold wind slid through the entire room.  He could see frost growing on several of the plants already.  The window up above, that once provided warmth and protection, was shattered.  The culprit was a spear thrust through and then stuck, its blade wedged into the iron framework that held up the window.

Every plant in the greenhouse would be dead within minutes.

“That was how I knew.”

Joy’s voice was a whisper, harsh and raspy.  Steadfast found her curled up in the remains of a dozen shattered pots.  Her robes and flesh were pierced in multiple places, shards of terra cotta having sliced her open when she presumably broke the pots.

“I knew I’d gone too far.  I’d given too much.  Because the real me… the real me loved this place.  Loved these plants.  And now I’ve killed them.”

“Report,” Steadfast said.  He watched idly as hoarfrost started to grow from her bloodstained robes and matted fur.  She didn’t seem to notice the cold.

“The abomination is dead.  Brightblade is dead.”

“Emberglow?”

“Remains at large.”

“And…”

“She’s here.  Guarded and unconscious.  In your office.”

Steadfast waited to feel the surge of pleasure at the victory.  There was nothing.

“Where you sow, another will reap,” Joy said, as if it were a prophecy.  “I… I always knew it would be so with me.  But it will be with you, too?  Only… who’s going to keep my promise to you, Steadfast?”

“Nopony.  That’s my burden.”

He stepped up to her.  Joy didn’t lift her head.  Slowly he stroked her mane with one hoof.

“You did well,” he whispered.  He waited to feel anything.  Sorrow.  Triumph.  Regret.

Nothing.

“Please.  Please be quick,” she said.  “And then go see your prize.  And, Saints protect us Steadfast, you have to win.  You have to win so that all of this death, this madness and chaos, this bloodshed…”

She shuddered.

“…so that it all makes sense.  And has a purpose.  Please.”

In his mind, Steadfast had already forgotten her.  Like a letter dropped into the snow.

“We will,” he promised, as he reached out and snapped her neck.  
> Chapter 68
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 68


Sermon given by Gordon Mountaincrest, recorded at the Old Canterlot Palace, 1113 AF.  Recorded by Rogue Circumstance of the ISO, and broadcast via radio to every Imperial combat zone.

Knights and soldiers of the Empire,

You are about to charge into battle.

I see you all there, in your armor, with your weapons of death and destruction.

I know your cause is noble, and I know you believe you are heading into battle to defeat ignorance, hate, and tyranny.

But hate cannot be cut by a blade. It cannot be pierced by a bullet. And it cannot be crushed by a Knight’s hooves.

I’ve been asked by Princess Sunset Shimmer to tell you all about your real enemy.  Not the Diarchy.  Not their Knights, or their institutions.  Not their ponies.

Your enemy is hate itself.  Disharmony.

Listen to the wind.  We can all hear its fury. Some of you can hear fell voices coming with it.

You are not insane.  You are not sick.

The enemy is real, and those voices you hear are real.  They are more real than the Knights whom you venture out to fight.  And they are the true threat.

We possess the key to their defeat, though.  We always have.

Hundreds of years ago, your ancestors, and the ancestors of the Saints themselves, faced this very same threat.  And they called them Windigo.

The Windigo is hunger and hate.  It is violence and emptiness.  It craves cold nothingness; the last gasp of the dying, the splash of blood on snow, the stillness of frostbite.  But it cannot create these things itself; it needs people.

That is why it mutters in your ears.  That is why it spreads distrust, hatred, and the lust for violence.

Don’t give in!

But it is easier than you may think to fight back.  Our ancestors, the ancient forbearers of the torch wielded by the Saints themselves, developed the simplest of methods to hold their cold foes at bay.

They embraced.  Sang songs.  Shared stories of friendship and love.

Does it sound too easy?  Too childish?  Perhaps.  But these hateful creatures will not be defeated by anything less than Harmony itself.  And what is Harmony at its core, besides the connections between all of us?

So revel in those connections.  Speak about them.  Sing about them.  Sing together, in groups.  If that’s not possible, sing by yourself, songs of home and family.  Keep close to your heart memories of children, parents, siblings, spouses; all those connected to us by bonds, be they of blood or of choice. 

And most of all, spread the word.  The Diarchy does not know, and they do not understand.  Some of you may suggest that allowing them to be consumed will be a victory for us.  This is not so.  Every pony taken, every life snuffed out by these creatures is an irretrievable loss.  Every light put out just makes the world that much darker, and we need the fires of friendship and love, every fire, in order to push back the frozen void.

So when you can, use words, not spears.  Invitations, not bullets.  Because what could be a greater Harmony than former enemies coming together to defeat a greater foe?

My prayer is that in this dark time, we will be able to create something beautiful.  Like those pioneering ponies of the first Hearth’s Warming, all those centuries ago, perhaps we can build a new light within this coldness, and new life from under the snow.

Go with the grace of the Saints and the wisdom of the Alicorns.  And go in peace and Harmony.

May Harmony guide and protect us all.

New Canterlot City, 1113 AF

Time had stopped making sense.

That, and sensation.  Color and smell, sound and taste, all blended together and bled into each other.

Emberglow tried to close her eyes, to shut it out.  But how does one close their eyes against a smell?

Or clench their muzzle shut against a sound?

It was misery and insanity, like an artillery shell exploding, over and over, inside her head.  It hurt.

And she was screaming.

Somewhere beyond the sound and fury she’d felt her friends’ hooves on her.  Lofty and Topaz, Terminus and Heartwing.  But then they were gone, spun off and set free, to who knew where.

She could not feel them any longer.

But she could still feel the tether.  The spell she had cast had reached along it.  Had pulled herself along. 

A spell that had taken her…

…here.

It took a hundred years to pull herself into here, for the color and sound to fade.

Here was her room.  In her house.  Or more accurately, her parents’ house.

Her bedroom was familiar but not; it was her bed, and her bookshelf on the wall.  It felt even tinier than it had before, with barely any room for her meager childhood belongings.

Those belongings were spread out all over the bed and the floor.  The bedsheet had been torn up, and the mattress upended.  Her books, pages torn and soiled with mud, were spread over what little floor space she had.

Emberglow’s head pounded as she tried to make sense of her surroundings and her situation.  Swirls of color danced at the edges of her vision, and in her blind eye.  And through it all, a single beacon of blue light blazed.

Blue.

It was blue.

Rarity.

“R-rarity?”

Her voice was raspy.  Raw.  As Emberglow struggled to pull herself up from the crooked mattress, her head spun. 

There was no response to her orphaned call.

As she blinked wet eyes she tried to think.

Rarity.

Rarity was gone.

Rarity was taken.

She was…

Emberglow was in her home.

In the capital.

The others… the others were somewhere.  She had no idea where.

Bubblegum…

Bubblegum was…

I am here.

Bubblegum’s voice. 

“You’re dead,” Emberglow rasped.

The soft voice in her head didn’t respond.

But those words were like a rock, a cement foundation that she could stand on.

A cornerstone.

Something she could use to start making sense of the rest of the world.

Emberglow had been teleported to New Canterlot City.

No.

That was inaccurate.  She hadn’t been teleported, she had teleported herself.  With the help of runes that a dead mare had placed in her head.

It was a testament to the chaos of the last few hours that Emberglow didn’t have much space in her head to think about that.  Teleportation via rune magic was supposed to be impossible.  She had done the impossible.  And she simply didn’t have the time to even think about it.

Speaking of time, she glanced out her window.  The glass was still intact, something that surprised her given the state of her room.  Whatever had ransacked the place hadn’t broken the window, which felt odd to her.

But outside there were few clues to let her know what time it was.  The sky was shrouded in dark clouds, and snow came down in large, wet clumps.  She could barely see across the street.

It was impossible to know how much time had passed.

Slowly, the urgency of Emberglow’s situation started to cut through her confusion.

She had teleported to the middle of an enemy city.  Her friends had teleported with her, but they were not here.  She had no idea where they could possibly be. 

And then there was Rarity.  Captured by Knights Mystic.

No good could come from that.  But her own tracking spell was proof that Rarity was alive, for now.

Unless, of course, there was something wrong with her.

Emberglow tried not to think about that.  Instead, she moved to the door.  Habit and instinct drove her hooves, and she tried to close it as she stepped out onto the iron spiral staircase that led downstairs, to the kitchen.

There were books in the way.  Emberglow looked down and saw her very first edition of Grey’s Pony Anatomy.  The notes she’d written in the margins as a med student were visible, even among the dirty hoof-stains that trampled the pages.

The remnants of her old life, trod beneath the hooves of strangers.  She felt an odd sort of sorrow, and had to remind herself that whatever had happened here, her parents were safe, back in Old Canterlot.

Well, as safe as anypony could be right now.

The sound of her hooves on the iron staircase echoed in the too-quiet building.  This place had never been so quiet.  During the day, there had always been the sounds of business; customers rooting around in the shop, the sewing machines in the back room running.  In the evenings there would be the hush of her parents’ conversations, or even the running of the sink as her father washed the dishes after dinner.  And even in the night-time, her mother’s gentle snores or her father’s occasional trips to the kitchen for a sleepless midnight snack would have filled the home.

The quiet was disorienting; Emberglow should have been able to tell what time it was from those sounds alone.  It made her home seem foreign and alien.

The kitchen and living room were just as much of a mess as her bedroom had been.  She wasn’t surprised that their house had been raided; after all, she’d been there when Heartwing had asked Bubblegum to come to extract her parents.  A visit from a black bag squad had been inevitable.  But still, seeing the reality of it, the chaos and destruction left behind when a dozen Mystics had barged in and torn up their sanctuary was jarring.

The lowest level, the shop itself, actually made Emberglow pause, her breath caught in a lump in her throat.  Everything her parents had built up over the years, every hour and minute they’d sacrificed, just to give her a slim chance at a better life, had been torn, cut, trampled, and burned, scattered among broken displays and shattered windows.  A cold wind blew from the street outside, dusting the interior, and the ruined merchandise, with a thin layer of bitter snow.

Her parents’ entire livelihood, cast aside like it didn’t matter any longer.  It hurt to see, enough to make Emberglow sniff a little.

There was a part of her that wanted to see the bright side.  To remind herself that her parents could start anew.  That with the protection and encouragement of the Empire and the patronage of its Empress, her parents would never need to struggle or sacrifice again.  But it still meant a loss; a change from what they were, what had made them the strong, kind, industrious ponies who raised her up into something new and unknown.

And of course, the last time they’d spoken had been in anger.

The guilt gnawed at her and she cringed.

worthless

oathbreaker friend-slayer saint-betrayer

no wonder they hate you

The voices, very real in her head, swirled around like the flurries of snow.  Trying to listen to them was like trying to catch a breeze in her hooves.  Trying to ignore them was like trying to ignore the cold seeping into her bones from the window.

Emberglow shook her head, pushing the thoughts away.  She didn’t have time for this.  But as she was about to step out of the shop, into the snow-blanketed Emerald Street, she hesitated.

In one of the broken window panes she caught a glimpse of her reflection.  White armor.  Yellow stripes on the forehoof.

Clear marks that she was an enemy here.

Emberglow peered more at the reflection.  There was barely enough light to see, but flickering street lamps glowing through the haze of snow provided just enough.  She was shaking.

Shock.

She was used to this; it wouldn’t be the first time she’d experienced shock.  It did explain why she felt so… so disconnected.  Numb.

She wasn’t panicking, she wasn’t frantic, she was just closed off.  That wouldn’t do.

“Count to ten, Emberglow,” she said to herself, her voice echoing in the empty shop.  It was a tried and true tactic for her, usually what she did in times of panic.  Lots of doctors and medics used different tactics to get a hold of a messy situation mentally, in order to start thinking rationally.

It was prime time for some rational thought.

One.  Two.  Three.  Her parents were safe, she didn’t need to worry about them.

Four.  Five.  Her friends were all competent and clever.  Yes, they had been separated from her, but that didn’t mean they were in danger.

Six.  Seven.  There were things she could control, and things she could not.

Eight.  Nine.  Ten.  Rarity.

She hurried back upstairs, her brain finally kick-starting into motion.  She was stripping off her armor already by the time she reached her room.

Her drawers, lying on the floor, had already been rifled through, but she was able to root through to find a few intact pieces of clothing.  New Canterlot City had fairly mild weather, so she had little more than an old raincoat that was a touch too small for her as cold weather gear.  Still, it was possible to layer, so she did, putting on a pair of baggy sweats over her gambeson, and a looser blouse over the top.  It was enough to cover herself.

Her gauntlet would be harder to hide, but she wasn’t about to go without that.  She rushed to her parents’ room.

It was in the same state as her own, though it looked like somepony had taken a blade to her parents’ mattress.  It was vicious; the eviscerated furniture had its entrails spilled about the entire room.  Clearly somepony had been angry, probably at having been denied their prey. 

But once again, Emberglow was able to find, in the closet, a pair of her father’s old saddlebags.  There was even still an old army first aid kit inside.  She shoved her gauntlet inside and put them on quickly, over her layered gear.  Then she headed back downstairs.

It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it would be enough for the cold.  Emberglow stepped through the broken window display and out into Emerald street, looking around.

The first thing she noticed was the sign.  Snow was already accumulating on the surface of the splintered pallet wood, crudely nailed over the door.  ‘Closed for Suspicion of Heresy’, it read.

It was like a crude insult to all the signs Emberglow’s parents had put up over the years, and she felt an irrational urge to tear it down.  But that would look suspicious, and that wasn’t what she needed right now.  She needed to get to Rarity, and the only way that was going to happen was if she didn’t draw attention to herself.

But she immediately saw the flaw in her plan.  Emerald Street was a ghost town.  Nopony was moving about in the falling snow.  Sure, there were hoofprints that may have even been recent, but they were slowly being covered up in the descending blanket.

She glanced up.  Her bad eye could still see the colors, though it hurt to look through.  There was still the blazing beacon of blue, somewhere towards the center of town.

The Star Shine building, she was certain.  Where else would she be taken?  She was sure Steadfast would be there.

She started out into the snow, heading north.

“I’m coming, Rarity.”

Oak Chips’ shop was first, on the right.  It was still abandoned and boarded over.  Perhaps it was like bad luck; nopony wanted to take up shop in a building that had housed a suspected heretic.  She wondered how long her parents’ shop would lay empty.

The other shops were just as dark, though most of them were still intact.  A few had broken windows, but had been covered by sheets of plywood or other makeshift materials.  As she moved up the streets, Emberglow could see signs of destruction and violence slowly being swallowed by the tide of winter; debris and such from shops that had been broken into.  She wondered where their owners were, but when she looked upwards, to the second and third floors of some of those shops, there were hints of life.  On one side of the street she saw a fluttering curtain, another a flickering candle flame.

From one she even saw the hint of the barrel of a rifle, tracking her as she moved.  She made sure to hurry away from the building as soon as she saw that.

“Emberglow?”

The sound broke through the deafening silence of the snow-covered street.  Emberglow glanced up; it was Lavish Essence’s perfume shop.

The mare herself was poking her head out of a second-story window.  She, too, had a rifle in her hooves, though she wasn’t pointing it at her.

“Emberglow, is that you?  Get off the street, mare, are you stupid?  Come on, I’ll let you in.”

Emberglow didn’t have a reason to say no.  She wanted to move on; the blue beacon making her head ache and her heart sick with worry gnawed at her.  But she also needed to know what was happening in the city.  So she trotted over to the door, waiting until she heard the mechanical clicks and clanks of a deadbolt and a door chain being disengaged.

“Get in, quick!” The door opened for only a second, and Lavish reached out to yank her inside.  “Damn fool mare, you’re going to freeze or get strung up for looting!”

“But I’m not looting,” she noted, a little dumbly.

Inside the shop was a haunting reflection of what Emberglow remembered from her last visit inside as a teenager.  The shelves and display cases, usually full of exotic-looking bottles and brightly-wrapped cosmetics, were mostly empty.  A few were broken.  The scent of it all lingered in the air, but as a memory, not like a current reality.

“Do you think any of the brutes out there care about that?” Lavish said, re-engaging the door lock, the deadbolt, and the chain.  “It’s Tartarus out there, and the only sane ponies are either hiding or fleeing.  Why are you back here? I thought you were one of those Radiants.  They’re all supposed to be holed up in that hospital of theirs.”

“Yes, of course. Not everypony is with them, though.”  The deceit burned in her throat.  “Um.”

“You never could lie, young lady,” Lavish said harshly, eyeing her suspiciously as her grip tightened on her rifle.  It was jarring seeing her act this way; Lavish Essence had always been a gossip, true, but she’d always been open, engaging, and cheerful. 

The two stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

“Your parents got black-bagged,” Lavish said, her voice hard.  “Just a little bit ago.  After the announcement that was broadcast from the mountain.”

The rifle barrel started to rise.

“Why are you here?”

The implicit violence in her voice was chilling.

“I’m looking for a friend,” Emberglow said.  “Her life is in danger.”

“Everypony’s life is in danger,” Lavish hissed.  “What in the name of the Saints prompted you to come back here?  You’re one of them, aren’t you?  I should shoot you right now, I’m sure there’s some kind of reward.”

The temperature in the dark shop seemed to drop several degrees.  Emberglow’s mind raced.  But what came out of her mouth wasn’t an impassioned plea, or a threat, or a well-reasoned argument.

“Have you ever killed anypony, Miss Lavish?” she asked.  “Have you ever pulled the trigger on that gun?  Or felt your spear slip into pony flesh?”

She took a step forward, and Lavish stepped back, eyes wide.  Emberglow ignored the barrel of the rifle now pointed right at her.  There was something here that needed fixing, she knew instinctively.  A gap she could bridge.

“Have you held somepony in your hooves as the light left their eyes?  With their last words, begging for their mother?  I have.  And I don’t think you’re the kind of pony that can do something like that, Lavish.  I don’t think you’d walk away from that unscathed.  I think it would break you.”

The barrel of the rifle trembled.  Lavish’s eyes were so wide they reflected light from the lonely street lamps outside. 

“I don’t want you to make a choice that will haunt you for the rest of your life, Lavish.  Because I remember a mare that would never do something violent.  I remember an eager smile, a cheerful bounce in your gait, and a readiness to share in victories and commiserate in sorrow.  You were the heart of this street, Lavish.  And the mare I remember?  She can survive all this misery.”

“How?” Lavish rasped.

“Don’t give in to violence or fear.  Don’t let this change who you are.  Please.”

Lavish looked frozen.  Emberglow reached out and gently pushed the barrel of the rifle, until it was no longer pointed at her, but at the ground.  Lavish was shaking.

“How?” she repeated.

“Try to connect with your neighbors.  Saints, Lavish, we were a community.  Even though I was away a lot, at school or seminary, I always remember getting together outside your shop, listening to you and my mom talk about your foals.  Or watching Oak roll his eyes at your latest attempt to set him up with a cousin or an aunt or an acquaintance.  I remember when the Pepper brothers used to host monthly potlucks in the empty lot next to their house.  Or when we all chipped in with work or bits after Jasmine’s roof collapsed.  We were a community,” she repeated.  “And it should take more than a little snowstorm to break us down and tear us apart, right?”

“What does that have to do with…”

“The real enemy here,” Emberglow interrupted, trying to remember everything she’d heard about the voices.  The Windigoes.  “…is disharmony between ponies.  I’m serious, Miss Lavish.  The more we fear, the more we hate, the stronger this winter will get.  I know it sounds silly, but that’s what’s happening.  The only way to beat it is by reaching out.”

“Is that…why you came here?”  The rifle now hung limply in her hooves.  Emberglow’s heart rate was starting to go back down to normal.

“In a way,” Emberglow said, not wanting to lie.  “There’s more going on here than just that.  But that’s one of the reasons, yes.  This winter hurts everypony, and we intend to stop it if we can.”

“Who is we?” Lavish asked, a little suspiciously.  “Your parents…”

“Are not heretics,” Emberglow interrupted.  “They were innocent.  They thought I was dead.  My choices are not theirs.  But that doesn’t matter to the Mystics sometimes.  You know that, right?  The way the entire street went quiet when Oak was taken?  Guilt by association is very real to them.”

“I don’t want to hear this,” Lavish breathed, terrified.  She glanced between Emberglow and her rifle a few times, eyes darting like a panicked rodent watching for the hawk.  “You have to go.”

“I’ll go,” Emberglow said sadly.  “I was hoping to find out more about what it’s like in the city right now.  To know what to expect.  I have friends out there, Lavish.”

Something in her pleading softened the terror in Lavish’s eyes.  The older mare gulped and nodded.

“Everything I know is second-hoof,” she warned.  Emberglow barely stopped herself from smiling; it was a usual caveat that preceded a Lavish Essence gossip session.  “My sons stopped by on their way out of town, trying to get me to come with them.”  She snorted.  “Not like I’d leave my shop.  It’d be stripped to the nails in an hour.  But they told me that it’s the Vigilants you have to avoid, not the Mystics.”

“The Vigilants?” Emberglow asked dumbly.

“That’s what I said,” she said impatiently.  “According to Stone Ground, they’ve lost their minds.  Most of ‘em are centered around that big Radiant hospital, but there’s squads of ‘em moving about the streets looking for looters and…”

She paused and eyed Emberglow.

“…and heretics.  Discordant.”

The name was spoken at a whisper. 

“They’re executing ponies, Emberglow.  Stone says he saw hanging bodies.”

“What are the Mystics and Adamants doing?  And the Jubilant?” Emberglow asked.

Lavish shrugged.  “I’ve heard nothing of the Jubilant.  But the Mystics and Adamants are trying to fix things, though Stone says he hasn’t seen very many of the inquisitors about.  Mostly just the Blues, and it’s a Saints-blessed thing, too.  They’ve got marines and mercenaries trying to keep order because the Vigilants won’t.  Stone and Glass were trying to avoid ‘em, though, because they’re escorting folks to either the Adamant’s fortress or the Mystic’s building for safety.”

“Why not just tell them to stay in their homes?”

“Homes aren’t safe,” Lavish said with a shudder.  “Not unless we can make ‘em safe.”

Emberglow was quiet for a bit, and Lavish started to glance at the door, expectantly.  Finally Emberglow nodded.

“Okay.  Thank you, Miss Lavish.  This will help me find my friend.”  She paused again.  “I meant what I said about banding together.  We were a community here.”

“It’s really that simple?” Lavish said, with a twist of her muzzle as she stepped towards the door.

“No,” Emberglow said honestly.  “But it’ll help.”

She reached for the door handle, and stepped out into the snow once again.


*   *   *   *   *


Lavish’s information had helped.  If the Adamants were herding refugees towards the Star Shine building, then at least she had a reason, or an excuse, to head in that direction.

The Mystics had taken Rarity, and it was the most likely place to start her search. 

It was a sense of determination that pushed her through the snowy street.  The wet and the cold bogged her hooves down, seeping into her clothing and creeping up her legs.  It was insidious, and her limbs were numb before she realized just how cold she was.  Hypothermia would be a concern, if she had to be out here much longer.

More than once she thought of flying.  But the city’s buildings were blocking the intense blow of the wind.  Up above she could see the snow flying sideways.  Between that and the limited visibility, trying her wings would probably be counterproductive at best.

As she pressed forward through the deepening snow, she whispered a silent mantra.  In days past it may have been a prayer to the Saints.  Perhaps it still was a prayer, in her own way.

“Heartwing will be safe.  He’s clever and resourceful, and he doesn’t think about things the same way everypony else does.  He’s unpredictable.  Terminus will be safe.  He’s fast and he’s smart, and he’s got a good head for assessing a situation.  Lofty will be safe.  He’s always been the most skilled and strongest of my friends, even in Seminary.  And he knows this city well.  Topaz will be safe.  She’s got a sharp mind, and she understands how ponies think.  And she’ll keep hope alive in her heart and a smile on her face no matter what.”

It wasn’t the same words every time, but Emberglow kept reassuring herself over and over.  Her friends were safe, her friends were alive, her friends were trying to find her and help her.

It was an uncomfortable endeavor; on the one hoof, she knew she didn’t have the evidence to back up her surety.  On the other hoof, the conviction in her words made the chill seem less deadly.

As she moved through New Canterlot’s Merchant District, Emberglow couldn’t help but feel like an alien presence in her own hometown.  She’d lived in the capital since she’d gotten her cutie mark, but this place was not the place she’d grown up in.  It was too quiet, too cold, too monochrome.  Only every so often she would see furtive signs of life.

There was evidence, too, of what Lavish had told her about the Vigilants.  Here or there she found the marks of violence; a spot of pink snow where blood had been shed, or bullet holes in walls.  In the distance, in the direction of Diamond Home, she could occasionally hear the sounds of firearms, though it was sporadic. 

She was nearly out of the District when she saw the first of the bodies.

Emberglow was no stranger to violence or corpses.  From the pirate hunting ship, to Manehatten, from Jubilation to Old Canterlot, she’d seen plenty of death.  But something about seeing a pair of ponies leaning against a wall, with blood sprayed out on the bricks behind them, filled her with disgust.  This was New Canterlot.  There wasn’t supposed to be this level of violence here.

She couldn’t make out too many details, but someone had written ‘die looters’ on the wall behind them.  She passed quickly before she could get too close a glimpse of the victims’ faces.  It helped that the snow was already mostly covering them.

Those bodies weren’t the last.  Street after street, the closer she drew to the center of town the more remnants of violence Emberglow saw.  A corpse hanged from a lamppost.  An entire city block burned to soggy ashes.  Hateful graffiti everywhere, accusing of petty crimes and heresies alike. 

But now she was seeing the living, too; here or there signs of life.  Ponies darting around corners, ponies rushing to hide from her view.  She even saw a pair of mares darting out of an empty shop, carrying large sacks over their shoulders.  They made eye contact with Emberglow, staring at her defiantly before dashing away.

“You there!  Freeze!”

The call came just after the two looters disappeared.

“Yes, you, mare.”

Emberglow turned to look.

“I said freeze!”

The voice was young and male.  Through the snow, Emberglow saw a stallion, in a uniform she did not recognize.  It was military, for sure, but instead of blue and gold it was a darker crimson, nearly black in the storm.  He carried a bayoneted rifle, aimed right at her.  A mercenary, she guessed.

“Sir!  I found a looter!”

More ponies came around the corner; a tall stallion in a similar red uniform, and an earth pony mare.  The stallion looked hard, with wiry muscles and facial scarring, probably from a blade of some kind.  He had brown fur and a short, severe military-cut white mane. The mare looked just as intense, but with fewer many scars.  Her own dark mane was tied back underneath a knitted hat.

“Then shoot her,” the stallion scowled.  “If she was looting, those are our orders.”

“Was she, though?” the mare asked, and the stallion peered at Emberglow.

Emberglow’s muscles tensed, ready to leap into the air as quickly as possible, or perhaps around the corner of a building.

“She doesn’t have bags of contraband.  She hasn’t been wounded from fighting.  Looks like a refugee to me.”

The older stallion nodded after a moment.  “Probably right, Precious.  Stand down, kid.  You!  Pegasus mare!  Rioter or refugee?”

Obviously there was only one right answer, even though technically she was neither. “Refugee!” she called out.  “Trying to make it to the Star Shine building.  I heard it was safe.”

“Approach slowly.  No sudden moves,” the mare called.

Emberglow steeled herself.  This is what she wanted, right?  To join some of the refugees and get into the Mystic’s headquarters.  But joining with other ponies meant she would have to lie, something she’d never quite been the best at.

But she stepped forward anyway, moving towards the three ponies.  When she reached them, the young soldier looked nervous, the mare looked curious, and the leader looked… still very tense.

“Terminal Blast, captain of the Red Ruin,” he said tersely.  “We’ve been conscripted to act as street security by the Adamants.  So that’s where our orders and our money come from.  And those orders are ‘shoot the looters, and drag the refugees back to the places of safety’.  I don’t have time to argue or convince, so if you want to be safe, you come with me, shut up, don’t ask questions, and follow my orders, or Precious’ orders here.”  He indicated the mare, who nodded.  “Other than that, I don’t care who you are or what you do.  Got it?”

“Yes sir,” she said.  It was automatic.  There was something in his voice that reminded her of Delver, and she felt a pang of grief.

“That’s a good start,” Blast said.  “Fall in, refugee.”

"We'll offer the most safety you'll likely get,” the mare, Precious, said.  Her words were harsh, but Emberglow saw a glimmer of compassion behind her amber eyes.  “Keep your head down, follow orders, and you'll live to see another day.  Understood?"

“Yes, ma’am.  Are there lots of refugees?” she asked.

“A few,” Precious said as they moved around the corner of the building into an alleyway.  “Most ponies are bunkered down in their homes, or have evacuated.  The Adamants are setting up camps to the south of the city, but it’s too far to go in this storm for those of us near the center of town.  So we’re gathering at the Star Shine building, or the Shield of the Heavens for those who are closer.  Sir North Wind has commandeered every military unit and mercenary band in the city to make this happen.”

She lifted a hoof towards Emberglow, a strange twist in her muzzle, before patting her awkwardly on the back.  It seemed out of place for the militant mare, and Precious seemed to realize it quickly before retracting her hoof.  “Don’t worry.  This will all be over soon, I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” Emberglow said.

They walked a little ways down the alley before it opened into a wider space behind several buildings.  Emberglow could see a dozen or so more red-uniformed ponies, guarding three times as many huddled, shivering figures.  Emberglow was surprised; she hadn’t imagined there would be this many.

“How many still out on patrol?” Blast barked at one of the ponies in red. 

She saluted. “Only two teams, Drei and Sieben, haven’t checked in yet, sir.”

“Any signs of combat?”

“No sir.”

“Good.  You lot!” he shouted to the refugees.  “We’ll be moving soon.  Keep resting for now, but be ready to move your asses as soon as the patrols are in.  New mare, with the others.  Stay behind my soldiers and you’ll be safer.”

There were no groans or complaints from the refugees; Emberglow could see exhaustion and relief on all of their faces.  There was, in fact, very little speaking between them.  She moved to the middle, standing next to a young family, a father and three foals who eyed her suspiciously.  On her other side was an older grandmotherly mare.

“You sit tight, dearie, and we’ll be safe and warm before you know it,” the old mare said with a grin.  “These boys and girls seem rough, but they’re good at heart.”

“Thanks,” Emberglow said, a little distracted.  She was looking around the ponies gathered.  There were a few that were bandaged, some that limped as they moved around.  The older mare next to her even had a dirty bandage wrapped around her eye.  “Um?” she said, trying to wave a hoof to get Precious’ attention.  The leader, Blast, seemed occupied chatting with some of his soldiers.  Precious looked her way, curious and wary.

“What?”

“I have some medical experience, and some of these ponies are wounded.  Do you mind if I see if anypony needs any help?”

“What kind of medical experience?” Precious asked.

Lying felt impossible.  But the truth was just as difficult.

“I’ve been to med school,” she said, her ears drooping a little at the incomplete truth.  But there was something that sparked in the other mare’s eyes, a hint of sympathy.

“You can look, but don’t expect to do much,” Precious said.  “Like the captain told you, we have to be ready to move soon.  We have many more streets to sweep and many blocks to go on our way back to the Star Shine building, so there won’t be time for a lot of treatments.”

“I understand,” Emberglow said.  She turned first to the old mare at her side.

“Kind of you, doctor,” the old mare said.  “Only don’t worry about Old Granny Emerald’s eye.”  She motioned to the bandage on her head.  “It’s fine, even though it vexes me.  Had it bandaged up by a nice young doctor just like you.  Named Marchioness, though she didn’t like the name much.”

Emberglow stared for a moment in shock, before remembering to close her mouth.  She remembered.  A wounded Discordant, with a bandage over his eye and an emerald mane, named Vex.

“Of course,” Emberglow said, off balance.  “But if you were wounded before, why are you out here?”  She had no idea how to ask the questions she wanted answers to without exposing both of them.

“Sometimes a pony’s gotta do hard things,” ‘Granny Emerald’ said vaguely.  “Here, lemme help.  Us experienced types gotta keep an eye on you reckless younger ones.  It’s an element of age, I think.”

Vex was better at this than she was.  The use of the word element was awkward.  Was he here for her, because she was an element?  But how would the other Discordant have known where she was?  And why was it only him?  Her mind raced.

“Well, don’t go on woolgathering, dearie.  You’ve got a duty to do, don’t you?  I’ll just toddle behind you and help with whatever you’ve got going on.”

She thought she understood the message being sent. 

“Thank you, Granny Emerald,” Emberglow said shakily.  It was comforting to know that even in this bizarre situation, separated from her friends and in enemy territory, she had backup.  Comforting, and a little frightening; what if she couldn’t maintain the ruse Vex had created?

As she moved among the capital refugees, at first they eyed Emberglow with suspicion.  She fully understood.  These ponies had been uprooted from their homes, into an uncertain situation, and put in danger by the very ponies that were supposed to protect them.

But after a few soft words and a little coaxing Emberglow was able to do some preliminary exams while they waited.  Most of the injuries among them weren’t serious, though a few needed bandages changed.  She was silently grateful for remembering to bring her father’s old first aid kit, and equally grateful that the supplies inside were fresh, even if the case outside was old.  Her father had always kept up with that habit.

As time went on, though, there was always a sensation of worry in the back of her head.  Time spent here was time lost, and Rarity was in danger.  Each wound she stitched, each bandage replaced, was another second where she could be coming to harm.

But there was no other way.  The refugees all told the same story; the Star Shine building, as well as the Adamant’s Shield of the Heavens, were heavily guarded.  The best chance she had of getting inside was with a group like this.  She hated it, but forced herself to have patient.

In a way, it was much like the days on the Lady Elegant.  On the ship there had been weeks of nothingness, followed by a burst of activity.  The Outpost had been the same.  She wondered if this was the struggle all soldiers had to deal with.  Ultimately, though, the best thing to do was to push forward and keep her mind, and hooves, busy.

‘Granny Emerald’ stayed with her, a not-so-silent shadow, chattering away in her disguise as an old grandmother, dispensing advice and filling the silence when Emberglow’s patients wouldn’t speak.  It was as if he knew exactly how to ease the tension she felt.  He was the more experienced Knight, after all, and she felt glad for his presence.  As she worked, she felt less anxious and more hopeful.  They’d move soon, and she’d be able to find Rarity and keep her safe.

Maybe, though, it wasn’t just the chatter that was helping.  Maybe it was something more.  Heartwing had said something about the Windigoes being repulsed by things like friendship and harmony.  If this winter really was their doing, it stood to reason that acts of kindness, and expressions of loyalty and friendship, would serve to push them back.

Perhaps it was her imagination, but this small alleyway clearing started to feel warmer.

The worst injury was a broken hoof.  The teenaged colt was stoically trying to pretend he wasn’t in pain, even though it was obvious he was favoring the limb as he walked.  Emberglow set his leg and splinted it.

“You’re going to need to see another healer as soon as possible, somepony who can give you a real cast,” Emberglow told him sternly as she did the best she could to sort out a temporary splint for the colt.  “I’m sure there will be somepony at the Star Shine building.”

She tried not to think about the fact that there would be very few Mystics specializing in medicine, and those few were likely too busy.  The Radiants, of course, would not be available.

“Yes, ma’am,” the kid said.

“Meanwhile, keep doing what you’re doing, and don’t put any weight on it.  It’s going to—”

A commotion coming down the alley interrupted her.  Two ponies, carrying a third between them.  The third was slumped and unconscious.

Captain Blast was quick to move over.  “Report!” he demanded.

“Team Drei is lost, sir.  Dead.  We happened upon them on our way back.”  The refugees began to murmur fearfully. “We don’t know if it was looters or…”

The mercenary left the rest of his sentence unsaid.  Blast nodded firmly.

“Right.  How’d Hoplite get wounded?”

“We took some fire as we were trying to retrieve their bodies, sir.  Hoplite got hit.” the mercenary said, his ears drooping.  S’why we think it’s looters hiding in abandoned buildings.  The…uh…Vigilants don’t use guns usually.  We thought it best to retreat.”

“Right call,” Blast grunted.  “Where were the fallen?”

“Corner of Jasper Street and Twenty-Seventh,” he replied.  Blast pursed his lips in thought, looking with a scowl at the assembled refugees.

“We have a duty,” Precious reminded him, stepping up.

“Yeah.  A duty to our own,” he said.  “Not necessarily to extra baggage.”

None of the refugees seemed upset enough at the disparaging remarks to say much about it.

“They’re dead,” Precious said.  “They’re not going anywhere.  We’ll be back.”

“I don’t like leaving my own behind,” Blast growled, but shook his head.  “Okay, you lot.  Up and moving, we’re shifting to the alley behind the Opal Street Cathedral.  It’s seven blocks away, so keep your heads down, move as fast as you can, and stay behind my soldiers.  You, new mare.  You’re a medic?  Take a look at my soldier while everypony else gets ready to go.”

Emberglow didn’t need long; the wound was serious, but not life-threatening.  She checked his breathing and did her best with her limited tools.

“I think he’ll be okay, captain,” Emberglow said as she started to bandage up the bleeding gunshot wound.  “A through-and-through, I can see entrance and exit wounds.  I think it mostly just hit muscle, though you’re going to want one of the Adamant’s medics to give it a closer look when you can.  He should be fine to walk, if he stays off the wounded leg.”

“Good,” Blast said gruffly.  “Hoplite, you heard the mare.  Stay with the civvies for now.  New mare, you stay close to him.  I don’t want another of my ponies to fall on this damned fool patrol.” Hoplite nodded through gritted teeth, and Emberglow spared a glare for the captain.  Did he not care about the work he was doing?  The civilians?

But there was no time, nor did she have the energy to argue back at him.  With a call from Blast, the group moved out, thinning to rows of two or three to squeeze through the alley before widening out into the street beyond. 

“Goodness, this is all so frightening,” ‘Granny Emerald’ said at her side.  “I do hope everypony will be safe.”

“Do you have family in town, Miss Emerald?” Emberglow asked carefully as they ran.  She was finding moving as a group much easier; the Red Ruin soldiers tramped down the snow, while the refugees moved through the paths they trailblazed.  “Siblings, perhaps?”

“Oh, yes, a few,” Vex said.  “And call me Granny, young mare.  I didn’t go through five foals and fifteen grandfoals to be called ‘miss’ by some young tart.”  There was no asperity in Vex’s affected voice, and Emberglow found herself smiling at his commitment to his role.  “But I do have some siblings who tried to come to town to help out when all this ruckus started.  Don’t quite know where they ended up, but they’re scattered about, if ya know where to look.”

“Do you know what they’re up to?”

“Oh, working on ways to help, if they can.  A lot like you are.  Say, what are you up to all by yourself?  Don’t you have friends or siblings?”

“I hope to find them,” Emberglow admitted.  “But my priority is the Star Shine building.”

“Sounds like a friend of mine,” Vex said, nodding.  “She lost a diamond once, and couldn’t be bothered to do anything else until we’d all banded together to find it.  Well, whatever your ‘diamond’ is, I’ll help you find it, young miss.”

He really was good at this.  Perhaps she’d have to spend some time later talking to the spies and operatives after all of this action had calmed down.

Or maybe she’d retire.

The thought filled her with a sudden sense of longing so powerful that her eyes brimmed with tears.  Herself and Rarity, not on an adventure, not fighting, not running for their lives or questing for Elements, just… at peace.  Cuddling before a fireplace in their own home.  Spending time with their friends.

Maybe even foals, someday.

It was enough to make her stumble as they ran.  Vex reached out a helpful hoof.

“You okay, missy?”

“Yes,” Emberglow said, her voice rough.  “Just… imagining what things might be like when all this is over.  Imagining what life will be like when there’s no fighting, no… no running and hiding, no… none of this.”

“Hang on to that hope,” Vex said, his own emotion cutting through the affected voice and his disguised face.  Emberglow blinked tears and stared at him.  “Having a home to go back to at the end of the day is a powerful thing, and it can get you through a lot.  Even all of this.”


*   *   *   *   *


The next few hours were frustrating.  Twice more the unlikely caravan stopped so that Blast and his soldiers could sweep the streets, patrolling for more refugees.  There was one more skirmish with looters, ending with Team Fünf returning bloodstained with grim faces, but no significant injuries.  Emberglow had no desire to ask what had happened to them.

Only a few more lost souls joined their group, and she saw to their injuries as best she could.  Most ponies had bruises from encounters with looters.  Most, also, had stories.

As the other refugees started to open up to her, it was the stories that frightened Emberglow the most.

There was a common thread; ponies they had known for years, neighbors, friends, and family members, suddenly losing their minds.  They started responding to voices that were not there, and began lashing out at others.  It began with mistrust and accusations of betrayal, before shifting to violence.

With ears pinned and faces full of shame, some of the refugees even admitted to hearing the voices themselves.

Emberglow told them all the same thing.  Do not listen, do not give in, and open yourself to trust, love, friendship.

It was harder to do than it sounded, especially when she heard them sometimes herself.

But the presence of other ponies, and the nearby support of a hidden Discordant, was enough for now to keep them at bay.  That, and the knowledge that Bubblegum was with her, somehow, even though she kept silent.

After the second stop, Blast announced to the group that their next would be the Star Shine building.  Emberglow expected to hear expressions of relief, but those around her mostly just nodded in their exhaustion.  Just like before, they set out in one last march through the snow.

The chaos came with no warning.  One moment the entire group was rushing down the street.  The next, a group of four Vigilants, with ragged cloaks and blood-spattered armor, burst around the corner.

Emberglow found herself reaching for something to defend herself with; her shield, or a spear.  But she’d brought no weapons, and her gauntlet was hidden in her saddlebag for obvious reasons.

The Vigilants never even hesitated.  The one in front was a middle aged mare with a disheveled mane, a bent and dented helmet, and a crazed expression in her eyes.

“Traitors will be put to death!” she shrieked, her banshee wail carrying a haunting impression of the howling of wind.  She charged forward, spear raised before any of the Red Ruin mercenaries could level their rifles or set their bayonets.  The other three behind her, just as crazed-looking as their leader, charged in right behind her, with the one in the back raising his gauntlet to start casting a spell.

To his credit, Captain Blast wasn’t surprised for long.  His reflexes were on point as he dashed forward to meet the mare’s charge.  He used his own rifle like a spear, knocking hers aside far enough that the blade only grazed his shoulder deeply, rather than piercing his innards and sending him on a quick trip to his next incarnation.

Emberglow tensed, as if to move forward and join in to help.

“Woah, missy.  Remember you’re a civilian,” ‘Grandma Emerald’ said, putting a restraining hoof on Emberglow’s shoulder.  It took a moment for her brain to catch up to what Vex was saying.  They had to maintain cover.

“But…”

“Be ready, because I’m sure there will be injuries,” he said softly.

“They’re Knights, though,” Emberglow said, as more Red Ruin mercenaries started to form a line in front of the refugees.  She noticed nopony was firing their rifles; that meant they had training.  Bullets would have been a liability, possibly even ricocheting off armor to hit an ally.  “We should…”

“We should be ready to help if they need us,” Vex finished for her.  “These soldiers know their work.  We’ll be fine.”

But Emberglow wasn’t so sure.  Blast was trading blows with the Vigilant leader, and it was obvious that they were well matched in skill.  This meant their contest may come down to strength, something the magically-enhanced Knight would naturally have more of.

Blast was on the defensive, dexterously turning away the wild stabbing of the Vigilant’s spear with the body of his rifle.  In contrast to her crazed thrusts, his expression was calm and cold.

Meanwhile, though, his soldiers were not doing so well.  The Knight in the rear finished his spell, striking the ground with his hooves.  The ice and snow cracked and shook, as the ground underneath their very hooves became unstable, shaking and trembling.  Emberglow could barely keep upright, and many of the refugees tumbled to the ground, crying out in fear and alarm.  Icicles and other debris fell off of nearby buildings, some striking the unsuspecting ponies below.

The Knight began to cast again.

“We have to stop him,” Emberglow said.  “But how?”

“Here,” Vex said, passing over a small object.  It was a broken segment of icicle, about the size of an apple.  Emberglow grabbed it, pausing just long enough to take aim, before hurling it at the casting Knight’s head.

It missed, but the Knight paused for a moment to glare at her.

“Hey, y’all, Miss Medic has the right idea!” Vex called out to the other civilians.  Few of them poked their heads up, but enough did.  The young colt with the broken hoof, as well as the wounded mercenary Hoplite, and a few of the others, reached down to pick up chunks of ice or dirty snow, hurling them in a makeshift artillery barrage at the distant Knight.

It wouldn’t do much damage with his armor, but it kept him ducking, holding up a hoof to defend himself from the downpour.

“Traitors and heretics, all of you!” the lead Knight howled, battering away at Blast’s defenses.  “String you up!  Spill your guts!  Paint the snow red!”

Emberglow was close enough to see the spittle flying from her mouth, and the glazed look in her eyes.  She was a madmare, and her fellow Knights were little different.

“What is happening?” one of the refugees gasped.  “Why are they like this?”

“They’re not Knights any longer,” Vex responded.  “They’re lost, to the voices on the wind.”

Many of the refugees recoiled in fear, even as the line of mercenaries started to buckle.  One of them fell under the spear of a Knight, his blood gushing into the snow.  A second was knocked to the ground senseless by the shaft of a spear.  Another mercenary tried to close the gap but the Knights rushed in, knocking mercenaries aside as they pushed into the gap towards the civilians.

“They need help!” Emberglow cried, as Precious cried out in pain as a spear sliced into a forehoof and Blast was steadily pushed back.  Emberglow tore open her saddlebags, ripping out the gauntlet and slamming it onto her hoof.

At her side, Vex winced, his lips pressed together in a frown as he threw back the tattered robe that disguised his own gauntlet.

Together the two began casting, with shouts of alarm from the refugees on all sides.

“Don’t let up!” Vex called firmly, still with Grandma Emerald's crackle.  “Keep the pressure on the one in the back!”  He spoke as he cast, and as soon as his runes were completed a short but wicked looking glowing orange blade extended from his forehoof.  Emberglow recognized the spell as one of Mercy’s favorites.

She completed her own spell, a variation of the same hard-light spell family, though she’d made herself a shield rather than a blade.  With no other hesitation she lunged forward alongside Precious, while Vex clung close to her side, his own blade flashing towards the Knights pushing into the gap.

Precious spared a shocked glance at Emberglow, but quickly refocused on the fight.  Emberglow did her best to guard Precious’ left side, knocking the rabid Knight’s spear aside with every thrust.

“Run,” she told the Knight, whose eyes flicked to her.  They were full of senseless rage.  Emberglow wasn’t sure he even heard her.  “Run and spare yourself.  Please.  There’s no reason—"

“Beware the words of the heretic!” he wailed mindlessly as his spear battered her shield.  “Her words are poison!  Her actions are chaos!  Her—”

But Precious had used the distraction of Emberglow’s words and shield in order to find an opening.  The Knight cut off in a gurgle as her bayonet slipped underneath his criniere and into his flesh.

He barely bled.  Emberglow noticed, with growing horror, that the Knight’s nose and ears were frostbitten, and his breath wasn’t fogging in the cold. 

On her own left, Vex had already knocked his opponent to the ground.  He was charging towards the caster, who was just now trying again after the rain of ice and snowballs was letting up.  

It didn’t take long for Vex to slide up alongside the Vigilant, who shied back with a scream.  His bladed hoof knocked aside the Vigilant’s helmet, before Vex punched him in the face with a crunch of bone.  He fell without another sound. Further away, Emberglow heard a muffled wet explosion, and jerked her head up in time to see the last Vigilant falling.  

Blast was standing over the corpse of his opponent.  There was a smoking hole in the Vigilant’s armor and torso, and Blast was pushing a pair of blood-stained goggles.

There was only a moment of silence.

“R-red Ruin,” Captain Blast said, panting to catch his breath. He drew a small device from his uniform.  It looked like a cross between kettle weight and a clothes iron.  An explosive of some sort, she was sure. “Shoot the heretics.”

For a single, horrified second, Emberglow thought he meant for his own men to execute the fallen Vigilants.  At least two of them were dead already, she was certain.  But then a dozen or so rifles leveled her way.

Vex slowly made his way up to her side.

“Please,” Emberglow said, raising her shield to try and cover them both.  It wouldn’t be enough; neither one of them was wearing armor.

“We have orders,” Blast said coldly.  “Don’t engage the Yellows if there’s any danger.  But if you have an opportunity, shoot to kill.”

The temperature dropped noticeably, a cold blast of wind strong enough to make the terrified civilians, and even a few mercenaries, cry out in shock.  Emberglow tried to think of something to say.  She wanted to beg, to appeal to their mercy, or to the fact that she and Vex just helped them in their fight.

But no words came, her voice and thoughts abducted by the icy wind.

But the hail of bullets she expected didn’t come.  There was something in the Captain’s expression, something curious.  His eyes were unfocused, and his mouth moved silently.

Like he was talking to somepony.

Or perhaps speaking with a voice that wasn’t there.

Suddenly Emberglow knew what she had to say.

She dropped her shield spell, exposing them both more than they were.  Vex gave a small cry of alarm, but Emberglow ignored him.

“You hear them, don’t you?  The same voices that drove these poor Knights to madness.”

Blast scowled, stepping back, but he held up a hoof.  Rifles lowered.

“It’s not in your head, Captain,” Emberglow said, stepping forward.  “You’re not crazy.  I promise.  You’re completely normal.  And you’re not the only one.”

She raised her voice.  “Who else hears the voices of murder on the wind?”  Nearly half of the ponies, civilians and mercenaries both, flinched.  “Who else watched a friend or a loved one give in?  Who else saw what it did to them?  Who else was close enough to look into the eyes of these Vigilants as they attacked us for no reason?”

“But…you’re Discordants,” Blast hissed.  “This is all your fault.  You created this.  And I have orders.”

“What are they telling you right now?” Emberglow said, as the demonic whispers began to claw at the edges of her own mind.  Desperation filled her voice.  “What are they telling you to do?  What do they want you to do?  These ponies became their puppets.  Is that what you want for yourself?”

Blast’s gaze flickered down to the dead Vigilant at his hooves, then back up to Emberglow.  His hard eyes widened in shock.

“What… what is that?”

Emberglow was glowing.  Or, rather, her Element was, from underneath her gambeson.

“We didn’t come here to hurt you.  We didn’t cause this carnage.  We’re here to clean it up,” she said.  “To fix it, so all you ponies can go back to your peaceful lives.”

Vex was nodding alongside her, though his eyes were also on the glow emanating from her chest.  With one hoof, she carefully pulled the gemstone out from her clothing so that everypony could see its light.

“This… this is the Element of Honesty.”  She’d never claimed it out loud.  Not to other ponies.  She hated how arrogant it felt.  It was like her noble title, or like the way her parents had treated her after her Knighting.

She never wanted to be more than others.

“Once borne by Saint Applejack herself.  Now, we’ve been summoned back here to deal with this winter, and the foul violence and bloodshed that’s descended on your city.  Yes, I am Discordant.”  The gem pulsed, as if agreeing with her.

And her honesty.

“Yes, that’s what I am.  But I mean you no harm.  And I never have.”

It pulsed again. 

“No!  I… I have orders.  I cannot… you are Yellows, I have to… yes, I know… yes, I see them, they must… yes, I… no, I… but…”

Blast’s eyes darted about, blinking rapidly.  Emberglow watched him as he seemed to flicker back and forth between madness and sanity.

“Please,” Emberglow said, praying her voice reached him.  He continued to argue with phantoms only he could hear, his mutters silently fading as his rifle tip once again rose to point at her.

His bayonet glinted in the feeble light of the street lamps.

“Please let me help you.”

“I…I…I…”

He pulled the trigger.

Emberglow waited for the hot iron of pain.  But there was nothing.

Precious had dashed through the snow, shoving the barrel of the rifle up.  The shot had gone into the clouds, high and harmless.

"She's right,” Precious grunted, sounding surprised at her own actions.  “It sounds insane, but she's right.  The voices... we have to fight them."

“How?” Blast sounded desperate.

“Love,” Emberglow said automatically.  “Kindness, loyalty, laughter.  Honesty and generosity.  Towards all ponies, not just the ones on one side or the other.”

“Saints… saints, they’re right,” one of the mercenaries breathed. “Can’t you feel it, captain?”  He lowered his rifle.  “It’s… getting warmer.  Saints, I’m not making that up, am I?  I’m not crazy.”

He wasn’t.  The glow of the Element of Harmony was noticeably warming the air around them, driving back the snow.

“I… I didn’t realize,” another soldier said.  “I thought I was losing it.  Going mad.  I held off doing what they were saying, the voices, but now…” his eyes glowed with wet tears.  “…now they’re quiet.  For the first time in hours.  Days!”

One after another, each rifle lowered slowly until there was no longer a forest of gleaming death pointed at the two Discordants.  Finally Blast slumped as well, and would have fallen if Precious hadn’t caught him.

“Harmony keeps them at bay.  It’s the only way,” she said, Vex nodding in wonder alongside her.  “Harmony between ponies.  Not violence.  You can’t fight them that way.  You never will.  You—”

“Saints!  These ponies are… are still alive!”

It was one of the mercenaries.  His cry of alarm cut through Emberglow’s speech, and she looked over.  He was pointing at the downed Vigilant that Precious had stabbed.

Emberglow rushed over.

“Wait!” Blast called out harshly.  “What are you doing?”

“I told you,” Emberglow said calmly, ignoring the rifle that was once again pointed her way.  “Kindness keeps them at bay.  Even between enemies.”

She started casting; she didn’t waste time on diagnosis, instead addressing the obvious wound to the pony’s throat.  First one spell to knit the wound, then a second to restore lost blood.  A third diagnosis spell showed that the pony was stable, although he’d likely never speak again.  Even his frostbite seemed to be clearing up, far too rapidly to make sense.

The wind had nearly stopped.  Snow was melting all around them.

“These two are fine, just unconscious.  Though this one’s gonna have to get surgery for a broken muzzle.”

Meanwhile, Vex had moved, working quickly on the two he had downed.

That left the one Blast had taken out.  Emberglow took one glance to realize she was beyond saving, though she still cast a diagnosis spell while Blast and the others looked on, stunned.

“Dead,” she said sadly.  Blast nodded, looking completely off balance.

“What now?  What do we do with them?” he whispered, gesturing to the unconscious Vigilants.

“If we are successful, I think they’ll be fine.  If not...”

Emberglow shrugged, trailing off.  There wasn’t more that needed to be said about that.

“I would put them in one of these buildings.  I doubt they’ll be in a state to come after you again.  Especially if we move on quickly.”

“Why?”  Suspicion crept back into the captain’s voice.  “Why do you want to go to the Star Shine building so badly?  What’s there for you Yellows?”

“I hope there’s a chance to put an end to all this,” Emberglow said.  “I have a friend there… a… my marefriend.  I need to see that she’s safe.  And she’s a part of all this, I think.”

The Element of Honesty pulsed again.  The air got warmer.

Blast stared at her for several breaths.  Emberglow felt pierced by his regard.

"Saints, you're... yer speakin truth..." Blast breathed, a hint of a country drawl leaking through his usually clipped tone.  Then his eyes narrowed as he collected himself.  “Very well.  Rangefinder, Swordfish, Blossomburst?  Get these three Vigilants into that farrier’s shop over there.  The rest of you, triage on the wounded.  Worst cases come see Miss Yellow here.  You,” he glared at her, “are our medic until we get to the building.  We’ll keep your secret, both of you, as long as you don’t cause trouble and follow orders.  You civilian lot?  You heard all of this.  Any one of you that even thinks about betrayal or turning in our best hope of getting out of this alive, and we’re all going to be ponycicles.  I’ll shoot ya myself before I let that happen.”

“I can be your medic, sir,” Emberglow said, as the Red Ruin scrambled to follow Blast’s orders.  Emberglow glanced at her battery.  It was about half full.  “I don’t have much left, though.”

“Do what you can,” Blast barked, before turning his cold gaze towards the mangled corpse of the Vigilant.


*   *   *   *   *


The rest of their march through the snow was mostly silent.  Blast was clearly dealing with some difficult thoughts.  Precious kept glancing back at the two of them, looking contemplative and worried.  The civilians now shied away from them, but not too far; as if they wished to be close to the warmth that seemed to encase them in a bubble, yet far enough away to not be tainted by the presence of heretics.

It did mean she and Vex could have a more open conversation.

“As soon as the five of you disappeared from your spell, Lady Snow ordered every able-bodied Knight into town.  Each one of us has orders to spread out in small teams, or solo for experienced infiltrators, to look for the Elements and keep them safe,” Vex said.  “It’s really just pure coincidence that I found you.”

“Coincidence?  Or Harmony?” Emberglow said.  “Whatever it was, I’m lucky you were with them.  I’d have probably gotten myself killed.”

“You’re more resourceful than you think,” Vex said.  “This?  Getting them all on your side even after you blew our cover?  I don’t know if I could have done that.”

“Thanks,” Emberglow said.  “But you’re great at this.  Disguises, infiltration.  Why are you still in character?  They know we’re Discordant.”

“Sometimes, it’s still useful to wear a mask,” Vex said. 

“So what next, after we get to the Star Shine building?”

“I stick by your side, and help you get Rarity out,” he said, but Emberglow was already shaking her head.

“No.  I need a way of reaching out to my friends.  There has to be a way to get in touch with them, to bring us all together.  You have ways of contacting the others?”

Vex flinched.  “Not much that’s reliable.  We have a couple of rendezvous points where one of us will be hiding and gathering news.  Lady Snow has a command post set up, too.  I can check those.”

“I need to know where they are.  But I’m also not going to wait.  I’m going into the Star Shine building to look for Rarity when we get there.”  She paused.  “I need you to make contact with the other Discordants and work with them to try and find the other Elements.”

Vex didn’t like that at all.  It came through clearly even in his disguised, wrinkled expression.  But he nodded reluctantly.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, you going in there on your own,” he said.

Emberglow shook her head.  “I’ll be going in with the other refugees.  I’ll be fine.  Captain Blast has seen what kind of setup they have, it’s a safe place.”

“But if enough people know who you are?” Vex countered.  “The more people that know a secret, the harder it is to keep.”

“I have faith in them,” Emberglow said, touching the gem on her chest.  And she did.  Despite keeping their distance, the other ponies seemed to look at her with a sort of awe.  Maybe they weren’t so afraid of her being a heretic; maybe it was just some strange sort of reverence that kept them away.  She didn’t like it, but she’d accept it.  “I need you to have faith in me.  Find my friends, if you can.  Join up with the other Discordants.”

“You could come with me, help find them yourself,” he tried, though it was obvious from his frown that he already knew the answer. 

“I need to go to Rarity.  And I’ll need backup from my friends.  No offense to you, Vex, but…” she tapped her chest again, and he nodded.

“Got it.  I’ll be quick, then.  Find the other Elements, lead them back to the Star Shine building.  Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” she said, and he saluted, before turning to dart away.

Captain Blast looked up in suspicion.  “Where’s she going?”

“To find the other Elements of Harmony,” Emberglow said.  “We’ll need all of them.  Don’t worry, I’m staying.”

Eyes narrowed, he shot a dark glance at Precious, who nodded.

“If this is some trick, I’ll shoot you,” he said to her.  He did not sound like he was kidding.

“You already know there’s not,” Emberglow noted, and Blast scowled but didn’t contradict her.

It was only a couple more blocks to the Star Shine building.  The refugees were starting to get excited, a palpable sense of relief flowing over them the closer they got to safety.

They finally turned the corner into the plaza in front of the Mystic headquarters, and once again Emberglow was shocked at how alien it all seemed.  The last time she’d been here, the plaza had been busy, full of ponies with all sorts of business; Knights and squires, employees of the various buildings, even pilgrims taking in one of the holiest sites of Saint Twilight.

Now, it was a sea of white, snow trampled down into a hard icy floor by a hundred hooves.  A cordon of purple-armored Knights stood guard outside the front doors, which were closed.  Emberglow could see a few pegasi Mystics stationed on the roof, as well, though nopony was flying.

There was actually less snow here.  For a moment Emberglow took that as a hopeful sign; perhaps somepony in the Star Shine building had realized the way to fight against the unholy winter.  But it became more clear when she and the other refugees stepped fully into the plaza, and she saw the runes glowing through from beneath.  Cold-suppression magics, with riders for wind, snow, and other moisture.  And the runes were already starting to strain and crackle.  They wouldn’t last forever.

The Red Ruin were not the only soldiers guiding refugees into the building; there was already another group at the door, watched over by a trio of Knights Adamant while Mystics moved through their ranks, asking questions and inspecting their belongings.

“Yellow mare,” Blast said beside Emberglow, startling her out of her concentration.  “Give me your gauntlet.  I have a permit for them.  But if they find it on you they’ll ask too many questions.”

She looked at him in shock, and he scowled.  It seemed to be the natural state of his face.

“I’m not doing it to help you.  I’m not your ally, and I won’t listen if you get into trouble and come crawling back to me for help.  Unless, of course, you can match the hazard pay the Adamants are shelling out for my service.  But if you get caught with that thing it’s gonna look bad for me and mine.  So hoof it over.  Once we’re safe inside, I’ll give it back.”

Emberglow paused, and her gaze drifted back to the Mystics interrogating the earlier group of refugees.  There was some sort of altercation in process; an old stallion was arguing loudly with a pair of inquisitors.  Emberglow flinched; the two Mystics were growing impatient, if their body language was anything to go by.  It was hard to tell what they were fighting about, but it became clear when one of the Mystics reached out for the old stallion’s cane, and he yanked back.

Were they confiscating weapons?  Was that the issue?

The tug of war only lasted a few seconds, before the Mystic yanked the cane away, knocking the old pony to the snow.  Even from this far away Emberglow could tell it was a bad fall, and several of the civilians around him began shouting angrily.

Underneath her hooves, the cold-suppression runes pulsed once.  Twice.  They flickered.  Then they broke.

“Ruin, form up in front of the civilians,” Blast ordered warily.  “Tight half-circle.  We…”

Up ahead the civilians surged forward, battering at the two Mystics with their hooves.  The Mystics pushed back, even going as far as to draw truncheons.  Emberglow took a step forward.

“Hold steady, mare,” Blast said.  “This ain’t a scuffle you wanna drown in.”

“But…”

But Emberglow never got to voice her objections.  The descent into madness only took a few seconds.  In one heartbeat, it was only two Mystics with clubs, beating off a small riot.  In the next, dozens of civilians were trampling a small throng of Mystics, who were starting to fight back with spears and spells.  Blood sprayed onto the snow as combatants and innocents alike were caught up in the sudden skirmish. 

Emberglow could already see limp bodies on the ground.

“Saints alive, what is happening?” sobbed a horrified voice next to her; the wounded mercenary Hoplite.  “Sir, what do we…”

“This place isn’t safe,” Blast said.  He sounded resolved; he’d already made a decision.  “We take the civvies somewhere else.  The Shield of the Heavens.”

He didn’t say it out loud, but it was obvious everypony was terrified and thinking the same thing; what if the Adamant headquarters was the same?

“Did you notice, mare?  There’s nopony guarding the door,” Blast said to her with a nod towards the headquarters.  “Are you coming with us?”

“No,” Emberglow said, swallowing hard.  “No. Rarity is in there.”

“Rarity? That’s who you’re after?  The fake saint we all heard the other day?  If she’s in there, she’s the highest security prisoner they’ve got.  Good luck, dead mare.  If you survive, and ever get bored of being a Yellow, there’s always space in the Ruin for crazy.”

“Yes, sir,” Emberglow said automatically.

“Okay, Ruin, we’re turning east.  “Skirt the plaza, I don’t want anypony getting caught up in whatever that is.  And if you start to hear the voices again?  Tell your neighbor and start singing a song, or something.”

As Emberglow started towards the chaos up ahead, one hoof after another, with one more wave of the hoof, the Red Ruin and their civilian charges set off at a quick pace.  They weren’t even out of the plaza before Emberglow heard Blast’s voice again, this time raised in song; a hymn to Saint Applejack.

Emberglow kept humming the same tune in her head.  The further she got from the Ruin, though, the harder it was to hear her own thoughts over the howls of the wind… and the terror that wind brought.

hopeless failure

she’ll be dead before you arrive

stay and taste the red snow, blood on your hooves, your teeth, your tongue

“You’re all getting predictable,” she snarled at the voices, surprising even herself at her anger.  She imagined the sentiment was more of a Heartwing thing than her own usual thoughts, but she was getting tired of the voices on the wind.

Plus, thinking of her friends tended to keep them at bay.

So she tried to channel more of Heartwing as hoofstep followed slow, careful hoofstep towards the Star Shine building.

“Really, there’s no substance to you at all.  I don’t even know if you’re real.  Maybe you’re just all in my head.  Or even some sort of physiological condition.  You could be a hallucination induced by stress, undereating, food poisoning.  You could be something I ate or drank.  There’s more wine than wind to you, after all.”

It sounded very much like something Heartwing would say.

“You really are foolish creatures. Not much of a vocabulary either. Instinct only, I’m guessing,” she continued, finding confidence as she walked.  She could imagine Heartwing at her side, charging towards the building with her.

In a moment she was at a run.

“I mean, your own actions are pointless.  What is your goal?  You make us fight amongst ourselves.  What are we, your prey?  That makes no sense!  If we kill each other off, there will be nopony left to consume!”

It didn’t make sense.  Nor did the falsely cheery tone she affected in imitation of the ancient unicorn.  But Heartwing didn’t always make sense.  It was part of his charm.

Her heart pounded the closer she got to the building.  Emberglow’s medic instincts demanded that she slow down and help the wounded and dying.  But she could not.  There was a bigger picture here, and she steeled herself to run past.

Oddly enough, nopony tried to stop her.  A few noticed her passage, but as she bore no weapon and suggested no violence, there was no threat. 

But looking into the eyes of the ponies she passed caused Emberglow’s breath to catch in her throat, and her stomach to flip with nauseous realization.  The only reason she was being ignored was because the Mystics and refugees were too busy tearing each other apart.

The front doors were slightly ajar, and Emberglow slipped inside to behold even more chaos.

There were hundreds of ponies all crammed into the atrium; each one adding their own voice of fear and anger to the cacophony that echoed off the walls and ceiling.  The civilians outnumbered the Knights by at least twenty to one.  Nervous young Knights clutched at spears and rifles, ready for a spark that would ignite this bed of chaos into violence just like outside.

“Hey!  Who are—” one of the Knights who had been standing at the door, his eyes wide with horror at what was happening outside, moved to challenge Emberglow.  “Nopony is supposed to---”

“What’s your name?” she asked, cutting him off.  He paused, looking startled and confused, his body automatically responding to the authority in her voice.

“…X-Xerarch Dust.  But—”

“You need to stop this before it becomes like what’s out there, Xerarch.  If you don’t want a massacre on your hooves, you’re going to have to start singing.”

There was another flash of orange from her now-hidden Element.  Emberglow noticed, but she wasn’t sure if the Mystic did.

“Sing?  But—”

“A hymn to Saint Twilight.  Something both the Knights and the civilians would know.  Come on!”

She raised her voice and shouted, loud enough that everypony nearby could hear.

“We need to draw together!  We need to hold firm and have faith!”

She hated herself a little for what she was saying, but it was the results that mattered.

“Sir Xerarch is going to lead us in a hymn, to focus our hearts and to drive out fear!” she called out, then looked expectantly at the young Knight.  She lowered her voice.  “And keep singing until the snow starts to melt.  Then, get out of here and head to the Shield of the Heavens.”  She had to hope the Adamant fortress was safer.

Their eyes met.  Emberglow saw fear, distrust, terror.  And then, a spark of hope.

“O-okay.  Everypony, join me in Saint Twilight’s Shine, Hold Back the Night.”

Xerarch was no soloist, but his wavering, off-key voice seemed to fill the atrium for the first few words.  Then, others joined in.  Wind howled through the open door, but singing Mystics and civilians moved to close it.  Emberglow met his eyes one last time, before slipping into the crowd.

He did not follow her.

By the time she made the stairs that would lead to the offices, he was leading the impromptu hymn with one hoof, completely off the beat.

Nopony seemed to notice as they huddled together.

“At least you’ll have a chance,” Emberglow whispered as she headed up the stairs.  Once on the landing, and out of view of the crowd in the atrium, she quickly re-cast her tracking spell.

Blue flooded her blind eye again, pulsing so much stronger than before.  Rarity was here.  Close.  Above.

Steadfast’s office seemed a good enough place to start.

The peace she had managed, was only a temporary peace.  The atrium had been a haven in the madness that was descending on the Star Shine building.  As she passed the landing of the second floor she could see the effects of violence.  Madponies had torn into offices, breaking down doors, scoring the walls with blades, tearing apart furniture.  Broken windows allowed the wind to seep in, and hoarfrost and drifting snow were collecting on every surface.

She tried to ignore the bodies.

It was easier than it should have been; a thought that caused a pang of guilt, accompanied by the murmur of bloodshed on the wind.  It should not have been so easy to step over the still, cold forms of the fallen as she continued up the stairs to the third floor.

Up here, it was just as bad.  Most ponies had succumbed to the voices of violence, and had likely either fled or died.  Emberglow’s heart pounded with terror as she forced herself down the now-unfamiliar hallway.  Each step brought her closer to Steadfast’s old office.  Each pulse of blue light in her blind eye told her she was getting closer, ever closer, to her goal.

But if Rarity was being held here, where were her guards?  Surely she wouldn’t have been left alone?

The door to Steadfast’s office had been knocked open by something, blasted off its hinges.  Emberglow listened at the door long enough to hear…breathing.

Somepony inside was alive.

Eagerness defeated caution.  Emberglow rushed through the door, past the empty secretary station and the bloodstain on the desk, and into Steadfast’s office.

She froze.

failed

too slow

we win

“No…” she moaned.

She had heard breathing.  Rarity was alive, unconscious, on the floor of Steadfast’s office, amidst the debris of his long inquisitorial career.  She ignored broken wood and glass as she moved forward, voices rushing in as despair crushed all of the hope which had buoyed her before.  All her confidence, all her faith, gone in a flash.

Rarity was alive.

But on her forehead, where her horn had once stood, was nothing more than a smooth severed stump.

“Good.  You made it.  I knew she would draw you in.”

She had never heard Steadfast come in.

“Come with me.  There’s little time.”
> Chapter 69
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 69


Excerpt, personal journal, Sir Stratus, Knight Angelic

I was there when the sun set on Diamond Home.

Diarchy faithful will paint it as a dark day, when the demons of Tartarus spewed forth a monster of a mare they’d been taught to fear and hate since they were foals.

Discordant will tell you the clouds parted and a hundred thousand voices raised in glorious hymns of praise, heralding the arrival of a great goddess, the new Princess of the Sun.

I have seen a great deal in my life.  I’ve seen days on the ocean so beautiful my heart wept, where the waves glittered like gems.  I’ve seen storms that came on so strong, and so suddenly, that I was sure I would meet my end.  I’ve seen death and birth, the tallest waves and the deepest seas.

But I’ll never forget what I saw that day.  Even if I don’t know what to make of it.

I’ll tell you one thing, though.  The clouds did part.  And I saw the sun for the first time in weeks.

Old Canterlot, 1113 AF

“Exactly how are we going to get to Diamond Home?” Oak Chips asked Princess Sunset Shimmer, in the tone of a person who already knew the answer.

Some of the myriad books Sunset Shimmer had spent hours reading while under Celestia’s tutelage were dozens of biographies of ancient Equestrian military commanders.  Not because she was assigned them, but because at the time something about military command appealed to her ego.

Of course, now that she’d grown as a person, it didn’t mean she’d abandoned all that knowledge.

She remembered one passage in particular that was written by General Trotton, an earth pony, in the earliest days of Equestria.

“Folding unicorns and pegasi into our ranks meant we had to toss out centuries of conventional wisdom about field intelligence, supply chain management, battlefield positioning, and a host of other things.  I don’t know much about these new tribes, but I know one thing: the Expeditionary Force is stronger, faster, and better equipped to face Equestria’s challenges than ever before.”

The Diarchy had fought without unicorns for centuries.  They were about to find out why this had been a mistake.

“I’m gonna teleport us there,” she said simply.

At her side, her loyal guard eyed her skeptically.  “Right.  All of us?” His tone reflected the impossibility of the task.

Sunset grinned.  She knew just how cocky she looked; she’d perfected the expression ages ago.  “Oak, I’m a sorceress trained at the hooves of both Celestia and Twilight Sparkle, two of the most legendary spellcasters of all time.”  No need to note that her lessons from Twilight had nothing to do with spellcasting and everything to do with friendship.  Celestia’s lessons, too… but she hadn’t listened to those.  “Not only that, but I have the power of the sun at my call.  We’ll get there in style.”

“It’s just jarring to think about,” Oak said.  “I’ve been a spy my whole life.  And now I’m drawing attention to myself.”

He shifted around in his new armor, uncomfortable.

“It looks good on you,” she said, amused.  “When things are a little more settled, we’ll have to look into uniform decorations suitable for your new rank.”

“No, ma’am,” he replied, his eyes widening.  “My first act of official policy.  All decisions regarding Knight Resplendent uniform protocol will be made within the chain of command, not unaffiliated VIPs we may be assigned to protect.”

“I’m not in the chain of command?” Sunset asked.

“You command me.  I command the Resplendent.”  Oak’s voice was firm.  She narrowed her eyes at him, and he shrugged.  “You said it, not me.”

“Funny, you’d think I’d remember making that sort of arrangement.”  It was an inane conversation, and both of them knew it.  But sometimes inane conversation was necessary to keep up hope.

Or to distract ponies from the darkness ahead.

Signs of the coming battles were everywhere.  The Knights Resplendent were putting on armor, readying weapons and gauntlets, and organizing first aid supplies.  Colibri was in her element, her voice raised over the controlled chaos, bringing order and logic to the entropy.  The griffon who had challenged her, Gordon, was busy giving a sermon to the Resplendent.  Sunset was listening with one ear; it sounded pretty good to her, mostly a realistic approach to dealing with the Windigoes.

She liked that the griffon had been brave enough to argue with her, even if he was wrong.

“By the speckled shell of the beloved royal eggs, you’re serious about teleporting, aren’t you?” Oak said as the two of them watched their Knights at work.

“I am.  I can do this.”

“You’ve done it before?”

“Teleported?  Oh yeah.  Tons of times.”

“With over a hundred people at your side?”

Sunset snorted with amusement.  “What do you think?  But I got this.”

“Your experience does little to grow my confidence, Princess,” Oak said.  “What about the spell?”

“Spell?”

“You were briefed, Princess,” Oak said patiently.  “The failing repulsion spell.  The one that has kept alicorns out of the Diarchy for hundreds of years.  The one that Sir Heartwing believes has something to do with the Windigoes.”

“Oh.  That spell.”  Sunset had honestly forgotten about it.  During the too-brief time she’d had to speak with the Empress, Cadance had told her about it.  How it had felt like something solid, a mass of forbiddance and steel; an invisible, cold fortress in her mind.

She’d felt nothing like that.

“I doubt it will be a problem,” Sunset said.  “Not right now, anyway.  I would have felt something like that on the way in.”

“I’m glad you sound so certain,” Oak said, a hint of trepidation in his voice.  “But just in case it’s bravado, I don’t suppose it will make sense to ask what happens when a teleport goes wrong?”

“Wouldn’t make much sense, no,” Sunset said.

In truth, it was bad.  Botched teleportation meant ending up in all sorts of nasty places.  Possibly underground.  Possibly in the air.  But she didn’t need to say that out loud.

“What is your plan, then?”

“Step one,” Sunset said.  “Find an anchor if possible.  I’ll talk to the Angelic ponies.  I’m sure one of them has a sister or a mother or something in Diamond Home.  Maybe more than one.  We use that Harmonic connection as a lodestone to anchor the teleport.  Make it easier.”

“Can you teleport to somewhere you’ve never been?”

“With a good enough anchor?  Yeah, no problem,” Sunset said.  “Step two.  We get everypony in formation.  Something with Knights facing in all directions, weapons outwards?”

“A schiltron,” Oak said helpfully.  “I’ll start getting them into position.  You’re going to teleport us just like that?”

“Yes.  Fliers in the air above, including all of your changelings.  Ground ponies forming the line, fliers filling gaps and keeping any attack from breaking into our lines from above.  Once I ‘port us in, we assess the situation on the ground and push towards Diamond Home.  I mean to break a gap in the siege and hope that the Radiant Grand Master will take the hint and evacuate.”

“We’ll probably want to see if some of the Angelic or Radiant will come with us,” Oak said.  “To convince those inside Diamond Home of our intentions.”

“Good idea.  Send somepony to fetch their leader for me.  I need to talk to her about an anchor anyways.”

Military action, according to Sunset’s education, was complicated, and so much more than just marching troops against the enemy.  There were also a lot of logistics involved.

But as she watched her Knights, her Knights, buzzing about at the command of Colibri and Life Flight, she realized she already had good ponies handling that for her, under Oak’s command.  Oak stayed by her side, but sent a young armored unicorn rushing off to find Ambrosia or one of the other Radiant or Angelic leaders. 

With her preparations ready, there was little left to do but wait.

Sunset hated waiting.  She wanted to act, to move, to do.

The seconds ticked by before she saw a procession of white-armored Knights from both orders approaching the courtyard.  In front was Ambrosia, and she was flanked by two pegasi: Dustoff, who Sunset recognized, and another she did not.

Colibri and Life Flight both moved.  It was subtle, but the two Knights made sure they were between Sunset and Ambrosia.

“Princess,” Ambrosia said, coming to a halt.  “You’re leaving soon?”

“I am, Lady Ambrosia.  And I’m wondering if I can get the help of you and your Knights.”

“We have sworn an oath of peace and neutrality, Princess.  We will not join our forces with yours.”  Ambrosia spoke slowly and firmly.

“That’s not what I want,” Sunset said.  “You know what I’m about to do.  I’m going to break the siege on Diamond Home.  And I plan on teleporting there, from here.”

Sunset felt a wicked rush of pleasure at the incredulity on Ambrosia’s face.

“You…” She was off balance.  “That’s impossible.”

“Not for an alicorn, it’s not,” Sunset replied.  There was a part of her that wanted to remind these modern ponies just what an alicorn could do. “But it will be easier with some help from your ponies.  You’re familiar with spell anchors?”

Ambrosia’s face screwed up in confusion.  “Spell anchors?  Like a sympathetic motic link?”

“I’m sure the terminology has shifted over the years.”  She resisted the urge to make a dig about knowledge lost over centuries of ignorance.  But it was there, at the tip of her tongue.  “But most spellcasting is easier if there’s a link between the caster and the target of the spell.  A skilled enough sorceress can use that same connection between a third party.  Any of your ponies with a relative at Diamond Home, a mother, a spouse, a child…that would make the casting a lot easier.”

And a lot safer.  But Sunset didn’t say that bit out loud.

“You seem to be unclear on the concept of neutrality, Princess,” Ambrosia said.  “Helping you transport you and your troops to battle would be an act of war.”

“Against the very forces you are already engaged in battle against,” Sunset noted.  “We will not be instigating any new conflicts.”

Ambrosia stomped her hoof.  “I won’t let you rhetoric your way into convincing me to violate my oath, Princess.”

“Nopony wants you to violate anything.  I’m asking for you to help defend yourself and your allies.  Besides, I need some of your ponies present to convince Fairy Light to evacuate.”

Ambrosia was silent for a while.  The two stallions on either side of her watched with concern.  Finally she spoke.

“Why?  Why put your neck out for us?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”  There were murmurs of assent from Sunset’s Knights.

But Ambrosia was already shaking her head.  “Sorry, Princess, but that’s not good enough.  There’s an angle here, and unless I know exactly what you're thinking, my ponies aren’t lifting a hoof to help you.”

Sunset grinned.  She had her.  Now all it would take is a little honesty.  “Tell me, Lady Ambrosia.  How much do you know about the Elements of Harmony?”


*   *   *   *   *


Sunset didn’t know what it was specifically that convinced Ambrosia, but in the end she’d capitulated.  It had probably been the info on the Windigoes; Sunset thought she’d seen a spark of recognition and epiphany when Sunset had discussed their nature.

“Sir Dustoff of the Angelic will accompany you,” she said.  “His wife is at Diamond Home.  I suppose that will be enough of a link for your magic?”

“Depends,” Sunset said.  “Are he and his wife close?”  She eyed the Angelic, who glared back.

“Yes,” he said flatly.  “We are.”  Sunset got the feeling that she’d pricked his pride by questioning his marriage.  Still, a strained relationship would be useless as a sympathetic anchor.

But they couldn’t leave right away.  Ambrosia still had a stack of reports for Dustoff to take to Fairy Light and Dustoff’s own commanding officer, one Magenta Mirror.

“You can trust him, Highness,” Life Flight said softly to Sunset, as the two of them watched Ambrosia and Dustoff consulting silently, just out of earshot.  “Dustoff, that is.  He’s an old friend.”

“You used to be on the other side?”

“Yes,” Life said.  “Radiant.  But… you know things aren’t always black and white.  With ‘sides’.  Especially not now.  The enemy is winter itself, not the Diarchy.”

“Somepony should tell them that,” Sunset snarked, and Life let out a reluctant laugh.  “But you’re right.  And I’m hoping some ponies see that.  Especially these ‘neutral’ orders.  Maybe they’d be more willing to help if they feel like they owe us.”

“So it’s not really about causing a distraction for the Elements?” Life asked.  There was something slightly disapproving in her voice.

Sunset shook her head.  “Call it a potential side benefit.  What we’re trying to do could yield a lot of good, not just draw attention away from Sir Heartwing and whatever he’s scheming.  I won’t mind if it also puts the Radiant Grand Master in our debt.  Besides, I think she’s onto something.”

“Highness?”

“If Fairy Light can make this neutrality thing work?  Maybe there’s hope for some kind of peace arrangement.”

It hurt to admit.  The faces of the dead haunted Sunset’s memory.  The very idea of peace with the monsters who had murdered her followers at Manehatten burned a hateful brand on her soul.

But something Celestia had told her once burned just as brightly.

“Sunset,” she had said.  “One of the burdens of leadership is the separation of the self from the title.  My calling as Princess often requires me to sacrifice my own urges and desires at the altar of what is best for Equestria.”

Sunset would do that, too; if it saved Equestria, she’d make peace with the beasts, and bury her fury deep. 

The wind suddenly picked up around her in a swirl of fallen snow, and Sunset shuddered.  Her two guards looked worried, and even Oak turned concerned eyes her way.

“Princess?”  he said.

Sunset shook her head.  “I’m fine.  Let’s go.  Sir Dustoff, you’re with me until we’re safe inside Diamond Home.  I don’t want my only emissary to be wounded before he can advocate for us.”

Dutifully, Dustoff took a place at her side.  Colibri eyed him warily, but Life smiled at her old friend. 

All around Sunset, her Knights were looking to her.  For inspiration, for direction.

It was time for a speech, but Sunset was suddenly speechless.  She looked out over her Knights, and again was humbled by the risks they were taking for her.

“I know…” she started, hoarsely.  She cleared her throat.  “I know that some of you are inexperienced.  Some of you haven’t held weapons for very long.  And you… you’re ready to go to war.  For your families, for your friends.”

The wind stopped, and the cold receded.  With a jolt of shock, Sunset realized what had been happening.  The Windigoes’ influence was even up here.  Something to be aware of.

“I am touched beyond words.  Oak has organized you into companies, under Lady Life Flight and Lady Colibri.  You have captains, too.  Stick to your squads, your companies.  Stay close to each other.  The group of people around you?  They’re going to become like a family to you, when this is all over.”

She didn’t know why she said that.  But there were a hundred sets of eyes on Sunset as she continued.

“So lift each other up.  Support each other.  We are a unit, not a collection of individuals.  And we’ll only get through all of this by working together.”

It wasn’t much of a speech.  It wasn’t worthy of applause.  But one by one Sunset’s Knights started to stomp their hooves on the ground.  It shook with their acclaim.

Sunset let the applause last until it petered out.  Then she lit her horn.  “Sir Dustoff?”

“What do you need me to do?” the Knight Angelic asked.

“Think about your wife.  What is her name?”

“Frost Stormfront.”

“Talk about her,” Sunset said.  “What is she like?”

“Frost Stormfront is…unfailingly loyal,” Dustoff said.  “There’s a lot I could say about her, but that’s the first thing that comes to mind.  She’s stuck by me regardless of how much trouble I bring into her life.  When I had to fight my ex-wife for our foal, when I struggled with…  personal stuff.  When my duties and assignments took us all over the Diarchy.  She was always firm and supportive, no matter what.”

As he spoke, Sunset reached out with her magic.  The cerulean glow touched Dustoff’s forehead, and he flinched, but only for a second, before he kept speaking.

“She’s gorgeous, of course.  Way out of my league, though she doesn’t seem to care.  And she’s sharp as a razor; smarter than me, that’s for sure.”

Sunset could feel the link.  Connected with Dustoff as he spoke about his wife, she could feel the invisible bonds of Harmony that linked him and another pony, far away to the south, in the city below.  It was like a pulsing tether, a heart that beat with love, rather than blood.

“Brace yourselves, Resplendent!” she called out.  She opened herself up to the magic of the sun itself, drawing power into her until her horn blazed with solar might.  Around her, people shied away and hid their gaze behind hooves.  Even blocked off by the snow clouds above, Sunset could feel the sun, reaching for her, like the arms of a mother, ready to embrace her and cover her in warmth and love.

It felt like Celestia.

“I’ll make you proud,” Sunset whispered, and pulled on one more surge of magic.  Fiery pain lanced through her horn.  She was fairly sure it should be smoking at this point.  Sparks of magic danced around her, and the air crackled with power. 

And then she reached along the link, grasping, stretching…

Something resisted.  For a moment Sunset felt exactly what Cadance had described.  A metaphysical steel wall, encircling the entire capital.  But it was crumbling.  No, that wasn’t the right word.  It was shrinking.  Bowing in on itself like elastic.  And it was no match for Sunset Shimmer.  With a grunt of effort and a mystical shove, she broke her way through and completed the spell.

Two places became one, and miles disappeared in a blink.

The rush of air exploding in her ears deafened Sunset for a few stunned seconds.  Her eyes were clenched shut.  But she didn’t have time to be disoriented.  She opened her eyes.

Even though she could barely hear, she called out.  “Oak?  Status check.”

Sunset looked around as she spoke.  Around her, a hundred ponies were stumbling to their hooves.  Many of them were already brandishing weapons, re-forming the schiltron.

She’d seen maps of the area around Diamond Home before teleporting.  From the shapes of the buildings around her, they were in a small park just to the west of it. It was covered in trampled snow, blood, and mud churned together at their hooves.  Just a block away was Diamond Home, looking silent and a little imposing.

“On your hooves!” Oak shouted.  “Spears ready, eyes open for activity.  South and west?”

“C-clear of activity!” Life Flight said, hovering just above the ground.  She held her spear at the ready as she scanned the silent buildings and snowy streets.

“East and North?”

“Pegasi in the air,” Colibri called back, pointing her spear.  “Activity on the street up ahead.”

Sunset followed the tip of Colibri’s spear to look up.  Indeed, there were pegasi scouts moving above them.  Each one was heavily shielded from the icy gales.  Sunset could see orange armor.  Knights Vigilant. 

The shielded orange ponies seemed to have paused, and Sunset could probably guess why.  The gray sky above her had broken; a perfectly round crater in the clouds allowed a white sky and a weak sun to shine down on the Resplendent.  Everypony in the entire city would know something was going on here, now.

“No chance of hiding our approach now,” Oak muttered, following her gaze.

“That was never the plan,” Sunset said.  “Reform into a phalanx.  Make sure you intermix your career soldiers with those that may have less experience.  We’re moving towards the hospital.”

“And if we encounter the enemy?”

“Strike hard and fast.  Break away if we don’t break through, melt into the streets and find another spot to strike.  We’re scouting for weaknesses in their armor.”

“There’s already fighting up ahead,” Oak reminded her.

“We need scouts.  Pick some of the changelings.  The rest of us will advance at a canter, pegasi as our rear and skyguard.”

Oak gave his orders, even as Sunset watched the Vigilant pegasi up above rushing to return to whatever commanders they had to report their arrival.

“You sound like you’ve studied tactics before, Princess,” Oak said, as they all began moving forward.

“A little,” she said.  “The art of war is simple enough.  Find out where the enemy is, get to them fast, hit them as hard as you can, and keep moving.”

“That sounded like a quote.”

“Old unicorn general named Union Star.  He was a genius.  Sometimes got so caught up in how brilliant his plans were, though, he forgot to think about exactly what the enemy was doing.”

“Are we going to make that mistake?” Oak asked.

“I don’t have the luxury of extensive time or personnel to do thorough scouting,” Sunset said.  “So relying on Union’s tactics makes sense to me, with a little bit of guerrilla warfare mixed in.  Commander Forest Hood, perhaps, or even Admiral Hurricane Wind.”

“I don’t know any of those ponies,” Oak admitted.

“Before your time,” Sunset noted with a laugh.

The Resplendent thundered up the street.  Sunset felt a thrill go up her spine as her hooves pounded the snow beneath her, wings spread subconsciously.  She’d read about the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of battle.

Manehatten had been nothing like this.  Manehatten had been desperation, despair, and massacre.  This… this felt different.

A roar went out from her ponies.  Sunset was fairly certain Colibri started it, though she couldn’t be completely sure.  But as they thundered up the street towards the hospital, a cheer found its way to every Resplendent’s mouth, even hers.

“FOR THE SETTING SUN!  BREAK THROUGH THE ICE!”

It seemed fitting.

There was only one exception; next to her Dustoff was silent, his expression worried but firm. 

They burst onto a wide street leading parallel to the hospital, and into their first active war zone.  But it was not Diarchy ponies fighting Angelic or Radiant.

Rather, it was Diarchy ponies fighting each other.

Two broken, jagged lines of Knights, one set in blue armor, the other in orange, clashed fervently in the icy streets.  Each side had around twenty Knights each.  There were already some dead and wounded in the snow.

“Resplendent, hold!” Oak called.  It wasn’t the cleanest halt, but they skidded to a stop in the snow.  “Princess?”

“Scouts back yet?” Sunset called, and Oak shook his head.  “Dustoff, you know anything?”

“You mean, why the Adamant and Vigilant are fighting?  No idea,” he shook his head.  “It makes no sense.  They should be on the same side.”

“I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Sunset said.  “Enemy of my enemy, and all that.”

But which Order would stop them from getting into Diamond Home? Who was the enemy?

“You think we can negotiate?” he asked.

“Why not?” Sunset said.  “It will draw their attention as well as anything else.”

“But who…”

It was time for bold, perhaps impetuous action.  Sunset filled her lungs and bellowed.

It was high time for the Royal Canterlot Voice to make a resurgence in Canterlot, even if it was New Canterlot.

“MY KNIGHTS AND I ARE MARCHING TO DIAMOND HOME!” Sunset’s voice blasted over the combatants, causing them to pause and look her way in horror.  “WHO DARES TO STAND IN OUR WAY!?”

“Front rank, spears up, advance at a canter,” Oak ordered.  “Second rank, three paces behind.  Forward.”

The Resplendent were almost upon the abruptly paused combat.  Sunset wondered if she had suddenly become the enemy that united both sides of this fight.  But then a voice rose from among the blue-armored Adamant, a tall mare at the front.

“Orderly retreat, at a walk!” she called, and the Adamant began to pull back.  Caught between chasing after a retreating foe and a new threat, the Vigilant seemed lost in confusion. 

“Colibri, reserves at our left flank and rear, in case those Adamant change their minds,” Oak said.  The phalanx shifted to meet his orders.

“There’s something off about those Vigilants,” Dustoff muttered from Sunset’s side, and she nodded.  There was indeed something off.  They were trembling, seething in their line, barely holding onto any kind of discipline.

But that wasn’t all.  Something on the tip of Sunset’s tongue, something she couldn’t quite put her hoof down…

…until it dawned on her.  Their breath.  It wasn’t making any fog in the frigid air.

“Knights of the Diarchy!  As long as you step aside and don’t impede our path to the hospital, you will not be harmed!  We desire peace!”

But she didn’t stop, nor did her Knights.  Her words had the opposite effect of her intent, though, as if by one manic voice the Vigilants howled and threw themselves forward.

“Resplendents forward, and BREAK THE ICE!” Sunset screamed, her horn charging.

“FORWARD AT A GALLOP!  FOR THE SETTING SUN!” Oak called, and an answering roar went up the line as ponies broke into a charge. 

The Vigilant were hopelessly outnumbered, but they had experience on their side.  When Sunset got close enough to see their eyes, she realized that wasn’t all; they were bonafide madponies.  Foam frothed at their muzzles, eyes glazed over with wordless rage.

Sunset’s first beam caught the front Knight in the chest with enough force to toss him across the street.  A dozen Resplendent unicorns followed with a volley of their own, a rainbow of force splashing out into the Vigilants and tossing them aside like ragdolls.  It wasn’t enough, and a wave of Vigilant crashed against the spears of Sunset’s front rank.

This was more like Manehatten.  The screech of metal on metal, screams of pain and fury, blood and snow churning in the air.  Oak flew firmly at her side, his own horn firing blasts of magic from range at any piece of orange armor that dared get close enough.  Sunset’s own blasts made her nervous; she worried that amidst the melee that she’d hit one of her own by accident.  Instead she started picking up Knights and tossing them backwards.

It was like lifting boulders; she remembered even at Manehatten the Knights had enchanted their armor to resist levitation.  But she had the power of the sun at her command, and no ordinary enchantment could dare stand up to the might of an alicorn.

Still, it was a gratuitous show of force.  Sunset didn’t care.

“Abomination!  Vile she-demon!”

It was a pegasus Knight, screaming with wild-eyed fury as she spiraled through the air, a wicked-looking halberd pointed right at Sunset’s face.

Sunset jerked back, horn blazing, ready to fire a bolt at the assault.  But the assailant wasn’t alone; two more pegasi saw what was happening and dove as well, right behind, with their own spears pointed down in a desperate dive.

“No,” Oak said simply, and just like the diving pegasi, one, two, and then three Resplendent rose to meet the charge.  Oak, Colibri, and Life Flight.  Oak knocked the halberd aside with his own spear, and Life Flight was casting a lightning-fast spell with her gauntlet, causing a small glowing shield to come into existence around her hoof. 

Colibri had the worst time.  She tried to parry the spear just like Oak had.  But Colibri lacked the experience and training of her comrades.  Even as Oak, wings buzzing, knocked a Vigilant out of the air with a spinning kick of his hindhooves, Colibri’s opponent twisted and lunged. 

Colibri tried to knock the spear out of the way, but her opponent was too clever.  The deadly blade darted around her defenses and found a crack in Colibri’s armor.  With a nauseating sort of thud, the spear drove home into Colibri’s side, and Colibri inhaled sharply.

Manehatten flashed in Sunset’s mind again.  So many dead.  So many glassy eyes, so much blood, so many broken bones and broken ponies.

inevitable

unconquerable

pointless

She was frozen, standing there, wings spread, horn glowing uselessly.  And one of her Knights was dying.

Her Knight.

Suddenly she felt a rise of righteous anger; at the pony who dared hurt her loyal Knight, at the voices of ice that clawed at her mind.  At the ponies who, so long ago, but not so long ago for her, decided that peace wasn’t an option and invaded her city.

Sunset’s horn blazed with new light, the lenticular rays of sunlight peeking through the clouds above bursting upon her in a flare of solar fury.  Before, she’d been afraid of harming her own, but it had been a pointless fear.

She was Sunset Shimmer, for Celestia’s sake!  She had clawed her way out of a smoking pit, all the way to the pinnacle of her destiny!  And she was not going to let some snow-crazed upstart harm her friends!

It wasn’t one ray that blasted out from her horn, but several.  Each one slammed into a Vigilant, tossing them back and away.  Ponies careened from her like limp sacks, bouncing in the snow and into buildings and debris.

The whole skirmish had lasted seconds, but Sunset panted for breath as she watched the Vigilants try to regain their hooves.  She didn’t know if they meant to charge or flee.  But she wouldn’t let them get close again.

“Life?  Can you…”

“On it!” Life interrupted, already flying to Colibri’s side.  Sunset stood protectively over the both of them as she worked, her gauntlet a rapid blur of runes.

“Healing spells.  I’m going to need you to teach me some as soon as possible,” she said to the medic.

“All due respect, Highness, but shush.  I’m concentrating.”

There was something about the rebuke that reminded Sunset of Celestia, the only mother she’d really ever known.  But the strange sort of amusement she felt at that thought was washed away by worry.

“Is she—”

“Shush, Princess.”

With nothing better to do, the scolded princess glanced up at the Vigilant.  They were retreating, slipping away into alleyways and around buildings.  Sunset took a moment to look over her charges.  There were wounded, but none so bad as Colibri.

“Reform lines!” Oak’s shout came from her left.  “Phalanx facing west!  Spears up!”

The Adamants.  Sunset looked up from where Colibri was panting and bleeding, limp, in the snow, to see a couple dozen Adamants reforming their own line.  She still outnumbered them four to one.

There would be another fight.  A skirmish, really, but something about watching Colibri get stabbed had washed away the earlier sense of glory she’d gotten during the charge.

“Knights Adamant.  You are hopelessly outnumbered.”  Sunset scoured her mind for something better to say, but she felt tired.  “Please don’t make us destroy you.”

The Adamants were silent for a moment, their own spears poised for a charge.  But then the tall mare at the front spoke up again, shouting across the churned snow.

“Reckon ah don’ even know who ah’m talkin’ ta,” the mare drawled.  It wasn’t the same, but her dialect was close enough to remind Sunset of Applejack.  Her expression was stoic, but there was determination in her expression. “But y’all kinda look like th' one they call Sunset Shimmer.”

“That’s me,” she said.  “So you know what I can do.  Don’t do this.”

“Ah don’ rightly think anypone knows anythin', nummore,” the mare drawled back.  “But ma'am?   Ah gotta duty t'do.”  She sounded resigned.  “Y’all said yer headin' up t'th' hospital?  Welp, orders says ah’m supposed ta keep everypone outta there.  By force, if we gotta.”

“You have a duty to throw your ponies’ lives away against a superior force?”  Sunset needed to give the Adamant an out.  “Because we will tear through you.  What’s your name?  I gave you mine.”

“Reckon that’s fair, shure.  Lady Brick House, ma’am.”

Sunset had to hold back a snort of laughter as an old song from the other world popped into her head.  The mare was indeed big, after all.

“Okay then, Lady Brick.  You have a duty.  But if you come against me ponies will die.  Mostly yours.  And you won’t stop me.”  Sunset’s horn glowed brighter, enough that several Adamant shied back.  “Don’t test me.”

Brick was silent for several breaths. 

“Arrite, Squad Delta!” she roared out.  “We’re regroupin' an' comin’ back with reinforcements, y'hear?  Back away adda walk, y'all - eyes on th' enemy soldiers as we secure th' route.  Eye contact 'til we're outta sight - but nopony hits first, gawdit?”

Sunset didn’t bother to watch them leave.  Her Knights would take care of that.  She turned back to Life and Colibri.

Colibri was breathing, her eyes narrowed in pain.  Life was working on her, and Sir Dustoff was helping, casting his own spells.

“I’m…a shit soldier, Highness.  Sorry,” Colibri grunted out.  “Going down…on our first engagement.”

“You’re inexperienced is all,” Sunset said softly, her gaze meeting Life’s.  “You’ll do better next time.”

In her heart she prayed there would be a next time.  Life’s answering smile was thin, but real.

“Spear nicked a lung.  Lots of bleeding, had to reinflate, but nothing life-threatening.  It took a good bit of motes from our gauntlets, but she’ll be just fine.  Light duty for a bit, though.”

“Not really an option,” Colibri grunted.

“Like hell it is,” Sunset said.  A few faces around her blinked in confusion at the unfamiliar phrase.  “You’ll stay right at my side, Colibri. You can relay my orders.”

Oak nodded.  “Stay close to the princess, Colibri.  Is she good to walk, at least?”

“And fly,” Life said.  “Just let me know if there’s more pain.  My spells repaired most of the damage.”

Dustoff finished tying a bandage and nodded his agreement.  “I’ll keep an eye on her, Highness,” he offered.

Sunset stared at him.  “This doesn’t affect your neutrality?”

“Healing is our job,” he said.  “Well, the Radiants’ job.  And the Angelic make sure they can do it.  But I have field medic certification.”  His gaze on her was firm.  “Be aware that if they hadn’t all fled or died, I would be healing your enemies as well.”

“Noted,” Sunset said.  “Any other casualties?”

There were a few minor wounds, but nothing serious.  They paused long enough to bandage the worst of it before Sunset gave the order to move again.


*   *   *   *   *


The next few hours were a blur.  Sunset and her Resplendent followed the same pattern over and over.

Move quickly through the streets until they found an enemy.

Hit hard.

Melt away.

All the while they stayed close to Diamond Home, clearing out and softening as much of the Diarchy forces in the area as they could.  Sunset wanted them weakened and confused, for when the final strike came.

Plus, it meant the evacuation route for the besieged Radiants would be clear.

By now there were active patrols of Adamants and Mystics looking for them, which was exactly what Sunset wanted.  The cloud coverage had returned after her surge of magic had cut a hole in it, meaning that once again the snow and wind provided enough coverage for them to not worry too much about pegasus scouts.  Their own scouts were nearly as inhibited, but the changelings at least had the option of turning into something a little more robust to survive the snow.

Sunset knew they’d been lucky so far.  Her original force of one hundred and nine Knights was down to ninety eight, with those eleven wounded bringing up the rear under Colibri’s command.  Life and the other medics, including Dustoff, were saving their gauntlets for the worst injuries, which also meant most of her able bodied Knights had some minor wounds.

She would have called it a miracle that they had no dead yet, except that the majority of the forces they’d encountered had been small squads of insane Vigilants or Mystics, or the occasional army or mercenary patrol.

After a dozen small engagements, though, the toll was beginning to show on her Knights.  They found an empty cathedral and hid inside, shoving aside the pews to make space to lie down and rest for a bit.

“Leave those alone,” Sunset said when some of her Knights started eyeing the statues of the Saints with violent intent.  “Trust me, I get it.  But we’re not here for vandalism.  We’re better than that.”

Dustoff gave her a glance that might have been respect.

To be fair, though, Sunset felt a twinge of fury when she looked at the statue of Twilight Sparkle.  She was incomplete without her horn; magic had always been a big part of Twilight’s pride and identity.  To see her without it was alien.

“Found it!” one of her Knights cried with glee, and Sunset glanced over.  The earth pony stallion was young, probably seventeen at the most, and he already wore a bandage around his shoulder and right forehoof.  His black mane was shorn close to his gray fur; she remembered seeing him cutting off a long ponytail right after he recovered from his potion, back at Old Canterlot.  At his feet was a small radio that he’d been fiddling with.

“Found what?” she asked curiously, and he glanced up with awe and shock.  The poor kid hadn’t realized she’d been watching.

“The r-radio f-frequency, ma’am.  Your ladyship.  Uh.  Majesty.”

“Just call me Sunset,” she said with amusement.  “What’s your name?  And what radio frequency?”

“Um.  My name’s Fid.  Uh.  High Fidelity, Princess Sunset, I mean.  And it’s Radio Free Equestria.  Pirate radio station that broadcasts Discordant stuff.  Used to listen in secret when I was a kid, that’s how I got out of here in the first place.”

He motioned to the radio, which was broadcasting a distant, tinny voice.

“Turn it up,” Sunset said, waving Oak over, who approached with curiosity.

“…know that there’s little news, and even less sanity out there right now.  Latest word is the Adamant are gathering refugees.  Folks, I know that if you’re listening to me you’re not likely to trust the Blues, but honestly?  It’s a good bet.  The Shield of the Heavens is safe, as far as we can tell.  Lady Snow, what’s our intel like there?”

“Snowfall Shiver,” Oak explained in a whisper.  “Discordant force commander.”

“It’s warmer at the Shield, Wave,” came a different mare’s voice.  “And that tells you something.  We’ve got a couple of watchers there in case things go bad, but as much as I hate to say it, North Wind seems to have a good head on his shoulders and good discipline.  If you need somewhere safe to go, head there.  Listen to any Adamants or soldiers taking you.  Vigilants are very much not safe to approach.  Neither are Mystics.  You run into a pony in either one of those, run the other way as fast as you can.  Only the Adamants seem to be on top of things.”

“Into the hooves of the enemy, eh?” Wave said.

“Right now the priority is safety,” Snow replied.  “If your home is warm and intact, stay there.  If not, get to the Shield.  We have scattered reports of ponies hearing voices.  Whatever these voices are, they seem to get louder with violence, fear, and hate.  So we need civilians and non-Knights avoiding conflict as much as possible.”

“What about Knights, though?”

“No change in orders, Discordant,” Snow said.  “Keep looking for the Elements, and support them if you can.  Currently we have direct contact with Loyalty and Laughter.  We know where Honesty is, too, but are not in contact any longer.  Kindness?  Generosity?  If you can hear me, your partners are safe, and try to get in touch as soon as you can, if it’s safe.”

“Can’t you share their locations?”

“Not safe,” Snow said.  “It’s possible that we have enemies listening in here.  But we have agents throughout the city looking for them, ready to offer aid.”

“Do we know yet why they’re so scattered?”

“Got news from Loyalty himself,” Snow said.  “Sounds like it was unintentional; a teleportation accident.  Loyalty is sure they’re all safe, though.  But there’s more to report to your listeners.  They’re going to like this one, Wave.”

“Oh?”

“A…sun is rising over New Canterlot.  Agents embedded in the Shield of the Heavens are already reporting a force of Knights in orange and red armor, led in battle by a glorious alicorn princess.  The tales are getting taller each time I hear them, but it’s good news. Sunset Shimmer is here, Discordant.  And she’s fighting for us.”

There was a pause in the broadcast, and Sunset looked up.  Everypony was listening now, ears straining towards the sound of the radio.  After a moment of silence, Life Flight lifted her hoof, as if to start a round of applause, then thought better of it, instead bowing her head towards Sunset.  She was smiling.

In turn, each of her Knights bowed or saluted.  Sunset saluted them back.

“What do you think she’s planning?” Wave asked, and everypony once again focused on the radio.

“No idea, but even if I did know, I wouldn’t want to broadcast it,” Snow said.  “But Princess?  If you can hear me, try to get in touch.  The Discordant serve at your command, and will do whatever you need to help you.”

A pony she had never met was speaking to Sunset, declaring her loyalty.  Unconsciously she fluffed her wings a little; all it took to inspire such devotion was a couple of feathers?

But she knew it wasn’t about her.  It was about the title.  The role.  The symbols and ideas she represented.

She lit her horn, a trickle of magic flowing into the radio.  There was a power in names, and the Knight on the radio had used hers. High Fidelity blinked in shock, his hooves instinctively going around the radio protectively.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered.  “I won’t break it.”

He loosened his grip as the broadcast continued.

“We’re going to pause for a bit, but keep listening if you can, ponies.  Meanwhile, I’m digging into my stash of banned music to bring you this little gem, penned a century ago by Figaro Flute, and outlawed by a Mystic’s censorship pen after Flute’s arrest and execution.  Here’s ‘Symphony three, fourth movement, or, The Tempest Flight’.  Enjoy, stay safe, and stay tuned.”

As a lonely trombone started to wail through the radio, Sunset was already reaching with her magic while a hundred pairs of eyes watched her silently.  By the time the tympani drums had begun to beat, she finished her spell, reaching back over the link provided by the radio waves.

Far easier than a teleportation spell, to be sure.

“Oak,” she said.  “I know where the broadcast is coming from.  Do we want to send scouts there?”

“Smart,” he said with a nod.  “Apis?  Caelifera?”

Two scouts approached and saluted.

“You two,” Sunset said.  “The broadcast is coming from a point three and a half miles to the north and west.  Should still be in city limits.  Sorry,” she said with a smile.  “My spell doesn’t give me addresses.  Are you good judges of distance?”

“Apis has a good sense of direction,” Oak said, and the yellow-and-black changeling nodded proudly.  “Just give her a heading and she’ll find it, even without landmarks.”

“Come to the window,” Sunset said, and the two scouts followed her.  It was impossible to see far into the empty street, but when Sunset pointed in the direction her spell had indicated, both changelings nodded confidently.

“Give us a half hour and we’ll be on that broadcast, Highness,” Apis said with a cocky sort of confidence that put a grin on Sunset’s muzzle.

“Please be safe, both of you,” Sunset said, and the changelings saluted.  “Good luck.”

The cathedral was silent for a bit as the scouts slipped out into the cold, filled only with the sounds of the censored symphony.  But even though Sunset could have been imagining it, it looked to her as if her Knights were a bit more energized, more bright.  She smiled.

“I don’t want to make a lot of noise and draw attention to ourselves,” she said, loud enough to be heard over the music.  “So we’ll skip the applause.  But let’s all congratulate the Resplendent’s newest communications officer, High Fidelity.”

The poor young Knight looked overwhelmed and terrified as everyone around him thumped him firmly on the back.  His red blush shone through gray fur, and he glanced down at his hooves.

“I just like radios,” he muttered.

“And good thing, too.  Keep it up, Sir Fidelity,” Sunset said.  “And well done.  Let me know when the broadcast comes back on.”

But the wait was anxious.  When a half hour came and went, Sunset started to pace.  The earlier boost in morale seemed a temporary thing, and Sunset could see the other Knights getting agitated as well. 

Finally, though, after she’d counted forty-five minutes, there was a break in the music.

“Anypony still out there?” It was Cutting Wave’s voice, once again.  “We have news.  I just heard Radio Free Equestria has a new fan.  Princess, thanks for tuning in.”

Everypony’s ears perked and turned to the radio.

“First off, your scouts are safe and sound.  Second, they’re asking to stay here, to facilitate better communication.  And third, I’ve been asked to relay a specific question for you.  Do you know Bighorn’s Boisterous Beacon?”

Sunset grinned.  She knew the spell well.  At Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, instructors would cast the spell so that novice teleporters could have an easier time finding their target location.  It was a useless spell otherwise…unless you were trying to teleport.

“Make a space, please,” she instructed.  “About three ponies across, in the middle of the cathedral here.  Watch the windows; this spell makes a lot of light, and I’m hoping nopony will notice.  Block them out if you can.”

There was a bustle of motion as Knights rushed to fulfill her orders.  After a moment she cast a spell.

Sunset’s crimson magic coalesced into a small orb in the blank space her Knights had made.  It pulsed and flashed, as if the magic was trying to escape the orb.  Sparks danced around it, dissipating harmlessly against the wood floor.

She didn’t have to wait long.  With a loud pop and a flash of yellow magic, two ponies appeared in the middle of the cathedral.  The first was a brown unicorn stallion with gray mane and beard, complete with mismatched red and yellow eyes.  His armor was dirty and bloodstained, and one of his hooves was a prosthetic.  The second was an orange crystal pony mare dressed in a tattered coat.  They both looked exhausted, but the stallion’s eyes lit up when they fell on Sunset.

“Princess Shimmer, I presume?” he drawled.  “Sleep well?”

“Too long,” she said, grinning back at him.  It was obvious to her who this was; she’d walked past him a thousand times as Celestia’s student, though in a different form.  “You’re looking well.  A bit more mobile than when I saw you last.”

“To my great pleasure,” he said with a bow.  “May I present Duchess Topaz Glitter of the Crystal Empire, Element of Laughter?  And of course you seem to know me already.”

“Of course. Heartwing now, right?  But I wasn’t expecting you to visit so suddenly.”

“Ah.”  He nodded.  “I thought it best to compare notes and intel in pony, as it were.”  His gaze drifted appraisingly over her Knights.  “It seems momentous things have been happening.  I recognize some of these new Knights, though not the heraldry.”

“The Knights Resplendent, led by my Grand Master, Oak Chips.”

Heartwing’s eyes lit up, and even Topaz looked surprised.

“We do have some catching up to do,” Heartwing said.  “Can you fill me in?”

So she did.  She told him of her arrival, and of the creation of her Knights.  She told him of their mass teleportation, and the strange weakness of the alicorn-repelling spell she had expected.  She told him of their encounters with the crazed Vigilant.

“My whole point in coming here was to try and draw their attention, so you could accomplish whatever you’re working on.” Sunset said.  “To poke at the forces besieging Diamond Home, and eventually find a hole and break through to the Radiants within.  I’ve been leading them on a bit of a chase.  I was just about to try the larger group right in front of Diamond Home when we found your broadcast.”

“Ah,” Heartwing said.  “Well, we owe you gratitude, then.  Patrols have been lighter than I expected.  The problem is, I don’t really have a plan at the moment.  When your scouts arrived, Topaz and I were about to try and find Emberglow.  She’s the one who brought us here, but each of the Elements arrived at different locations in New Canterlot.  Teleportation accident.”

“Teleportation accident?  From my briefing Emberglow was a pegasus, not a unicorn.”

“Yes,” Heartwing said, sounding both proud and worried.  “She is.  It seems she found a way to teleport with rune magic.”

Sunset was thoughtfully silent.  On the one hoof, that was a powerful advantage.  On the other, military advancement had a way of eventually spreading to the enemy.  Teleportation was a major boon on their side right now.  If the enemy figured it out…

“Securing her is a priority, then,” Sunset said, and Heartwing nodded, the worry in his expression mirroring her own.  “What is your plan for finding the Element of Magic?”

Heartwing flinched.  “Is it terrible to say, ‘hope for the best’?  We planned to use Old Canterlot as a staging ground to mount an expedition, but plans fell apart.  Especially when Princess Flurry died.”

The room went very silent for a moment, and Heartwing looked away.

Sunset pushed aside her own dark thoughts.  “What about the other Elements?”

“We’ve been searching,” Heartwing said with a wince.  “I… have a decent idea of where Terminus is.  I’ll be checking on my hunch after I’m done chatting with you.  A place called the Ivy Seminary.  If I’m lucky Lofty will be with him there, but I don’t know.”

“Kindness and Generosity, right?  Why do you think they’ll be there?”

“When Emberglow teleported us, the spell went wild,” Heartwing said.  “Each of us ended up in places that have…emotional significance to us.  I appeared in a storeroom basement where my statue had been hidden for centuries before I woke up.  Topaz here appeared in Lofty’s old manor.”

“The sun room,” Topaz said, nodding.  “Where we had our first date.  I hoped… I hoped he’d be there.”

“Our next guess was the Ivy Seminary,” Heartwing continued.  “Both Terminus and Lofty have…significant memories of the place.  If they were smart enough to stay put.”

“And Emberglow?”

“We don’t know where she appeared,” Heartwing said.  “But one of my Discordant reported in.  He helped her reach the Star Shine building.  The command center of the Knights Mystic.”

“That place is probably a hornet’s nest!” Sunset said in shock.  “Why would she go there?”

“Rarity,” Topaz said simply, and Heartwing nodded.  “Emberglow was tracking her with spells, before we teleported.  She probably thinks Rarity is there.”

“So we were going to find the others, then head there,” Heartwing said.  He let the statement be open, as if partially in question.

As if Sunset were his commanding officer.  Which, she supposed, she was.

“Do it,” she said.  “I trust you.”  She barely knew him.  But who could she trust, if she couldn’t trust the Element of Loyalty?  Regardless of who he had been before.

“Thanks, Princess,” he said. 

“First, though, I need whatever intel you can give me about Diamond Home and the forces around it.  It’s time the Resplendent make an assault on the front courtyard.”


*   *   *   *   *


“Carousel Square is held by the Knights Adamant, commanding a smattering of the three other orders.”

With Apis and Caelifera now stationed with Radio Free Equestria, that left only two Changeling scouts, if Sunset was unwilling to have Oak do her reconnaissance.  Which she was not.   Currently one of them, a bright yellow and brown changeling mare named Io, was reporting on what she’d seen.

“It’s not just Knights, though.  There are prisoners.”

“Prisoners?” Sunset asked, alarmed.

“And bodies,” Io flinched.  “I didn’t get close enough to ask questions, but I did overhear some chatter.  Sounds like the head of the Vigilants went nuts and was executing prisoners.  Then some important Mystic showed up and executed her, before disappearing.  Now they’re just waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Sunset mused, a bit rhetorically.

But Io took it as a direct question.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “But from the chatter it seems like they didn’t know either.  Further orders, maybe?”

“Who’s in charge?” Oak asked.  “And what are their numbers like?”

“The commanding officer is an Adamant mare named Amaranth.  There’s about thirty of them.  Vigilants are led by a mousy-kinda stallion named Dipoly.  There’s about twenty of those, but they’re… off.  Pinks and Purples make up the rest, about ten or so each.”

“What do you mean by ‘off’?” Sunset asked curiously.

“Same stuff we’ve seen,” Io said.  “Crazy but they’re hanging on.  Could snap any second.  Honestly some of the others looked that way too.”

The Princess and her Changeling Knights were keeping their voices low, huddled behind the broken window on the ground floor of an abandoned office building.  Her other Knights were scattered among several other buildings spread out on the same block, just a few streets away from the square.  Shattered furniture, broken glass, and snow-soaked papers scattered across the wood floor, now stained by the mud and slush her Knights had tracked in.  Sunset idly wondered what sort of work had gone on in this room.

She had to keep reminding herself that this was a city, a place where ponies lived and worked and had normal lives.  A normal that, perhaps, they’d get to go back to someday, though hopefully with a few changes.  She idly toyed with a fallen spreadsheet with one hoof, thinking.

“Strategically we should stage an ambush,” she said.  “We have the advantage of surprise.”

“You don’t like it,” Oak guessed shrewdly.

Sunset shook her head.  “No.  I don’t.  Io, how many prisoners are there?  And what kinds of ponies are among them?”

“A few white-robes,” she said.  “Some really young ponies.  At least one Discordant.”

“How can you tell?” Sunset asked.

“Looked pretty beat up.  The white-robes aren’t, neither are the young ones.  Also he’s dressed in a gambeson.  Like they stripped his armor off.”  She shrugged.  “Just a guess.  He was pretty big, too.”

Across the room Colibri and Dustoff were resting.  Colibri shot to her hooves, grunting in pain as Dustoff protested.

“What color?” she cried out suddenly, then yelped and covered her mouth, lowering her voice.  She limped over, wincing with every step.  “What color was he?” she repeated.

“Dark,” Io said, and Colibri let out a wail of dismay.  “But alive,” she reassured.  “Somepony you know, Lady Colibri?”

“My fiancé,” she moaned.  “Slate.”  She turned desperately to Sunset.  “Highness.  Please.”

“We’re going to do something about it,” Sunset promised.  There was a look of naked relief and longing that flowed over Colibri’s expression, enough that Sunset felt a cold stone of guilt settle in her gut.  She didn’t even have an idea yet.  Her eyes met Oak’s.

“Ambush is out,” he said, and Sunset nodded.  She hadn’t liked the idea anyways.

“It was never an option,” she admitted.  “With so many ponies close to madness, violence would be counterproductive.  I wanted to give them a chance to surrender first, but that’s out too.  Probably also overly optimistic.  But I wonder; is some sort of surprise really not an option?”

“Good chance if we take them by surprise they’ll do something to the prisoners,” Oak said neutrally, while Colibri gasped in horror.  “It would be the best way to keep our casualties low, though.  This’ll be the closest we come to an even engagement.”

Even was probably too generous; with thirty experienced and trained Adamants, even Sunset’s superior numbers weren’t much of an advantage any longer.

“What if we can have our cake and eat it too?” Sunset said, a grin spreading across her features.  “Element of surprise and prisoner safety?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Split in two.  A small force, maybe a dozen or so, dropping in right on the prisoners.  Teleporting.  Then the larger force strikes from the outside.”

“The ponies on the inside would be completely surrounded by a superior force,” Oak noted.  “And besides, none of the unicorns here are strong enough to take that many…”

His eyes widened as he suddenly realized Sunset’s intent.

“No.”

“Oak, it’s the best—”

“No.”

“Oak,” Sunset narrowed her eyes.  “I am your princess.”  Throwing her weight around came chillingly natural to her, a grim reminder of a time when she would have enjoyed that too much.  “Remember that bit?”

“And remember that when you made me grand master of this operation, I warned you that I’d need to be able to make independent decisions in order to keep you safe.  This is one of those times, highness.  No.”

“How else do you propose we get in to protect those ponies?” Sunset said.  “We can’t fly.  We can’t break their lines fast enough to guarantee a clean victory.  No, a teleport and a quick shield are the safest ways.”

“This is the opposite of safe,” Oak snarled.  At his side, Colibri was silent, eyes huge as they darted between Sunset and Oak.  It was obvious what she wanted, but there was a clear conflict of interest.  Sunset admired her silence.  “It is decidedly unsafe.”

“Think of me as a resource,” Sunset said cajolingly.  “If I were not a princess, but instead a strategic asset.  How would you use me in this context?”

Oak snorted.  “Sophistry.  Your value as an asset cannot be separated from your role.  Do you think these ponies can bear to lose another princess so soon after the last?”

The Resplendent all around them were starting to sit up and pay attention.  Many of them flinched, ears pinning back as Oak mentioned Flurry.

“You’re going to have to accept that I might be in danger sometimes, Oak,” Sunset said.  “You can’t just swaddle me in bubble wrap and put me on a shelf somewhere!  I’ve been fighting this whole time, and I’m going to keep fighting.”

“Not like this, Princess.  It’s too risky.  Can’t you teleport a force in without yourself?”

“That’s not how teleportation works,” she said, shaking her head.  “It has to be me.”

“We could think of another plan,” he said.  “Ask the Radiants inside Diamond Home for help.  We are rescuing their people, after all.”

“Sir Dustoff,” Sunset said, waving the pony in question over.  He’d been listening, of course.  It was impossible to not overhear.  But he’d been polite enough not to interrupt.

“Possible, but unlikely,” he said.  “I can get in touch with Fairy Light, but I’m not sure how long it will take to get a response.  Or even what that response would be.”

“I don’t like waiting for an uncertain variable,” Sunset said.  “We’re here.  Now.  Those prisoners’ lives are our responsibility.  We can’t abdicate that.”

She stared at Oak, cerulean eyes matching his flat insectoid ones.  They were silent for a few moments.

“Life Flight and every pegasus from your original guard are with you,” he said after a dozen silent breaths.  “Io, too.  I’ll be leading the assault force.  My objective will be to break to you as quickly as possible.  You put up a shield, Princess Sunset.  Protect them and yourself, but don’t try to be a hero.”  There was a beat.  “Too much of a hero, rather.”

Sunset’s grin was confident.  “You knew I was right all along.”

“Perhaps,” Oak scowled again.  “But somebody needs to argue with you when you’re about to do something stupid.”

“Even when it’s the right thing to do?”

“Even then.”

“I’ll be going with you, Highness,” Dustoff said suddenly.  Oak and Sunset stared at him.  “In this, my blade is yours.”

He motioned to an ornate looking sword sheathed at his belt.  He had yet to draw it in her presence.

“Why now?” Sunset asked curiously.

“My charge is the defense of Radiants.  Up to this point you’ve been fighting my former comrades.”

“We still will be,” Oak noted.

“Yes,” Dustoff said, his voice determined, eyes blazing, even as his ears pinned.  “But you’re risking yourselves to do my job this time.  I won’t let you go without me.”

“You won’t let her?” Oak said, voice low and dangerous.

“Calm down,” Sunset scolded.  Oak didn’t budge.  “Well, Sir Dustoff, welcome aboard, I suppose.  We’re leaving as soon as Oak passes the orders down the line.  And if your blade is mine, as you say?  Your job will be to keep Lady Colibri safe.”

Both ponies looked at each other in shock.  “Me?” Colibri asked.

“Your fiancé is with the prisoners,” Sunset said.  “I’ll need your link to pick the exact right spot to appear above.”

“Above?”

“We’ll have to be flying to teleport into empty space,” Sunset said.  “Otherwise it wouldn’t be pretty. So fliers only, Oak.”

Oak nodded, saluted, and rushed off.  Dustoff looked grim.

“I hadn’t expected to be teleporting again so soon,” he said softly.  “It’s… an odd experience.”

“Because it’s unicorn magic?” Sunset guessed. 

Dustoff nodded slowly.  “I was raised to fear you.  You, specifically, Princess.  And your kind.  It can take time to shed those kinds of prejudices.”

“I’d say you’re doing a damned fine job of it so far,” Sunset said.

In no time at all several pegasi, as well as both remaining changeling scouts, had filtered into the building, awaiting Sunset’s command. 

“Be safe,” Oak said.  “It will take about half a minute for my ground forces to reach their lines.”

“I’ll time it right after I hear your battle-cry.  Be loud,” Sunset said.

Oak sighed and saluted.  “Keep her safe, all of you.”

“We will, sir,” Life said, and Colibri nodded.  Sunset stopped herself from commenting; Colibri could barely fly.

Most of the Resplendents departed, leaving Sunset and her guard.  She waited a few seconds.

“Into the air.  Brace yourselves.  Same formation as our first teleport, only airborne,” she said.  “Sir Dustoff, you’re right next to Colibri.  Colibri, you’re by me.  Talk about your fiance.”

“Slate is…well, he’s huge.  Taller than any pony I’ve seen.  But he’s also the gentlest soul I’ve ever met.  His first instinct has always been to protect me.  He hated the idea of me joining up even as a quartermaster.”  She sighed, then winced as the deep exhale hurt her wounded chest.  “He’s going to be livid about all of this.  Or not, I don’t know.  I just want him to be safe.”

While she spoke, Sunset and all the others spread their wings.  Colibri struggled a little but managed.  Sunset’s horn glowed as she reached out to Colibri, touching her with the same magic she’d done earlier.

This time it was much easier.  Slate was a lot nearer than Dustoff’s wife had been, the last time she’d done this.  Plus, there was a lot less to teleport.

“We delayed our wedding until all this was over.  So many of our friends couldn’t be there, so we—”

Colibri’s words cut off as the roar of the Resplendent’s battle cry echoed over the silent buildings.  Sunset’s horn blazed and her entire honor guard teleported.

Chaos and noise surrounded them, assaulting Sunset’s ears and eyes.  She had only seconds to catch her bearings.

They were in the center of the force Io had described.  Dozens of blue-armored Adamants were re-deploying to defend against a sudden charge from the south.  Sunset was close enough to see the surprise and terror on their faces as she appeared in their midst, hovering about ten or so feet off the ground.

She knew she only had a second to take in as much information as she could and act accordingly.

A white stone building was the most prominent thing in the area, with a gigantic relief of Rarity’s cutie mark on the façade.  The windows were dark and boarded over.

Several figures, some in white robes, some in gray, were beneath her, bound in chains.  They wore hoods, and their heads thrashed about in fear and confusion.

Among the prisoners were orange and purple armored ponies, all armed.

That would be her first focus, then.  Sunset landed hard on the icy street, just behind a Vigilant who was still partway through turning around to respond to the sounds he’d heard behind him.  His spear was held loosely in his hooves, but as soon as his eyes fell upon Sunset, wings spread and horn blazing, he screamed loudly and dropped to the ground, his spear clattering as his hooves shot up to cover his head.

Sunset didn’t have time to wonder about that.

“Coward,” a voice snarled, a Mystic Knight who was already pivoting to charge her, stepping over the cowering Knight.

But Life Flight was there, hitting the Mystic from the side in a spinning aerial dive that sent both ponies tumbling into a heap.

“Good one,” Sunset cried out, her horn blazing as she fired off a blast.  Each time she targeted one of the nearby Mystics.  Her first few blasts were small, and barely moved their targets at all.  Anti-unicorn enchantments, built into the armor, she remembered.  That’s when she started using physics. 

Perhaps the armor was enchanted against her magic.  But not everything was.  She started with the Vigilant’s fallen spear, lifting it up and hurling it through the air like an arrow.

It hit a charging earth pony Vigilant hard enough to shatter the metal spearhead, and she went down with a cry.

Sunset didn’t have time to see what exactly her shot had done.  She picked up the next missile, a chunk of ice.  This she slammed into the side of a Mystic in close melee with one of her Knights.

Over and over again Sunset’s improvised projectiles smashed into the enemy.  First it was one at a time, then two, then three, more and more until she was a whirlwind of destruction and chaos.  Even her own Knights stared at her with awe as her magical assault pushed the prisoners’ guards away from their circle of protection.

“Secure the prisoners!” she called to her Knights.  “Form a circle around them!  As tight as you can make it!”

She could see, to the south, that the rest of her Knights were fighting bitterly against the Adamants.  Oak had formed a wedge, trying to bore a line through the Diarchy Knights to reach Sunset and rejoin their forces.  But the Adamant commander was responding, reinforcing the line with her scant reserves.

“No,” Sunset scowled.  “Don’t try to break through.  Flank.  You have superior numbers.”

Oak was too far away to hear her, though.  She could guess what he was thinking; rejoin their forces to combine their strength.  But it was a mistake, and it was allowing the Adamant commander to respond well.

Sunset would just have to take care of it herself.  It was a good thing for their side, she thought a little proudly, that they had a sorceress trained by two princesses.

“Life, we’re going to push towards the rear of the Adamant lines,” she told her own commander.  Life nodded, but looked skeptical.  Her own gaze darted back and forth, screening for any threats coming towards the princess while the rest of her guard stood stalwart in a ring around her.  It was a small ring, though, with enough gaps to make both of them worried.

If the Adamant turned and focused on Sunset, they might be in trouble.

But the line was soon reinforced.  One of the prisoners, an absolutely huge stallion with rather dark fur and a bloodstained gambeson, limped up to towards her.  Two white-robed mares had scavenged fallen spears and were guarding Sir Dustoff’s flanks, even as the Angelic pegasus fended off three Mystics alone with the blade of his sword.  Even the young gray-robed ponies, probably squires, had found weapons and were standing ready to reinforce the line if it faltered.

“Dunno what’s going on,” the large stallion rumbled as he passed by, his expression incredulous.  “But looks like we just got saved by an alicorn.  Thanks, Highness.”

“Happy to help, Sir Slate,” she said, and the stallion nodded.  “Couldn’t have one of my Knights mourning the loss of her fiancé before they even have a chance to get married.”

“You’re probably getting an invite for that,” he noted, before roaring out a battle-cry and charging in alongside a Resplendent pegasus.

“Now, Lady Life,” Sunset ordered.  “We’re going to Oak.”

“Knights Resplendent, forward at a walk,” Life called out.  The line moved forward, and Mystic and Vigilant both were forced to give way as the new Knights advanced.  Sunset cast a shield, a half-dome above their heads that kept away any projectiles.  In the middle, wounded and frightened prisoners moved slowly, staying in the narrow bubble of safety she provided.

But their advance ground to a halt.  There just weren’t enough with Sunset to push hard, and too many prisoners to spread their line.  They’d taken the enemy by surprise, but this was an enemy that had plenty of experience fighting.

And her ponies did not.

The first to go down was one of the changelings.  Io, the scout, fell down, bleeding from a deep wound just below her horn.  Sunset couldn’t see if she was breathing or not.

One of the former Radiant prisoners was next, blood seeping through her robe from a spear thrust.

Sunset hadn’t learned her name.

She remembered the names, when she could.  Faces, when she could not.

It was Manehatten all over again.

There was a sound in her ears.  She was screaming.  Her concentration was faltering, and the shield above them was flickering. 

Another fell, a pegasus who’d flown with her from the Empire.  There was a look of shock and pain on his muzzle as he clutched at the spear shaft impaling him.

Movement by her side.

Dustoff.  He was doing something with his gauntlet.  Sunset hoped it was a healing spell, but in the haze of her growing rage, she couldn’t tell.

She poured magic into her horn.  She was Sunset fucking Shimmer, and she hadn’t come a thousand years into the future in order to just fall here.  That wasn’t the hero’s journey.  And it wasn’t hers.

Her shield thickened.  Grew.  The dome of blue light sealed off, closing the gap at the bottom and covering her Knights.

Trapping them all inside.  But at least they were safe.

“Heal them!” she gasped at Life Flight, her gaze darting to the fallen.  They weren’t the only ones; she could see, even at a distance, more limp figures in golden-red armor fallen in Oak’s lines as well. 

brought them here to die

disappointment

pretend princess, pretend scholar, pretend tactician

The voices of death swirled around Sunset as she watched her medic-turned-Knight move first to the fallen pegasus, before pursing her lips and moving on to Io.

“But…”

“I can’t help him, Princess,” Life said.  “But I can help her.”

Sunset swallowed and turned back to the pegasus stallion.  He was already still, his eyes glassy and dead.  She reached out and closed them.

“It was an honor,” she whispered.  She’d have to make sure to get his name from Oak.

The former Radiant prisoner was now healing her sister, and even Dustoff was patching up minor injuries.  He did look up with a worried glance to Sunset’s horn.

“What now?  We’re in the eye of the storm.  All you did was give them a chance to regroup.”

It was true.  The Mystics had re-formed their lines, and several Knights stood just outside the shield bubble, waiting.  Some of them were casting spells of their own; Sunset could feel nullification and countermagic spells, poking and scraping at her shield.  She stared back with contempt.

It was like a toddler slapping a mountain. 

But this mountain would get tired eventually.

“I know,” Sunset said to Dustoff.  “I know.”  She’d reacted.  The screams and terror of Manehatten echoed in her ears.  Anything to prevent that again.  “We have to hope Oak can…”

She trailed off.  There wasn’t more to say.  Oak and his force were fighting to a standstill.  He’d finally started to try and swing his reserves around to the Adamant flanks, but the Vigilants had re-deployed to protect them.

It seemed Oak wasn’t the only one making tactical blunders.

To Sunset’s shame, another old saying she’d read flashed in her mind, from another ancient general, Watch Tonne.

“Discipline is the soul of an army.  It makes small numbers formidable.”

Her moment of panic had squandered that.

“I’m going to teleport us out,” she said, even as she felt the strain of holding the shield around them.

“Can you?” Dustoff asked as he eyed her.  “You’re slipping, highness.  You’re tired.”

She was.  Him saying so made it worse.  Two huge teleports, with dozens of ponies, plus combat, hundreds of other spells, and now maintaining a shield that was under attack, however pitiful, was taking its toll.

Sunset wasn’t tired.  She was exhausted.

“I’m not having another Manehatten,” she scowled, and Dustoff’s eyes shot wide in fear and surprise.  “Not again.”

“We need a plan, then.”

“I told you.  Teleport behind Oak’s lines.  Regroup.”

“And if you can’t?”

If she couldn’t, who knows where they’d end up?  In the air?  Inside the ground?  Scattered in a billion atoms across New Canterlot?

Sunset didn’t have a choice.

“I see,” Dustoff continued.  “There may be another option.  I sent up a flare to signal those inside Diamond Home.”

“I’m not relying on some deus ex machina last minute charge of the Rohirrim to save me,” she muttered, mostly to herself.  But Dustoff gave her a confused look anyway.  Sunset shook her head.  She’d have to break herself of these habitual cultural references to her old home. “Nevermind.  You wouldn’t get it.”

“Well, I—”

Dustoff never finished his reply.  One of the Mystics casting spells just outside her shield suddenly fell to the ground, dead.  One less spell battering at her shield.  But what…

“You may not have a choice, princess,” Dustoff said, grinning.  He pointed with a hoof to where, backdropped against the gray clouds, Sunset could barely make out a trio of figures.  “There’s your deus ex machina.”

One of the figures leveled a long rifle.  It was too far away to hear the sound, but another Mystic fell.

“Meet my wife,” Dustoff smirked.  “And here comes the cavalry.”

His ears strained, and Sunset couldn’t help the strange mix of relief and chagrin as she perked hers as well.

It was a battle cry.

“Fly!  Fly for family and kin!  Shield them with the wings of the Angels!”

Not just from the three pegasi in the sky.  But from dozens.  Maybe even a hundred white Knights, wings flared, weapons drawn, cresting the line of buildings to fall like a reaper’s scythe on the Diarchy Knights.

Sunset relaxed with a sigh as the flame of hope once again rekindled in her heart.

Not like Manehatten after all, it seemed.
> Chapter 70
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 70


Note addressed to Grand Master North Wind, from Grand Master Steadfast Word.  Found in the ruins of the Star Shine Building.

Everything is in your hooves now.

I have laid the groundwork.  I have accepted the hard task and taken the sin upon myself.

You shall build upon the foundation I dug.

Saints have mercy on me.

Star Shine Building, New Canterlot City, 1113 AF

“Stand up.  Bring her with you if you want, but don’t tarry.  We have little time.”  Steadfast Word’s voice held nothing of the warm, almost fatherly tone Emberglow remembered.  She blinked at the tears in her eyes, looking down at Rarity’s limp form.

“Can’t you give us a moment?”  Her eye kept sliding back up to the cleanly severed stump of a horn on Rarity’s forehead, nestled in the sweat-matted wisps of purple mane.  “Isn’t there enough compassion left in you for that?”

“Compassion?” Steadfast barked a humorless laugh.  “It is compassion that drives me, Emberglow.  Compassion for the world.  For everypony in it who will suffer if I fail.”  For a moment, his monstrous white eyes seemed to soften.  “You have one minute.”

“Rarity?  Rarity, love, I need you to wake up. Please.”  Emberglow gently brushed a lock of mane out of Rarity’s face.  She leaned down, kissing her forehead gently, before glaring up at Steadfast.  “I’m not following you without her.”

Steadfast lowered his spear, its blade hovering above Rarity’s torso.  “Unacceptable. I will destroy her and drag you along with me.  You are necessary.  She is not.”

“If you’d give me a gauntlet, I could…”

Steadfast’s cold look stopped her, and she turned back down to Rarity, gently shaking her with her hooves again.  Rarity was breathing shallowly, but her eyes would not open.  “Please,” Emberglow whispered.

“Here,” Steadfast finally said, and Emberglow looked up.  Steadfast was holding out a canteen, and Emberglow took it, eyes narrowing with suspicion.  Steadfast snorted.  “You don’t trust me?”

Emberglow stared at him, meeting his cold gaze to hers, before deliberately looking down.  She took a small drink from the canteen first, rolling the liquid around in her mouth for a few seconds before swallowing.  It was just water.  She splashed a little on Rarity’s face, watching her muzzle scrunch up a bit, before she trickled a little into her slack jaw. 

At first there was nothing, and then Rarity coughed, sputtered, and swallowed.  Her eyes shot open, hazed with pain, but to Emberglow it was like uncovering precious jewels.  She hugged her love tightly.

“I was too late,” she whimpered.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Emberglow,” Rarity whispered back, and Emberglow sobbed again.  “I am glad you are safe.”  She lifted her own hooves to hug back, albeit weakly.

“We have little time, ponies.  Come.”  Steadfast nudged Emberglow, hard, with the butt of his spear.

“Can you walk?” Emberglow said gently, and felt Rarity’s nod.  “I don’t want you to die.  He’ll kill you if you can’t.”

“A bit late for that, darling,” Rarity said, blinking away tears as she felt at her forehead with one hoof.  She let out a small whimper, but gently pushed Emberglow back, turning and placing shaky hooves on the ground.  “I shall manage, you cruel thing.  Point your weapons elsewhere.”

“Very well.  Emberglow, you know she is weak.  If you flee, or otherwise delay me, I will end her.”

“You already did,” Emberglow snarled, and Steadfast merely shrugged.

“You get to decide how her last days are, then,” Steadfast said.  “Follow.  I won’t ask again.”

Rarity struggled to her hooves, trembling.  Emberglow steadied her with a hoof, before slipping a wing around her.

“How are you feeling?” Emberglow asked, before cursing herself for the question.  The two of them stepped over the broken door of Steadfast’s office, into the rubble-strewn hallway.

“Cold, darling,” Rarity whispered back.  “Cold and empty.”  She leaned into Emberglow, nestling under her wing.  “But I’m glad that you’re here with me.”

“I will stay by your side forever,” Emberglow choked out.

Steadfast never turned to look or acknowledge their words, and the two mares stumbled down the hallway after him.

The rest of the building felt eerily quiet.  The intensity of Emberglow’s ingress had faded, punctuated only by the sounds of continued fighting downstairs.  The atrium.  With a shudder of horror she thought about the crowd of refugees there.

“How are you doing, Emberglow?” Rarity said, shivering as Emberglow helped her past the still, slumped forms of the bodies that filled the hallway.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t help it, darling.  I love you.”

It sent a cold sort of shiver down Emberglow’s spine, and she leaned over to nuzzle Rarity’s cheek.  “No, please.  I’ll be okay.  It’s you I…” she choked.

“You could just run.  Leave me.  I’m…”

“Don’t you say it,” Emberglow hissed.  “And I won’t.  I won’t leave your side.  Not ever.”

“Darling…”

They followed Steadfast down an unfamiliar hallway, to an elevator.  Steadfast leaned out and pushed the button on the elevator with the butt of his spear, before motioning to them both with the point.  “Inside, please.”

Rarity scowled at him, but the two shuffled into the elevator, and Steadfast climbed in beside them.  He reached out and pushed the down button, and the doors slid closed behind them with a clatter of machinery.  The elevator gave a tremendous lurch, metal screeching against metal as the contraption dipped and slid downwards.

In the confines of the elevator, the cold wind that seemed to follow Steadfast everywhere pressed close around them.  In seconds Emberglow and Rarity were both shivering, their teeth chattering.  Steadfast himself seemed unaffected, though his mane swayed and ruffled in the wind.

“Why didn’t you ever respond to my letter?” Steadfast asked suddenly, his eyes jerking to Emberglow.

“You didn’t listen to Mercy?” Emberglow shot back.  “I want nothing to do with you.”

“Yet you were drawn back here.  As if you had no other choice.”

“I had no other choice!” Emberglow shouted.  “You kidnapped Rarity.  You maimed her!”

“You do feel strongly about her, don’t you?” Steadfast said.  His voice was casual, as if he were discussing nothing more important than a snowstorm.  “No matter.  Whatever it was that drew you back here, it was destiny.  We are both Elements of Harmony, after all.”

Emberglow’s mind froze.  No.  It wasn’t possible.  It couldn’t be…

The silence was broken by Rarity’s coughing laughter.  “You?  An Element of Harmony?  How pathetic.  You sully her name with your lies.”

“Believe it or not, it doesn’t matter to me,” Steadfast said emotionlessly.  “But I bear the Element of Magic.  She spoke to me, when I touched it.”

“Oh?  What did she say?”  Emberglow could hear the curiosity in Rarity’s voice, despite the circumstances.

“That’s between her and I, isn’t it?” Steadfast said.  Rarity scowled.  “But Emberglow.  You should have answered.  I…”  He paused, his ears turning, darting about as if listening for something.  “No.  No.  It is not necessary.  No!  I will not!”  He blinked a few times, his eyes losing focus for a moment before looking at Emberglow again.  “But you should have answered.  I need you.  You need me.  We need all the Elements.”

“And will you torture and maim the others, as well?  What if the other elements are unicorns?” Rarity growled.  Steadfast waved a hoof.

“Then they can serve their purpose towards ponykind, before making the sacrifice all unicorns must make.” Steadfast said.  “Are you telling me that is so?  Are there unicorns among the chosen ones?”

Emberglow and Rarity both stared at him.

The elevator lurched to a halt, and Emberglow nearly stumbled to the floor trying to hold Rarity up.  Steadfast reached out to the iron door, and with a powerful yank, wrenched it open.  Emberglow stared at the place his hoof had touched; hoarfrost collected along the wrought iron.  Emberglow locked eyes with Rarity, and they shared a frightened look.

“Come.  I need to show you.  You need to see why.”  Steadfast sounded tired.  He stepped off the elevator, into a blank hallway.  “You need to know.  I need you to know.”  He paused, looking up.  “Peridot.  Jumpy.  Joy.  Brightblade…”

They stood, silently, waiting in the hallway while Steadfast breathed in and out, slowly, frozen.  A tremendous shake wracked his body from head to tail, and he stumbled, before spinning to stare at them.

“What… what did you… you cannot…” he stammered, holding a hoof to his forehead, breathing slowly.  “I…”

Emberglow and Rarity took a step back, and Steadfast suddenly jerked, leveling the spear at them.  “No.  No, I can… I can do this.  Bring your Element.  We need to find a scroll.  I left one in Joy’s laboratory.”  The spear’s tip shook.  “Follow me.”

The long hallway ended at an imposing steel door, and was filled with nothing but the sounds of three sets of hooves echoing along the stone walls.  But Steadfast didn’t approach the door, instead turning to the right, into a smaller room.  “Just a detour, then we shall face our destiny together as Elements, hm?”  He pushed the door open, once again leaving behind the shadow of hoarfrost on the surface.

Inside was a laboratory.  The walls were lined with bookshelves, and four tables inside were covered with alchemical equipment: glass bottles, alembics, candles, and pages of notes.  The room smelled musty and foul, and Emberglow recoiled.

“It’s like you can feel it…” Steadfast whispered.  “We killed a goddess in this room, you know.  And all I had to pay to do it was one overzealous friend.”

“You are a monster,” Rarity sobbed.  Emberglow felt bile rise in her throat.  “You… you destroyed one of the greatest, most wonderful—”

“She was an abomination.  A threat,” Steadfast said.  He looked away, his eyes sad.  “I only did what I was forced to do.” 

“She was an alicorn, you idiot,” Rarity sneered, and Emberglow did her best to hold on to the trembling mare, perhaps to stop her from doing something dire.  “She could have solved all of this for you.  If you’d let us try.”

“I won’t fall for unicorn lies,” Steadfast’s eyes darkened with zealous determination.  “We don’t need to take poison into our breast just to correct a problem that we are fully capable of solving ourselves.”

“Are you, though?” Rarity pushed.

“I am,” Steadfast said, turning his back on them and walking over to one of the tables, where a stack of papers waited.  “I was born for this.  It is my burden.” He shuffled through them with a hoof, before his eyes lit up.  He passed the paper over to Emberglow.

She eyed it suspiciously.  It was totally blank.

“What is—”

“Dragonfire scroll.  You will summon the other Elements.”

“I won’t!” Emberglow snarled.  It felt impotent.

Steadfast watched her steadily. “You will.  Your purpose here is to save the world.  To remake it in Harmony.  My purpose is to lead you to do so.  This would have been so much easier if you’d come when I’d asked.”  He blinked, and growled.  “You didn’t have to run.  You could have listened.” With each new word, his eyes seemed to flare, glowing with a cold, baleful energy.  “And now everything is imperiled, because of you!  You spoiled, ungrateful…” His head twitched, and he blinked again, taking a deep breath.  “Nevermind.  It doesn’t matter.  You’ll see the consequences of your rebellion soon enough.”

It didn’t sound like the Steadfast Emberglow knew.  She shared another frightened look with Rarity.

“I don’t care what you tell them.  Tell them not to come.  Tell them it’s a trap.  But the Elements will come if you message them.”

“I…” Emberglow opened her mouth to refuse again, but Steadfast leveled the spear at Rarity’s throat.  With a growl, Emberglow snatched up the paper.  Steadfast held up a pencil off the desk next.

“Write.”

Emberglow blinked back helpless tears and put the pencil to paper.

Steadfast captured me and Rarity in Star Shine basement.  Rarity’s horn gone.  Steadfast made me write this.  Don’t come, it’s a trap.

Emberglow glanced up when she finished, staring into Steadfast’s cold gaze.

“You said you didn’t care what I wrote,” she said defiantly, and Steadfast shrugged.  He held up his hoof, doing a quick spell to light one of the candles.  He held the candle out to her.  “I… um, I’ve never used a—”

“Think of the recipient.”  Steadfast sounded as if his patience was cracking.  “Hold their image, their voice, in your head.  Then ignite the scroll in the candle flame.  The enchantment will find them.”  He began tapping his hoof on the floor, waiting as Emberglow carefully rolled up the scroll and touched the edge to the flame.  She thought of Heartwing, his odd eyes, his hooting laughter.

The scroll burst into green fire, consuming the paper in a breath while Emberglow yelped and jerked back.  But the flame was heatless and harmless, and she watched as a wisp of emerald smoke flitted towards, then through, the ceiling.

“Good.  Now.  I’m going to show you the Machine.  You need to know.  You need to understand. You need to see what I’m trying to build, and what I’ve been trying to prevent.”

He brushed past them, shoving Rarity into Emberglow and earning a startled complaint as he made for the lab’s exit.

“I’m not sure if I can see a way out of this, Emberglow,” Rarity whispered, barely making a sound.  Emberglow nodded.

“I’ll look for an opportunity, but I will not risk you.  We’ll go with him for now.”  She hated the idea of being the damsel in distress, waiting for her friends to show up and save her from the villain.  But that was really beginning to look like the best option right now.

Back in the hallway, Steadfast was approaching the large steel doors.  Even in the chill of the corridor, Emberglow could feel an even greater cold radiating from the imposing metal.  Steadfast seemed unconcerned as he reached out and brushed a hoof against the surface.

Yellow light filled the corridor as dozens of runes flared to life on the surface of the door.  He reached out, tapping them quickly in an order too fast for Emberglow to see.  With another flash, the runes disappeared, and Steadfast pushed inwards.

The iron hinges gave a mighty creak, and Emberglow could see Steadfast’s muscles straining as he shoved.  With a grunt of effort, he moved the immense slabs enough to enter the dark room beyond.

“Come inside.  Come see the Machine.”  He waved with his spear, pointing for them to go first.  “Down the staircase to the bottom, please.”

Emberglow and Rarity stepped out onto a balcony overlooking an alien-looking artifice.  A black orb was suspended from the ceiling and walls by a series of steel chains, hovering over a hexagonal ring of obsidian crystals.  Both the ring and the steel orb were covered in crystals of frost.

give up

nothing to live for

let it roll over you

“Do you… do you hear them?” Steadfast breathed.  His eyes were fixed on the orb.  “Do you hear what they say?  They say I should kill you, Emberglow.  Just like I…” He screamed in pain, clenching a hoof to his head.  His spear clattered to the floor, unheeded, as Steadfast seemed to crumple in on himself.

Emberglow saw a window of hope.  “The door!” she shouted, and Rarity gave a quick nod, stumbling towards the open door while Emberglow lunged for the spear.  Her wings flared, pumping to give her just the slightest burst of speed. 

“No!” Steadfast shouted, just as Emberglow’s hoof curled around the weapon.  She felt a stab of agony as the room’s bitter cold condensed and seized around her hoof, freezing into an icy prism that fused her hoof, and the spear, to the floor.

Steadfast threw out another hoof, pointing at the open door.  A wall of ice, thick and clear, grew from the floor, cracking as it extended higher than Rarity’s head as she tried to flee, blocking their escape. 

“No!” he repeated, hissing with agony.  His narrowed eyes glowed with icy light.  “You cannot.  Not after what I’ve given.  So many dead.”  Emberglow tugged at the spear, at her frozen hoof, panting as Steadfast approached.  She looked up at him just in time to see his hoof, descending towards her face.  His slap knocked her onto the floor, her stuck hoof twisting painfully as she screamed.

Steadfast shoved his face close to Emberglow’s and she recoiled.  There was frost on his fur and mane, and it was growing.  He put a hoof against her barrel, shoving her hard and twisting her stuck hoof even more.  Icy cold radiated from his hoof into her fur as she tried to squirm away.

“Look at what you’re doing to me, Emberglow,” he hissed.  “I should… I should hurt you.  I need to…”  He trailed off as he shoved, pushing hard into her barrel, his frigid hoof grinding against her ribs through her armor.  “You need to be punished for your rebellion.  Scourge you.  Flay you.”

As he spoke, his words took on an echoing quality, as if the wind was whisking them away, floating them around the room.  She panted, her breath fogging in the intense cold.  Only something was odd.  Steadfast’s breath didn’t do the same.

With a sudden surge of revulsion, Emberglow twisted, the bones in her hoof protesting as she lined her hind hooves as best she could before kicking hard.

Her hooves slammed into Steadfast’s chest, and he grunted and jerked slightly, stepping back.  It was enough time for Emberglow to finally wrench her hoof free of the ice that held her.  The spear remained stuck to the ground.

Emberglow scrambled back and away, scooting so she was between Steadfast and Rarity.  Steadfast, though, stood where he was, shaking and jerking.  His lips moved silently, and tears leaked from his eyes.

Tears that, to Emberlgow’s horror, froze into tiny icicles immediately.

“Why can’t you… why can’t you…” he breathed, turning slowly so that he faced the two of them.  He reached down to the stuck spear and ripped it off the floor effortlessly.  “Last chance, Emberglow.  Down the stairs.”

“A-are you all r-right, d-darling?” Rarity’s teeth were chattering.  Emberglow nodded, wrapping a wing around Rarity.  She felt like she didn’t have much warmth to give, but what she had she would share.

Warily, keeping their eyes on Steadfast, the two of them made their way down the spiral staircase.  Emberglow limped on her wounded hoof.  It hurt, but didn’t seem broken.

“What is happening to him?” Rarity whispered, and Emberglow shrugged.  “Has he always been this… unstable?”

Emberglow shook her head.  “Never.  This is… it has something to do with this place.”

She knew she was right.  He was responding to the voices the same ones she did her best to ignore, tickling at the edges of her mind.

At the bottom of the stairs, nestled up against the crystal ring, was what looked like a small workstation.  Atop it rested a pile of books, some papers, and even a random assortment of paperweights, as well as a small pillow.

“This is where I come to be alone,” Steadfast said, and then laughed.  “Only I’m alone all the time, now.  Everypony leaves me.  Or dies.  Peridot.  Brightblade.  Joy.  Jumpy.  You should all…I should—” he cut off with a gulp.

“We’re here now, Steadfast,” Rarity said.  “Tell us what you brought us all this way for.”

“You know why we’re here, don’t you?  You know what this machine is?”

Emberglow could guess.  This machine was why they had come to New Canterlot City in the first place. 

“It contains the creatures known as Windigoes,” she whispered.

As soon as she said it, the wind seemed to pick up, howling about the circular room like a whirlwind.  Emberglow’s mane and tail whipped about, her feathers trembling in the cold air.  Rarity pressed in against her.

“N-no matter what happens, stay close to m-me,” Emberglow continued, clutching her close.  Rarity nodded. She raised her voice.  “Yes, Steadfast.  I know what this m-machine is.”

“It was the only thing keeping us safe,” Steadfast said, descending the stairs himself.  He moved past them to the pile of books, pushing his hoof through the paperweights until he found one, what looked like a lump of purple amethyst.  “This is the true charge of the Knights Mystic.  This is why we exist.  To protect the Machine, and thus protect the Diarchy from those who would see it undone.

“The Machine,” he continued, “was not just a prison.  It was a generator.  Powering the most ingenious spell Tirek the Creator ever made.  It used one enemy to repel another and kept us all safe.  Until it started to falter.”

He lifted the crystal up to his chest.  “This is why the Element chose me.  I will save the Diarchy.  I will save us all.”

“F-from what?” Rarity laughed bitterly.  “From Harmony itself?  That’s what t-this machine was d-designed to repel.  Your own m-machine is anathema to the f-force you claim to lead.”  She huffed.  “You’re an ignorant f-fool.”

“AND YOU DID ANY BETTER?” Steadfast roared, wind whipping his mane and tail about.  Shards of ice and snow filled the air around him, swirling like a whirlwind as he approached them.  “YOU AND YOURS ABANDONED EQUESTRIA!”  He waved his spear erratically.  “I will be a better Element of Magic than Twilight Sparkle ever was!  I will succeed where she failed!  I will bring peace!  And I won’t leave the job half done,” he finished with a vicious snarl.

Emberglow shoved Rarity so she was behind her, spreading her wings to shield her as best as she could from the onslaught of ice.  It hurt to spread her wings, to hold them open even as they began to freeze.  Finally Steadfast shrank back, and the wind seemed to slow.  Emberglow shook frost from her feathers.

“S-sorry, I…” he gasped, then looked back up at the shield.  “You need to know.  You need to understand what I’m doing.  I need you to understand, Emberglow.  You’re my…”

“I am nothing to you,” she interrupted.  Steadfast jerked back, and his eyes hardened.

“Very well.  But you must listen.”  He pointed a hoof at the machine.  “Even now, the Machine is in its final moments.  It’s why that abomination was able to approach the capital.  But when it breaks, the prisoners inside will break out.  And they will ravage the Diarchy.  Only the Elements can stop them.”

“Ponies never needed the Elements to defeat Windigoes before,” Rarity said.  “All we needed was harmony.  Friendship, between earth ponies, pegasi, and unicorns.  That’s all it takes.”

“We’re past that now,” Steadfast hissed, and placed the crystal on the ground in front of him.  “Now.  Tell me your secrets, Rarity.  The Element is mine.  Twilight spoke to me when I touched it.  So why won’t it respond to me now?”

“T-that?” Rarity laughed.  “You think that is the Element of Magic?  Darling, the cold has gone to your brain.”

“Believe what you will.  When I found this, it was hidden away in our secret archives, inside a book that hadn’t been touched for centuries.  The book crumbled to dust when I touched it, and I reached for the fallen gem. It was shaped like the six-pointed star of Twilight Sparkle’s cutie mark.  I touched it.  There was a fleeting vision, a moment where I thought I could see her.  And she said…” Steadfast shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  When I awoke from the vision, the Element looked like this.  I assure you it is what I say it is.”

He stepped closer to them, and Emberglow shrunk back, taking Rarity with her.  “Now.  You knew her.  Tell me how to make it work, again.  How do I make the spark?”

“You c-can’t force it, you c-cretin!” Rarity shouted.  “T-true magic c-comes from loyalty, kindness, lau—”

She never got to finish.  There was a tremendous crack from up above, something striking against the ice barrier Steadfast had left in place.  All three looked up.

“Tell me!  Now!” Steadfast hissed, surging forward and shoving Emberglow aside with a brutal strike of his spear.  His grip twisted in the front of Rarity’s blouse, and with one hoof he lifted her into an awkward half-sit, before lifting her even further so she was standing on her hind hooves.  Steadfast was floating, Emberglow realized with horror, his hooves suspended on wisps of white, snowy wind.  “How do I make the spark?  The world is doomed to a frozen death if you do not!”

“I… I told you, you can’t.  You, Steadfast, will never b-be able to make it work.” Rarity grunted and choked.  “Where is your friendship?  Where is the generosity and laughter?  The loyalty, honesty, and kindness?  You are barren.”  As she spoke, the lumpen, uneven gem in Steadfast’s hoof pulsed with light.  They both noticed, and Steadfast’s eyes went wide.

Emberglow lunged for them both, but Steadfast slammed her back with a wide swing of his spear.  The haft impacted against her right leg and tossed her aside to bounce against the tile floor.  Rarity’s strained words continued, forced out through chattering teeth.

“You… are… not… the Element of M-magic! You cannot walk in Twilight Sparkle’s horseshoes!”  Rarity seemed to gain strength as she spoke.  “AND YOU NEVER WILL BE WORTHY OF HER MEMORY!”

Another loud crack came from above, and Steadfast screamed with frustration.  “No!  I am the only—” his head jerked, spasming back and forth.  “No, I cannot!  There’s no…” He hissed in fury.  “I will.  I will!  Only leave me be!  I will overcome!  I will rise!  And you will be nothing!”

The wind had become a localized maelstrom, and he tossed Rarity casually away.  She hit the ground with a thud and a cry of pain, and Emberglow rushed to her, shielding her with her body.

Steadfast, meanwhile, was rising into the air.  He reached into his armor, pulling out a glass vial with a familiar looking chalky potion inside.  Emberglow gasped.  It was a potion of Knighthood.

“If you won’t tell me your secrets, unicorn, I’ll take them from your soul.”  He held up the potion in one hoof, and the Element in the other.  “You have a connection to this.  We both know it. We both saw.  So if it won’t respond to me, maybe it will respond to a piece of you.”

Emberglow stared in horror.  The potion was made from Rarity’s horn.  She didn’t know how she knew, she just knew, and the idea made her want to retch. But Steadfast didn’t give her enough time to consider what was happening.  With a mighty throw, he slammed the gem against the ground, where it shattered with a musical tinkling sound into a billion little pieces.

“No!” Emberglow and Rarity both shrieked in horror.

The purple dust, all that was left of the Element of Magic, swirled and spun through the air, making lavender trails in the whirlwind that surrounded Steadfast.  While the two mares watched with terror, he pulled the cork off the vial, and like magic, the purple dust swirled inside, as if attracted to the concoction it held.  The liquid churned and discolored, forming a grayish purple mass.  Steadfast stared at it, his cold eyes somehow twisted with terror.

There was another crash from the ice barrier up above.

“There is… there is no other way.”  Emberglow could barely hear his whisper over the cold wind.  He tipped the vial back and drank it.

A third crack came from above, accompanied by a loud shatter as the barrier finally broke.  Ponies rushed in from above, first Terminus, buffeted about by the maelstrom as he flew in with Emberglow’s shield held in front of him. Then Heartwing, Lofty, and even Topaz rushed through.  Emberglow could not hear their shouts and cries over the wind whipping about her head, but even seeing them brought a sort of comfort.

Heartwing didn’t bother with the stairs, instead leaping over the edge of the balcony to land right next to Emberglow, cracking the tile floor with his hooves, his new prosthetic making a metallic clang on the floor.  With a flash of his horn, a yellow shield appeared around them.  Terminus landed soon after, and Topaz and Lofty came down the stairs.

“Situation?” Heartwing shouted.

“Steadfast just drank a Knight potion.  Made of R-rarity’s horn.  And he smashed the Element of Magic!”

Four pairs of horrified eyes shot to the stump of Rarity’s horn, before looking back up at the figure writhing in the storm above them.  Steadfast was doubled over, his mouth wide open in a silent scream of pain.  Blue light leaked from his eyes, and tears dissolved into puffs of snowy air as soon as they made contact with the air.

“We have to kill him,” Terminus gripped his spear, landing next to Heartwing.  Heartwing nodded, and Lofty stepped up, the three of them leveling their spears up at the twisting figure.  “It’s the—”

“I HAVE DONE IT.” Steadfast’s voice boomed through the room, reaching over the wind to shake the walls and floors.  Each of the ponies flinched, their ears pinning back.  “I HAVE GATHERED THE ELEMENTS OF HARMONY.  AND NOW THE SPARK IS INSIDE ME.  YOU HAVE TO KNOW.  YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND.  BUT YOU CHOOSE IGNORANCE AND REBELLION.  SO I WILL MAKE YOU UNDERSTAND.”

Heartwing tried to step forward, but nearly lost his footing when the wind pushed him back.  Steadfast raised his hooves in the air, his entire body still trembling with agony.

The ice in the storm began to collect, forming along his hooves like some sort of gauntlet.  A line of ice connected them, before extending further out, finally forming what appeared to be a giant spear of ice. 

“IF YOU WILL NOT HELP ME BY CHOICE, YOU WILL HELP ME BY DESPERATION!”

Every muscle in Steadfast’s body clenched, and he rammed the spear down at the black steel orb.  Metal screeched and ice shattered, splintering against the shield in a thousand little flashes of light.  Brittle white lines of frost spread over the black metal.  The screeching deepened in a dissonant crescendo until each of the ponies were clutching their ears at the unholy wail. 

“IT IS DONE.  NOW NOTH—”

He never finished.  With a deafening explosion, the orb shattered, hunks of shrapnel flinging through the air and embedding themselves into the wall.  One piece struck Steadfast in the chest, spraying blood into the wind.  It froze into trailing red clumps almost the moment it touched the air.

Another chunk, larger than a pony, slammed the shield hard enough to toss Heartwing backwards.  The golden orb of magic flickered and faded, and everypony braced against the renewed onslaught of the wind.

With horror, Emberglow watched as shapes began to form in the wind.  Ponies, she thought at first, but they were too large.  Long, thin legs ended in sharply glinting hooves.  Thin, wispy manes stretched over emaciated barrels, skin stretched tightly over skeletal ribs.

But their faces were the worst.  Rows of jagged icicle teeth snarled in open maws, their subzero breath adding to the flurry of ice and snow filling the room.  Eyes, empty and dead, bored into Emberglow.

And that’s when she heard the voices again, more clearly than she ever had before.

sharpen our teeth on their bones and pick through the

consume them and move on all the ponies the whole city is

the blood the blood is hot it steams freeze it freeze it forever

steadfast is the one he hurt you broke you tore you kill him

kill them all then be free to ravage

“FACE ME, WINDIGOES,” Steadfast shouted.  “I AM YOUR FOE!  YOU HAVE SOUGHT TO CORRUPT ME FOR DECADES BUT I HAVE HELD STEADFAST!  ELEMENTS, AID ME, OR THESE CREATURES WILL RAMPAGE ACROSS THE DIARCHY.  THOUSANDS WILL SUFFER.”

take the fool he is ours has always been ours

he listens he never should have but he did

we will go inside we will own him rule him

As if they were one creature, the starved, shriveled things turned and looked at Steadfast.  The whirlwind converged, spinning tighter and tighter around him.

we can take him join with

drawn inside we feel stolen magic stolen from

could be ours will be ours so hungry

no no no too strong will too

there is hurt and pain and

we cannot we cannot we cannot

To Emberglow, they sounded afraid.

There was a sickeningly liquid sound, and the Windigoes began to flow like water into the bloody hole in Steadfast’s chest.  They whinnied in panic as one after another they were sucked in and absorbed.  Icy shards erupted from Steadfast’s body, slicing through his flesh as he convulsed and wailed in agony, his screams audible even over the wind.

“YOU WANTED THIS!” Steadfast howled.  “YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD CON… CONSU…”

“Any ideas?” Lofty shouted to the assembled ponies.  

Terminus gave Emberglow her shield.  Her hooves shook as she strapped it on. “Sorry, no spare weapons,” he whispered.  

She shrugged hopelessly.

“There’s nothing.” Emberglow sounded despairing, even to her own ears.  “There’s nothing to do!  He destroyed the Element of Magic!  It’s… he consumed it!”

Rarity opened her mouth to say something.  She looked tired and confused, her gaze locked on Steadfast.  But she stayed silent.

“Like calls to like,” Heartwing recited, eyes frozen on the horrific figure twitching and spasming in the air above them.  “Corruption summons corruption.”

“You know what’s happening?” Lofty yelled.  “How do we stop it?”

“We kill him,” Heartwing said grimly.  Terminus and Lofty both spared a sympathetic look for Emberglow, but she nodded.

Maybe if they had the Element of Magic, things could be different.  “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll draw his attention.  Lofty and Terminus, look for a soft spot to stick a spear into.  Emberglow, keep Topaz and Rarity safe.  Get them free and clear if you see an opening.”

“But I…” Topaz began to protest.

“We brought you when there was a chance we needed the Elements,” Lofty said.  “Now…”

“It’s best if you get to safety,” Heartwing said, and Topaz gulped and nodded.

            Elements of Harmony.  You may rest.

The words were not spoken, they were whispered, carried through their heads and their bodies like a freezing wind.  Each of the ponies looked up.  Steadfast had stopped screaming and twisting.

The stallion that used to be Steadfast was changed.  This creature had large, jutting shards of ice protruding like broken bones from his limbs and torso.  He was taller, lankier, as if something had stretched what was left of Steadfast too thin over an expanding frame.  Like the Windigoes, his maw was now full of jagged icicles.  He opened his mouth to breathe, and once again the voice cut through them.

You may rest, little ponies, it repeated.  Rest forever the sleep of eternity.  I thought to goad you to helping defeat the creatures inside the machine.  But it is no longer needed.  The Windigoes and I have come to an arrangement. 

“Shut it down,” Heartwing hissed, and Lofty and Terminus both sprung into action, Terminus launching into the air while Lofty cut left.  Heartwing planted his hooves, horn afire as a tremendous beam cut through the air.  Emberglow was close enough to hear Heartwing’s grunt of effort.

Steadfast didn’t even lift a hoof.  The magic struck, pushing him back a few feet.  Steadfast grunted, flailing a hoof at Heartwing.  A shard of ice sliced through the air, and Heartwing swore and jerked back, just in time to avoid being eviscerated by the razor sharp projectile.

            I told you.  I don’t need you.  With the crystal princess dead and the Windigoes a part of me, I can move on to rebuilding what comes next.  And I realize now I made a mistake.

Emberglow could feel the cold of his words so deeply it hurt.

            I don’t need the Elements.  I never did.

            All I ever needed…

…was complete control.
> Chapter 71
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 71


Book of the Saints 50:59-60

After everything, this is my last word to you, Saint Twilight said.  Stay steadfast in the faith, until your dying breath, and you are assured to be a boon of righteousness to all ponykind.  Your light will shine as a beacon to all around you, and you shall be the armor that holds back the darkness.

Star Shine Building, 1113 AF

Dying was a singularly unpleasant sensation.

After years of euphemism and poetic overreaction, Rarity was displeased to realize she didn’t have any other words for it.

Physically, she felt mostly fine.  There was the knowledge that she was doomed, of course, weighing on her head, as well as the other immediate threats to her continued life.  But there, in the back of her head, was the constant sensation of being…

Drained.

She could feel it, there.  Like a piece of her was missing, an emptiness.  And with every breath this void grew.  Every time she exhaled it felt like the air took a small piece of her…completeness with it.  She could try to tune it out, to forget it for a few seconds, but never entirely.

And even in the midst of all this violence and chaos, she could still feel it.

Dripping.

Trickling away.

The pit inside her growing larger, with every grain of sand removed, one at a time.

Control was my strength and my weakness.  Nopony can hold all the puppet strings.  But I tried.  The more I controlled, the safer my ponies could be. 

As the wind-born words cut through them, Heartwing continued to blast away with his horn while Terminus and Lofty flitted about, looking for an opening.

I knew I couldn’t control everything.  Despite my efforts, I lost ponies.  Peridot.  Brightblade.  Puddle Jumper.  Emberglow herself fell to heresy.  So I sought another way.  Ponies are growing weak.  Inattentive.  Corrupt.  If only I could unite them.  Find harmony.  Lead them to be better.  Teach them correct principles and let them govern themselves.  BUT I WAS WRONG.

Steadfast waved a hoof, and a wall of ice jutted from the ground, growing shards spiking up into the air in a line heading straight for them.  Emberglow shoved Rarity with a hoof, holding her shield in front of them with the other.  The shards broke against the artifact, showering them with glass-sharp bits of cold. 

I was trying to manage the symptoms.  That’s all the Elements would have done, after all.  But why manage the symptoms when I can cure the disease?  And the disease is CHOICE.  FREEDOM. 

“Would you just shut up?” Heartwing wailed, firing off a dozen tiny shards of golden light.  They arched and spun through the air like missiles.  But his attack pattered ineffectually against Steadfast’s icy armor with little flashes of light.  “The Villain Monologue is one of the most overused tropes in literature!”

Please, Element of Loyalty.  Your help is no longer needed.  You and your silly idiosyncrasies are irrelevant.  Stay out of my way, and I will make your death quick.  There is no need for loyalty if ponies cannot choose to be disloyal.

But Heartwing hadn’t been striking to injure.  While Steadfast was distracted, Terminus had looped around behind and above before descending into a dive like a hawk, spear in front.

The steel blade impacted with a hard crack, splintering ice and digging into flesh.  Red spurted out of the wound, freezing almost the instant it hit the air.  Steadfast howled, his physical voice a banshee’s wail in the rushing wind.

Lofty hadn’t been idle, either.  As Steadfast twisted to face the pegasus, one hoof was frantically casting something.  Rarity watched as he coiled his legs, pointing his spear upwards right as he finished his spell.  With a mighty leap, Lofty Tale launched himself skywards in a jump that took him much higher than it should have.

Steadfast saw the new opponent in time to dodge the blade of Lofty’s spear, but not Lofty himself, who rammed his shoulder into Steadfast’s underside.  It knocked him off balance enough for Terminus to make another quick jab, shallower, but still drawing blood like the first.

In my Equestria you will not need to fight, Element of Kindness.  You will not need to struggle, Element of Generosity.  Lay down your weapons and submit.

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying,” Terminus growled.  He spun and flew, barely dodging Steadfast’s next few bolts of ice.

Lofty prepared another leap, launching up to the distracted Steadfast again.  But Steadfast spun in midair, his baleful eyes sharp, and Lofty had no time to dodge.

Steadfast swung both forehooves down in a powerful arc.  Rarity heard herself cry in dismay, her voice joining Emberglow and Topaz’ own dismayed wails.  There was nothing they could do as Lofty was unable to dodge; he was barely able to parry as Steadfast’s hooves slammed against the haft of the spear, shoving it, and Lofty himself, down towards the ground.

Terminus swooped down to catch him, but Steadfast turned and bucked with his hindhooves.  It didn’t look like a solid hit to Rarity, but Terminus still went spinning through the air, barely managing to pull out of the chaotic spiral before slamming against a far wall.

Meanwhile Lofty crumpled against the ground, crying out in pain.  Topaz rushed to his side.  Emberglow jerked, before shooting a worried look back at Rarity.

“Go make sure he’s okay,” she whispered.  “There’s no point in guarding me anyways.  I’m…”

Emberglow let out a low moan, and Rarity watched her swallow.  “N-no, I…”

Emberglow would never move until Rarity did, she realized. The mare was like spun glass right now; one bad hit away from being shattered forever.  With a grunt of effort, Rarity pushed herself to her hooves.  Her legs felt like noodles, and the ever-present sense of emptiness, of draining, seemed to surge for a moment.  She ignored it.  “Well, then, if you won’t go to him, you’ll have to follow me.”

“But…”

Each step was a struggle.  The cold crept into her muscles, and she felt stiff and sore.  Still, she had to go, so Emberglow could help her friend.

Above them, Terminus continued to swoop and dive, doing his best to draw Steadfast’s attention while Heartwing continued to fire magical blasts his way.  Golden light flashed through the air, cutting through the flurries of snow.

Give in, unicorn.  Relax.  Slip into oblivion and let go.  You don’t need to fight any longer.

Rarity grit her teeth and ignored the voice.  One hoof in front of the other.  Each step was a thousand years, and the floor was growing slick with ice.  Emberglow fluttered anxiously at her side, close enough so that Rarity could lean on her if she needed to.

“There,” Rarity coughed.  “Please.”

Emberglow pursed her lips, then turned to Lofty, her gauntlet flashing in a familiar pattern of healing runes. 

“Hurry,” Topaz begged.  She had picked up Lofty’s spear.  Its tip shook as she pointed it up at the monstrosity up above them. 

Your services will not be required in the new future, Element of Laughter.  What use is ephemeral joy when everypony will live unchanging lives of obedient constructive efficiency?

“You shut up!” Topaz screamed back. 

All of your efforts are futile.  Prolonging the inevitable and causing yourself more pain.  You fight, but I have not instructed you to fight.  You go against the order of things and must rest.  Do not worry, Elements of Harmony.  I will end you quickly.  It is the least I can do.

I am grateful, you see.  You are misguided and wrongheaded.  But your intentions are pure.  And for that you deserve the mercy of a quick death, if you will submit to it.

“Submit to my hoof up your plothole,” Heartwing snarled, firing a barrage of deadly yellow magic.

Your crudeness and pejorative speaking is tiresome, Element of Loyalty.  I shall end you first.

Rarity saw Emberglow’s whole body stiffen as she stepped to the side, shield raised protectively in front of Heartwing.  But the attack didn’t come at Heartwing himself.

The deadly wind swirled like curling claws around all of them.  Topaz, Rarity, Lofty, and Emberglow all huddled in closer, making a protective circle around Heartwing.  Terminus stayed in motion as the wisps of frigid air lashed around them all.

Wherever they touched, razor-sharp shards of ice jutted from the ground.

“Terminus!” Emberglow howled, her voice straining above the wind.  He was exposed and vulnerable.

Terminus was the weak link in their chain right now, Rarity realized with horror.  Steadfast had seen it too.  One of the tendrils of wind curled around Terminus, like a horrifying appendage, throwing him hard at the other five.

Heartwing was preoccupied, caught in the act of firing another blast.  Terminus plowed into them like a bowling ball, and they went down like the pins.  Rarity grunted in pain.

Her ribs ached from the impact.  Her hooves, muzzle, and ears ached from the cold.  Her horn ached from…

…from…

Rarity shook her head rapidly to clear it, pulling herself up as best as she could.  The elements were scattered.  Terminus was limp.  Emberglow struggled to her hooves, raising her shield as best she could.

Then the tendril of icy wind slid across the ground between them, raising daggers of ice.  Rarity dodged with a yelp, and Topaz yanked Lofty back, still somewhat sluggish from his recent healing.  The ice missed Terminus entirely.

Heartwing, though…

He stood up, horn blazing, letting out a cry of panic.  Rarity stepped towards him, lunging.  The ice was coming.

Too slow.

A blade of frosty death fired up from the ground.

Heartwing grunted.  It was a soft sound, air expelled from his lungs as his eyes went wide.

A stalagmite of ice, nearly three hooves taller than Heartwing himself, impaled him through the barrel from underneath with enough force to lift his hind hooves off the ground a little.  It was narrow but deadly.  The top was now stained with Heartwing’s blood. 

His hindhooves spasmed, and then went completely limp.  Heartwing let out a whimper of pain as he slid to the ground, the shard that had impaled him sliding deeper inside.

“Heartwing!” Rarity wailed, reaching his side.  He looked up, his eyes glazed with pain.

“He’s really…” Heartwing grunted. “…getting to the point, finally.”

“Don’t you dare,” Rarity hissed, as Heartwing let out a chuckle that ended in a cough of blood.  “Don’t you even dare.  Emberglow!”

It was all too much.  Too much!  Rarity’s tears fell down her cheeks as hopeless denial filled her mind.

The sensation of draining, of leaking, seemed so much stronger right now.

“I…” Emberglow turned to look, but a blast of frigid wind pushed her back.  She raised her shield, bracing.  “I can’t right now!”

As Rarity’s last hope seemed to drain out of her, the hoarfrost grew on the hard ground around her, creeping up like little tendrils of white, deadly grass.  Rarity stared, hopeless.  Helpless.

“You know,” Heartwing coughed, blood trickling from his lips.  “It occurs to me we could always just be treating this like the first Hearth’s Warming.”

It was enough of a non-sequitur to jolt Rarity out of her malaise.  “Whatever are you talking about?”

“Well, there’s imbalance between pony tribes, and Windigoes are going to freeze us all into ponysicles.  Must be time for a song.”

Rarity looked up at the carnage about her.  Lofty was barely on his hooves, slamming the butt of his spear against the ice that was slowly creeping up toward Topaz.  Emberglow was frantically trying to brace her shield, pushing against the monster’s ongoing blast of cold wind.  Terminus was unconscious in a heap.  The hoarfrost was starting to collect on his hooves. “Heartwing, I hardly think…”

“Rarity,” Heartwing rasped.  “I’m going to die.”  He looked at the length of ice impaled through his torso.  Even his blood was freezing as it oozed down the length of the deadly spike.  “You’re going to die.  I don’t know how long…”  He spat, blood spraying against the hard floor.  “I’ll be damned if I don’t go out singing.  Only I can’t stand those cheesy carols, so pick something else?”

“That’s…” Rarity had to give a gallows laugh.  “That’s so you, Heartwing. Any requests?”

“Something that reminds me of Fluttershy.”

There was one song that came to mind.  But Rarity was dying.  She’d given up.  It seemed almost… hypocritical.

But there was a spark of determination in Heartwing’s eyes.  Even if hope was dead, he still found something to hope for.  Even if it was for the comfort of a familiar song as he died.

            	“Each one of us has something special

            	That makes us different, that makes us rare.”

“I remember that one,” Heartwing winced in pain.  “Thank you for bringing up one of my darkest moments.”

“Perhaps your darkest moment.  But one of your greatest triumphs.”  She felt the need to lift him up.  There wasn’t much else.

            	“We have a light that shines within us

            	That we were always meant to share.”

It was probably a trick of her imagination.  It couldn’t be possible that the frost was retreating from around them, was it?  Topaz met her eyes, desperate and hungry for hope.  Rarity nodded, and with a tensing of her muscles, Topaz tore her hooves free from the ice and rushed in for a quick embrace with Lofty.

            	“And when we come together

            	Combine the light that shines within

            	There is nothing we can’t do

            	There is no battle we can’t win.”

Terminus stirred, his eyes clenching tight before flickering open, his ears perking and straining towards the sound of Rarity’s voice. 

            	“When we come together

            	There’ll be a star to shine the way

            	It’s inside us every day.”

Steadfast howled, his voice echoing with legion, and the frost pressed in on them.  Lofty began casting a shield spell, even as Emberglow pulled back towards them.  In the tenuous safety of Lofty’s shield, she began to make her own.

“Is there a plan?” she croaked.  “That’s… that’s my last motes.”

“I think… I think the plan is to be together at the end,” Terminus said.  “And we thank whatever gods are watching us for this brief reprieve.”

Rarity silently agreed.  The Element was destroyed.  They’d failed.  But as she sung on, Heartwing joined his voice to hers.  It was frail and reedy, but she welcomed the harmony.

            	“Each one of us will sometimes falter

            	We may stumble, we may fall.”

Her words barely made it out of her throat; it was tight, and her eyes were wet.  Emberglow wrapped her free hoof around Rarity, holding her tight as Rarity sang.  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell them all to run, to flee.  To leave her and Heartwing behind.  Not everypony had to die today.  They could regroup and try again.  Rally the others.  Find other Knights.  Other allies.  Maybe even find out what happened to Princess Sunset, and gather at her side.

But Heartwing picked up the song, where she could no longer.

            	“But we still have a kind of magic

            	One that will see us through it all.”

Rarity met all of their eyes, while the maelstrom of snow and ice and hatred battered at the failing shield that kept them safe.  She saw pain and fear, resignation and courage.  She saw love.  And she saw—

A spark.

Something tugged at Rarity’s neck.  It was a chain.  The thin gold chain that Colibri had given her, holding the pendant that held the last tear of the Tree of Harmony.  Wonderingly, she worked a hoof free from Emberglow’s embrace and pulled it out.  In the dim light, it shined enough to reflect in each of their eyes.  Rarity brought it close, watching as the white light dimmed, then turned lavender.

And then she saw nothing.


*   *   *   *   *


All around was pure blackness.

And then there were stars.  A dozen pinpricks of light, then a thousand, then a billion, springing to life about Rarity as she twisted and spun in the comforting skyscape.  The pain was gone, as was the sensation of draining.  Still, she disliked the feeling of floating, her hooves thrashing about in midair until they landed on something solid.

It was rather disconcerting; she was standing on nothingness.  Rarity’s hooves were touching something she could stand on, something hard and firm, but she could see nothing beneath her.

            	You’re finally here…

The voice was everywhere and nowhere, so silent it was almost inaudible, but in the dead silence of this place, it seemed to pound into Rarity’s head anyways.  It was both like and unlike the whispers of the Windigoes; it was thought rather than sound, but this voice was warm.  She yelped and spun, looking for the source.  There was nopony around. 

“Where am I?”

Rarity’s own voice was oppressively loud.  The stars about her seemed to blink and flicker.

“You know where you are,” came another voice, a different voice, from behind her.  Rarity spun.

There was a figure of light and shadows.  It looked much like a tantabus; form and substance, but no detail.  A glowing aura created the vague shape of a pony, and the voice was androgynous and nondescript.

“Perhaps I need you to spell it out for me,” Rarity said, looking around.  She could guess, of course.  But she couldn’t believe.

“You’re close to the Path, Rarity.  The Starlit Path.  But do you know why you’re here?”

Rarity didn’t want to answer the question.  It was impossible.  “Who are you?”

“You don’t recognize me?” The voice managed to sound hurt, but there was a hint of a tease.  Then it laughed.  As it did so, the voice became higher, a little more feminine.  “We’ve met three times now.”  It, or perhaps she, tilted her head to the side, in a gesture that reminded Rarity of Pinkie Pie when she was confused.  “Or two times.  Time is different here.  While we’re waiting.”

“Waiting?”

“For rebirth,” the figure said simply.  She waved a hoof at the stars.  “These are the resting souls of past ponies, Rarity.  Waiting for their stars to shine once more in Equestria.  Waiting for another chance at life, another chance to live, to love, to grow and hurt and cry and cheer.”

“Am I dead?” Rarity’s heart ached.  Emberglow would be heartbroken.  The poor dear didn’t deserve this.

But the figure shook her head.  “Not yet.  You are very close, though.  The Starlit Path looks out over the souls in the sky.  It twists and flows through them, coming close but not touching.  I am here to show you to the Path, so you can talk to her.”

“Her?”

“Each of the Elements has spoken to their predecessor, Rarity.  Who do you think?”

This was what Rarity had wanted to avoid thinking about.  “It can’t be me.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” There were a billion reasons.  She wasn’t Twilight Sparkle.  She wasn’t as smart, or as good with magic.  She wasn’t as adept at friendship, or leadership.  She could never live up to what Princess Twilight had done, who she was.  And then there was the biggest problem.  “—because I’m dying.”

“Starlight once told me that the length of time we have doesn’t matter; it is the choices we make with that time that are important,” the figure mused.  “That was before she couldn’t follow her own advice, of course.”  She shook her head.  “Because of you and your friends, she’s out there, among those beautiful lights.  Ready to be reborn again.  Thank you.  My other half, my friend, my sister, can be reborn.  I can find her again.”

“…Trixie?” Rarity gaped at the figure.

“And a dozen other ponies, a dozen other lives,” the figure said.  “All just as great and powerful. Here we come to rest, and we slough off the worries and cares of our lives.  We don’t remember much.  But I have been given glimpses, so I can guide you to her.  If you want.”

“If I…”

“You’re close, Rarity.  One thought and you’ll slip over the edge.  Your body fades, and your soul finds… rest.”  There was a finality to the last word, as well as a reverence that made Rarity both shudder with fear and long for the embrace of the darkness around her.  “Eventually, your light will find its way into another pony, another body, another life.  You will remember nothing, but the new you will be just as amazing and wonderful as you are.  Just as every one of ‘me’ has been great and powerful.  Even if she didn’t remember it.”

“And if I don’t want that?”

“Then you follow me. And you find Princess Twilight and embrace a different Path; something beyond death and rebirth.”

It still didn’t exactly resolve the problem of her impending doom.  But it was a chance to do something more.  To turn things around.  With the Elements, maybe they stood a chance against the eternal winter.  Maybe they could fix things.

“Take me to her.”

“It’s not that simple.” The figure shook her head.  For a moment, Rarity thought she could see the starlight trailing about her head like a mane.  “I can guide you.  But you have to find her yourself.”

“Trixie, darling.”  Calling her that didn’t sound quite right, but Rarity was beginning to feel impatient.  “While you’re being vague and cryptic, my friends are out there…”

“Time doesn’t mean the same thing here that it does out there,” the figure said.  “I promise that if you choose to, you will return to the battle before much time has passed.”

”Then what do I have to do to move this along?” Rarity demanded.

The figure laughed.  “I’m usually the impatient one, not you.  But very well, Rarity.  In order to find Twilight, you have to find the Path.”

“The others didn’t have to find their own way, when they came here,” Rarity said.  Her mind drifted back to the rare conversations she’d had with Emberglow, Heartwing, Terminus, Lofty, and Topaz.  “Even Princess Twilight didn’t…”

“Everypony reaches the Path a different way,” the figure interrupted.  “Sunset nearly died to get there.  Twilight was teleported there in a burst of Harmony magic.  Flurry was born with one hoof on the Path already.  And you…”

“What are you implying?” Rarity’s heart thudded loudly in her chest.  “Trixie?  Or, whoever you are now?  What exactly are you saying about me?”

But the figure didn’t answer her question. “How did you find yourself here, Rarity?”

“I was… I am dying.  I’d given up, lost all hope.  But then Heartwing asked me to sing.”  Perhaps Heartwing had been doing more than just trying to fill his last moments with music.  Perhaps he’d been doing something more.  “We gathered together.  Even in hopelessness, I tried to bring us together.  And then I saw the spark.”

“You bound them together, Rarity.  You gave them hope in the darkness.  You brought the spark, Rarity.”

Rarity looked down at her hooves.  The solid invisible barrier below her was sparkling with light, forming a wandering path onwards into the stars.  She began to walk slowly, one hoof after another.

“Every choice you made, every victory, every mistake, every lucky win and every setback, brought you to where you are now.” 

It was true.  As she stepped, the images appeared like windows.  A hundred thousand snapshots into a life that was sometimes so unbelievable that even Rarity doubted they were true.

She watched herself as she borrowed a scale from a sea serpent to sever her own tail as a gift.

She watched as she sewed, frustrated and repressed, under the criticism of five well-meaning but ignorant friends.

Weaving birds nests.

Crafting hats at a festival.

Opening first one boutique, then a second, then a third.

Trudging through a desert on the run from a storm.

Apologizing to her sister next to a fabulous but poorly thought-out derby cart.

Waking up in a warm cave, comforting a hurting friend she had just met.

Standing up to an angry and bitter dragon.

Saying goodbye to a friend who barely remembered her.

Learning to teleport for the very first time.

Leading an army of unicorns up a dark mountain.

…

Singing a song with a dying friend.

“Every choice brought you here.  Each one a building block.  Twilight Sparkle was a genius at magic, yes.  But one of her true strengths was her ability to learn and grow from her past.  She took the pieces of what she had been through and used them as the foundation for becoming something wonderful.”

Rarity stopped looking at the moving images.  It wasn’t true.  It wasn’t her.  She wasn’t like Twilight Sparkle.  She was no Element of Magic, whatever this was all implying.  She was selfish.  Vain.  Sometimes a little greedy.  She was superficial and short-sighted.  She wasn’t a leader.  She began to gallop, running as hard as she could to outpace the sounds and sights around her.

“You suspected, didn’t you?”  It was as if the figure was keeping up with her, regardless of how fast she ran.  “Heartwing did.  So did Cadance.  They didn’t want to push you, but they tried to give you space to grow and discover on your own.”

“But Twilight’s successor should be somepony who can…”

“Who can bring together the Elements?  Who can bring them hope in the darkest of times?”

“But…”

“Who do they look to?  What was it Heartwing said?  You’re untainted by the biases of this time.  You’re pure.  You remember the world as it should be, and not separated from it by centuries of distance.”

“I’m not good enough,” Rarity wept.  “What if I let everypony down?”

You sound just like me.

It was a whisper on the wind, a rustling of Rarity’s fur and mane.  She snapped her head around, looking for the source. 

“Rarity.”

It was a voice she’d been dreaming about for months now.  Of all her friends, it was the voice she’d missed the most.  And here she was, panting for breath, out of sorts, missing her horn, dying and frozen and nearly out of hope.  Rarity sank to the shimmering floor and sobbed.

“Thank you for helping her here, Trixie,” Twilight Sparkle said softly.  “You’ve waited long enough.  Go find Starlight, so the two of you can be reborn together this time.”

“See you soon, Rarity,” Trixie said.  Rarity lifted her head enough to see the figure shimmer one last time, then burst into a thousand twinkling lights.  Then she looked up at Twilight.

She was taller than Rarity remembered, with a mane that flowed like Celestia’s.  But her eyes held the same kind wisdom.  Her mouth was the same small smile.

“Rarity.  You doubt yourself.  But there’s nothing wrong with that, right?  I understand self-doubt.”  The sardonic twist in Twilight’s voice was familiar too.  She reached out with a hoof, brushing it against Rarity’s mane.  It felt solid.

“I’m sorry,” Rarity whimpered.  “I’m not who you want me to be.  I failed.”  She lifted a hoof to her severed horn.  “I’m dying, Twilight.”

“Perhaps,” Twilight said, and there were tears in her eyes.  “You have persevered through so much, Rarity.  And I am so proud of you. I’m sure you have questions.  Please, ask me.”

There was so much to ask.  The first thing that came to Rarity’s mind was ‘why me’?  But it felt like whining.  And perhaps for once in her life, Rarity felt like she had no energy for whining.

“Why did you need somepony to guide me?  The other Elements were able to meet with their predecessors more easily.”

“They were able to connect with an echo of the pony left behind in the Elements they touched.  Rarity, you were never able to touch the old Element of Magic.  The spark you created is forming the new Element of Magic as we speak, but I have never touched this one.”

“So you’re not an echo?”

“No.  This is the Starlit Path, Rarity.  This is where alicorns go when they move on.  Or when they are killed.”  Twilight’s expression was wistful.  “Luna and Celestia came here of their own free will.  They can still reach out and touch the world.  Those of us who are killed, though, are here more weakly.  It takes much more for myself or Flurry to affect the living world.”

“How can I bear the Element of Magic, Twilight?  I’m going to die.”

“Sometimes our greatness is defined by a lifetime of experiences,” Twilight gestured at the images around them.  “And that certainly qualifies for you, Rarity.  You have lived a life of greatness.  But sometimes the torch burns bright for only a few moments.  Tell me, Rarity, if you knew you only had a few moments to live, would you give up and die?  Or would you spend it doing something incredible?”

“I…”  Rarity was struck silent.  She would do all she could, though she hardly thought singing a song counted as incredible.  “What is happening in the real world right now?”

“You are dying.  Your friends are freezing to death, if the monster that is Steadfast Word doesn’t do anything else first.”  The words were kindly, but the context was blunt enough that Rarity let out another sob.  “But you’re Rarity, darling,” Twilight smirked as she used Rarity’s own affectation.  “The end of the world was barely an inconvenience for you.  You’ve rebuilt your life from nothing.  You’ve made new friends.  You found love.  This is only the beginning for you.”

“What do I do next?”

“Are you willing to go back?  Even believing that your life is over, are you willing to do whatever you can to heal the world?”  Twilight asked.  Rarity nodded quietly.  “Of course.  Walk with me, Rarity.”

Twilight helped her to her hooves.  The touch of Twilight’s hoof on hers was warm and alive, and Rarity found some strength returning to her exhausted muscles.  They began to walk along the path, side by side.  Rarity couldn’t help but stare up at the taller Twilight.

“You grew, after I disappeared,” Rarity noted.  Twilight nodded.  “But no regalia in the alicorn afterlife?  Darling, I’m disappointed.”  It was a pale attempt at gallows humor, but Twilight smiled.

As they walked along the path, the windows into Rarity’s life began to become more and more rare.  They were reaching the end of Rarity’s memories.  She paused, watching an image of their desperate fight in the ruins of Old Canterlot.  Soon, the images were no more.

“Perhaps the metaphor is heavy-hooved,” Twilight said.  “But this is where you write the future, Rarity.  But I have some gifts for you, first.  The first one is actually from Celestia.  Look out into eternity, Rarity.  Tell me what you see.”

Rarity stood beside Twilight and stared into the star-lit blackness.  At first, there was nothing.  Her eyes began to grow blurry, and she glanced up at Twilight.  “I’m not quite sure…”

“Look, Rarity,” Twilight said, her eyes distant and unfocused.  So alongside the dead alicorn, her dear friend, Rarity looked.

It wasn’t much in the beginning.  A ghost of movement among the stars, a flicker of light and hope.  Then there were voices.  Shouts, screams of joy, battle-cries, whispered endearments and friendly encouragement.  When Rarity focused her attention on one of the stars, though, the other voices faded, while one set grew stronger.

“You can hear them,” Twilight whispered.

“What are they?”

“The lights are souls.  Pony souls.  Waiting for rebirth.  But time is fluid here.  And like all fluids, sometimes streams fork, split, and delta.  Celestia used to come here and look out at all the souls.  She said it gave her hope for the future.  Even futures that may never come to pass, she said, contain all that you need to know about the spirit of ponykind.”

“What does that mean?”

“She could see the potential of each of these souls.  Not the paths they will take, but the paths they could have taken.  Mirror realities, futures that might be, could have been.  Futures that will never be.  But in that potential, Celestia could find ponies who had a spark of greatness in them.”  Twilight sounded wistful.  “I don’t know what potential futures Celestia saw for me; what untrod paths she saw that made her think I would be worth guiding to ascension.  But this is where she saw them.”

“So these are things that will never be?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight said simply.  “Communing with pure potential was always Celestia’s gift.  I don’t hear them like she did.  Or like you do.”

“I…”

“What do they have to say to you, Rarity?”

She focused on one of the lights.

A group of unicorns desperately poured magic into a giant generator, lighting a powerful artificial sun built into a dome far above their heads.  Outside, eternal night froze the land in its deadly embrace.

Rarity jerked her head back.  She didn’t recognize the ponies, or the technology they were using.

“What did I see?”

“A future that could have been,” Twilight said patiently.  “You can focus on the light to learn more.”

But Rarity found another light, bending her will to focus on the sounds from inside.

Twilight Sparkle rose, dark and angry and majestic, her hooves poised to crush three trembling foals.  But even though they shook, the Cutie Mark Crusaders kept on their hooves, holding six glimmering gems between them.

Rarity shifted her focus to another.

Automated carts, belching smoke and noise, zoomed about a circular racetrack while a crowd of ponies in bleachers roared their approval.  A checkered flag waved, and the adoring stadium screamed their joy as the winning racer, Trixie the Great and Speedy, climbed out of her vehicle to take a bow.

And another.

An army of united ponies faced off against Sombra’s legion.

Another.

A unicorn mare in a blue jumpsuit with gold writing looked out over a desiccated wasteland.  But there was a light in her eyes, undimmed and unyielding.

Another.

Twilight Sparkle standing proud on the parapet of Canterlot Castle, her horn sparking with energy as she holds back the bombardment of the Storm King’s airships.

Another!

Starlight Glimmer, pursued by a pony of shadows, throws herself and the Crystal Heart from the tallest tower of the Crystal Palace. She smiles as she is enveloped by the rainbow light of the Elements and spilling their glow across reality.

Perhaps…

Scootaloo, grown up and horribly scarred and emaciated, held her hooves on a dangerous looking lever.  With a look of triumph, she pulled it, filling the air with a caustic looking liquid.

More.

Pinkie Pie, wearing some sort of full-body suit, floated in space, eyes screwed up in concentration as she twisted a wrench on a humongous mechanical contraption.

More…

A creature that looked part pony, part draconequus, a perfect blend of Fluttershy and Discord’s features, capered about the sky on bat-like wings, making gleeful glances back at her glowing cutie mark while Cozy Glow, of all ponies, looked on with horror.

More…

Five ponies, one of whom looked suspiciously like Sombra, and one Diamond Dog, levitate in the air while surrounding the shadowy royal tyrant himself.  Sombra howls in fury as they begin to glow with magic.

More!

Two ponies, eager and nervous, strapped via safety harnesses to chairs in the cockpit of some other sort of vast mechanical monstrosity, keeping their eyes on the flashing instruments around them as a disembodied voice counted down towards zero.

MORE!

Eyes wide with awe, an orange alicorn with a purple mane cavorts about the sky on brand new wings as the aurora shone in the night sky above her.

It was addictive.  Rarity could have sat there for minutes or weeks.  She saw glimpses of a thousand lives.  A hundred thousand pony faces burned into her memory.

Rarity didn’t think she’d ever forget.

“This is what Celestia did?” Rarity gasped.  “She would come here and watch?”

“When she could.  She still does,” Twilight said. “She’s giving us privacy, now.”

The idea filled Rarity with warmth.  Certainly she would love to see Celestia again, but even in the midst of the uncertainty and mystery around her, she loved every moment she could get with Twilight.  “But why?”

This time Twilight looked embarrassed.  “Because I asked her to.  Because when this happened to me, I was her student.  And...” She looked away, flushed.  “… I haven’t been there for you.  Not like I would have wanted to.  But I would like to think that in a way, you are my student.”

“But you were there,” Rarity said.  And even as the words left her throat, she realized just how true they were.  “Every step of the way.  I tried to follow your example when I could.  Perhaps I wasn’t always paying attention.  But you did what you could to help me.”  There were plenty of examples.  Moments she had originally believed were totally innocuous.  Moments when the wind brought the scent of old parchment and book glue, or when she’d thought she’d heard the rustling of wings behind her.  Moments where she felt bolstered, protected, and supported. 

“No, Rarity.  I failed you.  I failed the world.  If only I could have…”

“Don’t even start, darling.”  Rarity was a little shocked by the reversal.  “You gave me all the tools to thrive.  I’m the one who failed.”  Once again she tapped her severed horn.  “Remember?”

“I have one more gift for you, Rarity.” Twilight said.  “Something I hope will be another tool to help you survive.”  The princess paused, looking away.  Rarity could have sworn she saw a blush on Twilight’s face.  “I’m so very sorry, Rarity.  I have to confess something.  I thought this might happen; I suspected that whoever followed in my footsteps would find their way here, eventually.  So I put something… experimental in that spell I left behind in the book.  Something that bound itself to your thaumic system, to the pathways and rivers of magic in your very soul.  Something that, I hope, will make this next bit… more efficient.”

“What do you mean, darling?”  It sounded familiar; the mysterious readings the doctor in the Empire had found.

“Well, if I’m right, and everything works out just fine, you can ask the construct I left behind.  Simply inquire about ‘unethical medical experimentation on friends’.  The password is ‘mea culpa’.”

“What?”

“You’ll see,” Twilight flinched, with a chagrined smile.  “Now comes the hard part, Rarity.” She leaned down and touched the tip of her horn to the stump of Rarity’s own, and Rarity felt a painful jolt through every bone and nerve in her body.  “Are you ready?”

“Ready?”  She wasn’t ready at all.

“To be the legend you were always meant to be, Rarity.”

“I…”

She couldn’t finish the rest.  Something jerked her into the air, and there was a painful flash of light that blinded her.  Rarity clenched her eyes shut as her whole body burned, from her horn, all the way down her spine, and to her hooves.  She twisted and writhed, spinning about until the world was washed away in light.
> Chapter 72
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 72


Poem from ‘Songs from Across the Mirror’, a book of poetry attributed to Princess Sunset Shimmer.  Though she holds the copyright, the Princess has always maintained that she did not write several of the poems contained within. 

I used to think that stories were just that
Set in stone, concrete as a fact
It didn’t dawn on me
That I could change history

Now I know I’m writing my own song
Fight my way to the ending that I want
I’ll turn a tragedy
Into an epic fantasy

There was a time that fear would hold me down
Let it chain me to the ground
Look at me now, I’m soaring high
It’s never boring in the sky

When I know I’ve got friends on my side
Whatever trials, I’ll take them all in stride
Together we will shine so bright
A radiant brilliance in the night!

You can be a hero too
Take my hand I’m here for you

Come away with me
Be the legend you were meant to be

New Canterlot City, 1113 AF

“No, no, no!” Emberglow felt the bottom of the world drop out from underneath her as she cradled Rarity’s limp form.  “No!”

“Emberglow!” Heartwing’s shout was a weak, strained thing, but it still bore the stern command of a military officer.  Something struck her cheek weakly.  A hoof.  Heartwing had slapped her!  “Knight Emberglow!  Calm down!”

“But she…”

“She’s alive.  And we have to make sure she stays that way!”  Heartwing hissed.  “Don’t you see?  She’s our last hope, now.”

Emberglow stared at him.  The words were ephemeral, like echoes bouncing around in her head.

Heartwing was smiling.  It was a grim sort of look, with blood on his chin and agony in his eyes, but he was smiling.

His Element was glowing.

At her left, Lofty stood, holding a hoof out to steady her.

Lofty’s Element flashed as well.

Topaz, behind her.  Terminus, weeping softly as he gently nuzzled Heartwing’s other side.

Together they were wreathed in a prism of rainbow light.

Too late, Elements of Harmony.  Too late.  We have already established that your way only perpetuates a cycle of misery and destruction. 

Steadfast’s cold, alien voice was the last thing she wanted to hear right now.

“I don’t think,” Heartwing said, grunting with pain, “that you know what you’re talking about.  Emberglow, here.”

He lit his horn, straining, his expression screwed up with agony.  A trickle of golden magic swirled from his horn, to Emberglow’s gauntlet.

“Wh-what are you doing?  Stop it!” she gasped.  At his other side Terminus frowned.

“I’ve been impaled, Emberglow,” he said.  “You’ll need it more than me.”

“But…”

“Heads up!” Lofty shouted.

Emberglow raised her shield, leaping into the air just in time as a wicked looking claw of frost and snow, with talons the length of her hooves, came crashing down towards Heartwing.  She beat her wings furiously, pushing against the deadly ice.

The claw curled, forcing her down, a pointed tip diving towards Heartwing’s face.

One link in the chain broken, and we can have peace again.

Emberglow shuddered at the voice, somehow both cold and alien, and disturbingly familiar.

“You can’t have him!” Emberglow shouted, even as she fought the icy talon’s advance as hard as she could.  Inch by inch she lost space.

But then there was another; Terminus was at her side, beating his wings furiously as well, pushing at the shield, even though it put him directly under the claw, and in danger himself.

“We won’t let you,” he agreed, and the two of them shoved.

The Element of Loyalty will die regardless of what I do.

There was something intimate in the voice now, like it was speaking just to Emberglow.

He is not the weak link in the chain, Emberglow.  You are.

She was shocked enough that she lost a few inches of precious distance.  Terminus grunted and let out a wordless cry of panic.  Emberglow tried to regain momentum, but the claw pushed.

Pushed.

When he is gone, what will you do?  Loyalty abandons you.  Who is next?

“He… didn’t… abandon us,” Emberglow grunted.  “He’s… right there.”

Dying.  Same thing.

“Not…if I… can help it.”

You know that injury is fatal.

“I…don’t know anything…of the sort.”

Denial, from the Element of Honesty?  I see a flaw in your armor, Emberglow.

“Shut up!” Emberglow shouted, even as Terminus gave her a panicked look.  Her suspicions were right; only she was hearing Steadfast’s words. 

Peace is inevitable, Emberglow.  Embrace it.

The claw was an inch from Heartwing’s face.  He could not run.  Instead, he narrowed his eyes, lighting his horn one last time.

It flickered and sparked, then faded.  He didn’t have the energy.

The claw dipped.  Lofty had found a spear somewhere and battered at it from the ground.  Topaz soon joined him.

Let it happen. 

Small chips of ice broke from the claw, but their attacks didn’t change much.

Let it happen.

That was louder.  Topaz flinched.

LET IT HAPPEN.

“No.”

Emberglow’s heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught.  Impossible hope flooded her thoughts.

It was Rarity’s voice.

She dared a look.  Rarity’s eyes were open, though they glowed white, with no hint of iris or pupil. 

And her horn.

Her horn…

Her horn?

Emberglow nearly lost her grip.  Rarity’s horn glowed with the same white blaze as her eyes.  She began to float, mane flowing in the air, motes of magic crackling all around her.

Each point of light, each spark, dancing and flowing through the air until sliding into Rarity’s body.

Emberglow’s fur stood on end as she watched.  The pressure on the shield let up.

Further and further Rarity rose, beams of light bursting from her eyes, her horn, and her hooves.  But then it wasn’t just white.  It was a rainbow.

Dancing, flowing streams of light, each one the color of their Element, floated through the air between them all, flowing into the teardrop gem around Rarity’s neck.  It, too, glowed with violet light, morphing and shifting.

“Perhaps you could have been something more,” Rarity spoke, her voice echoing in the cold room. 

Only, it didn’t feel quite as cold as before.

“You had the potential to be a hero.  You had the opportunity to re-shape the world into something better.  But you were afraid.  Inflexible.  Corrupt.”

The violet light of the gem crept up Rarity’s glowing horn, flowing along the spiral grooves.  Finally it came to a stop, just above the tip.  The Tear of Harmony was gone; re-forming in its place was a new gem: a magenta diamond, just like Rarity’s cutie mark.  Around it formed a tiara, materializing in a flash of light.  It was a delicate thing; silver filigree resting gracefully among the curls of Rarity’s mane.

It suited her.

“Maybe it was your destiny to be the Element of Magic.  But we’ll never know.  Because of your fear and mistrust, because of your need to control and manipulate, you never learned the magic of friendship.  True friendship comes from Generosity…”

The motes of magic flowing from Lofty solidified into a single stream, flowing in an orb of light around Rarity.

“…Kindness…”

The same came from Terminus.

“Laughter.  Loyalty.”

Topaz had paused in her attacks on the claw.  Even Heartwing’s pained expression seemed to have lessened.

“And Honesty.”

Emberglow felt it pulling deep within her soul.  A light that was more than mere brightness, a piece of herself given but not taken, gifted but not lost. 

A part of her, becoming and joining with a larger whole.

“You could have formed the spark.  But you couldn’t let yourself be vulnerable, could you?  You could never bring yourself to treat others as equal.  And the one time you did finally open yourself up?  It was to the foul, unholy creatures that now share your body and mind.”

The orb of magic around Rarity became brighter and brighter, more solid with every passing second.  Emberglow could barely bear to watch, it was so blinding.  But she didn’t tear her gaze away.

“And now, because you failed, the duty passes to another.”

The orb shattered into a billion motes of light, torn asunder as Rarity flared her wings.

Emberglow blinked.

Rarity had wings.

They were perfect, glistening in the light shed by Rarity’s new horn.  Emberglow’s mouth was open in shock, even though she’d seen something like this once before, with Sunset Shimmer.

Rarity was…

She was…

“I knew it!” Heartwing crowed, and then coughed, flecks of blood spraying onto the ground.  “I knew it!”

They had no time to absorb the new changes.  The howling of the wind became a hurricane of fury.  The icy claw descended once again as Steadfast screamed with rage, loud enough to make them all flinch. 

“I said no, you reprobate.  Couldn’t you at least have the decency to let us have a conversation before you interrupt?  Your manners are atrocious.”

The claw shattered against a sudden shield, an orb of blue light.  Rarity’s eyes, no longer glowing, narrowed in offended poise at the misshapen figure floating above her.

“I suppose I shall have to take care of you myself, then,” she said, before turning a kind gaze on Emberglow.  “Emberglow, dearest.  Please do your best for Heartwing while I manage this lout.  I believe in you.”

One bolt of blue light from Rarity’s horn filled Emberglow’s gauntlet completely, then Lofty’s and Terminus’ as well.  A second blast sheared off the top of the icicle impaling Heartwing through the center. 

Emberglow felt hope again.  With time, and with a full gauntlet, perhaps she could save him.

But…

“I will draw his ire,” Rarity said firmly.  Emberglow couldn’t help but keep glancing up at her horn.  What had happened there?  There was still lavender in its grooves.  “However, we do need a bit more space.  Be ready with your spells, darling.  Steadfast, do be a dear and follow me if you can, hm?”

By now, Emberglow was somewhat used to being teleported.  It was much less disorienting than the last time.  In one moment they were in the room with the broken machine.

The next, they stood in the courtyard in front of the Star Shine building.

There were few ponies about; most had either fled or been killed in the riot that Emberglow had witnessed.  A few scattered startled faces glanced up at their arrival; from their ragged appearance, probably looters taking advantage of the bodies.

Rarity floated above them, watching the Star Shine building, which was already starting to tremble with some unseen force.

“Emberglow!” Terminus shouted, and Emberglow looked.  Heartwing had teleported as well, but the blade impaling him had not.

He would bleed out in seconds.

It was like her brain switched over.  A distant part of Emberglow welcomed the change; this was familiar to her.

“Lofty, Terminus, blood restoration spells if you know them.”

Step one, stop the bleeding.

Step two, deal with the internal damage.

Her first move wasn’t to cast a spell; she wrenched her dad’s old first aid kit out of her saddlebags and seized a compress.  Heartwing had already fallen to his side and was breathing weakly, his eyes closed.  She pressed the compress onto the wound in his belly.  His blood was spurting out onto the ground.

“Hold this!” she ordered Lofty.  Between the two of them, Terminus was casting and Lofty was looking worried.  “Hard as you can.”

“But…”

“Now, lieutenant!” she ordered loudly, and ingrained training took over.  Lofty pressed his hooves on the compress.

Emberglow was already in motion, a second compress at the smaller wound in Heartwing’s back.  She had to pull off some armor plates to get to it, tearing cloth with an adrenaline-fueled yank.

“Topaz, you get this one,” she ordered, once the compress was where she wanted.  She nodded nervously, pushing down on the bandage.  “Hard as you can.  Trust me.”

There was an explosion, and Emberglow dared to look up for a moment.  The Star Shine building was collapsing, imploding in on itself.  Tendrils of blue ice, sharp as broken glass, were shooting up through the structure as it fell apart.  Steadfast was coming after them.

Rarity moved in front.  “You’ve got this, Emberglow.  And I’ll get him.”  Her attention was fully on the breaking building, but Emberglow heard the warmth and affection in her tone.

It was energizing.

With the two stallions pressing against Heartwing, Emberglow had a moment to cast the next essential spell; a monitoring enchantment.

As before, though, the spell interacted weirdly with her blind eye. She could see the malfunction in Heartwing, the torn and broken tissues, the pierced organs.

The severed spinal cord.

It brought Emberglow up sharply.

No, she told herself.  No.  Save his life first.  Worry about that bit later.

Being able to trace each laceration and follow each bleed point meant she wouldn’t have to open him up for surgery.  Emberglow cast spell after spell, rebuilding and patching internal organs one hole at a time.  When her gauntlet went dry, Terminus was already there with his battery.  When that went dry, she grabbed Lofty’s.

She used half his battery trying to reassemble Heartwing’s spinal cord. 

“I… I can’t,” she said.  “He’ll live, but his spine—”

The building in front of them shattered with a thunderous explosion.  Smoke and snow flurries filled the air.  Through it all, Emberglow could see a figure rising from the craterous ruin.

Elements of Harmony.  You should not have resisted.

“Can somepony shut him up?” Topaz asked.

“Focus,” Emberglow scolded.  “Rarity will take care of him.”

She didn’t even need to look as Rarity flew off, horn already blazing with fury.  Emberglow focused on the last of her spells.

She’d failed.

Heartwing would live, perhaps.  But he’d be paralyzed for life.  He’d never use his hindhooves again.

The gift of magic from an alicorn herself, and she couldn’t do it.

The disappointment was crushing. 

But that was odd; a moment ago she’d been resigned to Heartwing’s death.  Now… she couldn’t even celebrate saving his life?

“Wrap this around his barrel,” she said, passing a bandage over to Terminus.  He eyed her.

Something was wrong.

It was too cold.

You know what’s wrong.

Emberglow glanced around.  Nopony else reacted.  Steadfast was speaking to her again, and her alone.

You had a brush with death.  You thought you would die.  So now you know.

Where was he going with this?  She tried to ignore him.  Maybe there was something she missed, some spell that could—

No spell will ever undo the damage.

He wasn’t just talking about Heartwing’s spine, Emberglow guessed.

Rarity lives.  But that means nothing.  Because nothing is permanent.  Nothing is sure.  And you know that now.

Emberglow tried to ignore it.  She started tying off the bandage.

Lofty stood up, stepping away.

“What do we do now?” he asked, unsure.  His free hoof, stained with Heartwing’s blood, fiddled at his Element of Harmony idly.

Emberglow glanced up, looking over the crater.  Rarity and Steadfast were high in the air, now, barely visible through the smoke and clouds.  Blasts of magic fought with cold blades of ice slashing through the sky.  A duel to the death, miles above them.

The sense of disconnection was agonizing.

“I don’t know,” Emberglow said, and now all of the Elements looked up at her with worry in their gaze.

They could all hear something off in her voice.

You had faith once.  Everything was certain.  Everything had an answer.  Believe, trust in the Saints, set your hooves on the correct path, and all your decisions, all your struggles, will be solved for you.

Surety and confidence.

But then you threw that away.  Because it was false surety.  False confidence.  You were bright enough to know it.

You saw the lie, and you rejected it.  But with it went your confirmation.  Your truth.

Element of Honesty…Emberglow.  You don’t have to live in uncertainty.  You don’t have to wonder about the future.  You don’t have to fear death and loss.  You don’t have to lose hope, ever again.

Emberglow was breathing hard, her hooves frozen.  The sounds of distant battle echoed all around her.  Her vision tunneled.

I saw your face, when you beheld what was left of Rarity’s horn.  I saw the hopelessness.  I feel it now, too.  You failed to fully save the Element of Loyalty.  You’ll fail again someday.  Ponies will die, because you will fail.  Over and over and over.  This is what uncertainty brings.  This is what hopelessness and chaos and imperfect knowledge will result in.  Again…

Emberglow looked down at Heartwing, breathing slowly.  His forehooves twitched.  His hind hooves didn’t.

…and again…

She looked at the bodies in the square around her.  Refugees, mostly.  Ponies just seeking peace and shelter.

…and again.

All of her friends, besides the unconscious Heartwing, were staring at her in terror.

“Emberglow?” Topaz asked, sounding terrified.  “Why is your breath not fogging in the cold?”


*   *   *   *   *


Despite everything that was happening, Rarity made a discovery.

The act of flying was one of uninhibited joy.

Even the cold winds over her wings sent a pleasurable tingle down her spine, and the sensation of movement was exhilarating.  She’d flown before, on conjured butterfly wings.  But while those fake wings had been things of grace and beauty, what she had now was something on a whole other level.

She felt like she understood Rainbow Dash just a little bit more.

It was a shame, then, that her first flight would be marred by such a brutal task.

Steadfast Word was a singularly ugly creature, and he was only getting worse with time.  The hoarfrost and jagged ice jutting violently from his body was growing; blood had frozen solid along the sharp spines.  His eyes, glowing pools of baleful light, bored into her with violent intent.

With every passing second, his form became less and less like a pony’s.

“You were so eloquent a while ago, Steadfast,” Rarity taunted, firing a blast of magic.  He dodged, his own hooves running in the air as if it were solid ground.  She pressed her attack, wings beating even as she fired again.  “Something amiss?  Things not exactly going to plan?”

He said nothing to her, merely waving a hoof.  Once again an icy claw conjured from snow and frost swiped through the clouds towards her.  Rarity met it with a beam of her own, and shattered ice rained into the fresh crater below.

“I hardly see the need for this tantrum, though,” she continued.  “I’m not the one who broke your machine, or your tedious, wretched little building down there.  I’m not even the one who broke your city.  That was all you.”

You think I am upset by all this?  By the destruction?

A barrage of swipes, whistling through the air with their sheer speed, battered at her.  She hastily summoned a shield.

Her new horn felt… different.  If her magic before had been like a faucet, this… this was like a floodgate.  She was used to channeling with finesse and dexterity, but this was something else.  A broadsword to her usual stiletto.  Or, for a metaphor more appropriate to Rarity, combat boots to her usual stiletto heels.

Your borrowed horn is clumsy, alicorn.

“Borrowed horn?” Rarity snarled.  Her shield became a wall of force, pushing him away.  Blood and frost spattered against its surface.  But she knew what he was talking about.

Every spell, every shield or blast of deadly energy came with a hint of otherness.  She’d already noticed how different it felt, how much more powerful and blunt it was.  But there was more than that. 

There was a presence to it.  The stronger her magic blazed, the more powerfully she felt it.  Heard it.  Smelled it.

A kind voice, full of wisdom and eagerness.

The smell of books, and ink, and dragon fire.

Rarity imagined she could even see it; Twilight Sparkle, floating beside her in the air, horn blazing and wings beating powerfully even as her eyes blazed with determination.

“It may be,” Rarity said.  “It was a gift, after all.  From the one you claim to represent with those blasphemous robes of yours.”

I reject Saint Twilight, Steadfast shot back as he changed tactics.  The misshapen monster swooped down, trailing with him hundreds of smaller ice shards.  They rained down on Rarity, battering her shield, but several more shot past her, raining sharp destruction down on the town below.  I am better than her in every way.  If she rejected me, it was her own fault.  Tell me, false Saint.  How many down below can your shields protect?

It was a bluff.  Rarity knew it was a bluff.  He was trying to get her to stretch herself thin.

The risk was probably minimal.  Most ponies were probably indoors.  But Rarity spared a glance.

Steadfast was moving to the west, his deadly shards raining down on the city below.

There was motion in the distance; a lot of motion.  Hundreds of ponies on the move.

Rarity bent her wings, swooping to intercept.  For a moment she idly wondered just how she was flying so well.  She remembered just how much trouble Twilight had at the beginning. 

But she didn’t have time to consider that.  Instead, she put up a shield, a wide flat plane that blocked most of the shards.  It took barely any of her power.

Rarity felt a flush of confidence.  It wasn’t even all bravado; Twilight was with her.

“Nothing you do today will amount to anything, Steadfast Word,” she said.  “I am an alicorn.”  She flushed with joy at the declaration.  “A bringer of Harmony.  I stand against everything you represent.”

You bring Harmony?  Arrogance.  You bring misfortunes and illusions to ponykind.  Temporary solutions that address the symptoms, not the disease.  Just look at your worthless Elements.

“I am proud of my friends, you monster.  I trust them completely.”

Friends?  They are nothing more than detritus.  Flotsam that washed ashore that you happened to pick up.  You say they represent the Elements?  I say they’re poor imitations at best.

Rarity scowled as she held onto her shield.  Steadfast continued to drift west, further away from the ruined Star Shine building and the other Elements, towards the commotion.  Rarity could see there was a battle taking place, though she couldn’t make out the two sides.

Shall we take them one at a time? The cold voice in her head sounded amused.  We shall start with the worst.  Heartwing.

“Heartwing is noble and kind,” Rarity shot back.

Your deceptions and lies do not fool me, Element of Magic.  I am Steadfast Word, but not.  Greater. I know everything he knew.  But also I am Windigo.  So I can see every tendril of hate, every wisp of jealousy, every hint of fear and spark of rage.  They swirl around all of your Elements. 

Heartwing is full of them.  Loyalty?  His loyalty is a joke.  He clings to the memory of a dead mare, even as he violates her legacy with his actions.  He sends his ponies to battle, to war, to death, over and over again in service of somepony who would hate him for it.  He has never changed; he has simply learned to hide it.  In truth, he revels in the chaos and destruction his actions cause.  Heartwing is a façade; Discord still lives behind those mismatched eyes.

“Your assessment is incomplete,” Rarity insisted.  She flew to keep up with Steadfast’s drifting, keeping the shield between him and the armies on the ground.  As she glided, she reached for more magic.  In the eye of her memory she saw a now-ancient battle; where Twilight faced off against a giant evil centaur, the cataclysmic Tirek himself.  Rarity tossed her mane back as magic gathered at the tip of her horn, and she swung it forward, as if the motion would lend more momentum to the blast.

At the last second her shield parted and her deadly attack fired through.

Steadfast was ready for her, lashing out with a dozen shards of ice, even as he swooped to dodge.  The blast clipped his side, sending pinkish icicles raining down over the town below.

Razors of ice rained around Rarity.  They were small but sharp; a dozen needles piercing her flesh.  She let out a grunt of pain.

Incomplete, perhaps.  But true.  You yourself see those weaknesses in him, do you not?  You supported Flurry at the sham trial in the North.

“Of course you would know about that; your assassins were there, weren’t they?” Rarity was getting angry.  Which was his goal, she guessed.  It was a head game.  She was determined to win.

Indeed.  But more than that, I can feel your doubt.  Not just in him.  But in all the others as well.  You call them friends, but you barely know them.  Not like the Elements before.  But Heartwing is not the only flaw in your armor, alicorn.

What about Terminus Flash?

“Terminus Flash is—”

A killer.  To think, a pony like that discovered his connection to the Element of Kindness with an execution? Unconscionable.  Blasphemous.  He is a killer, over and over.  A thousand times.  Every single supposed kind act is just a vain attempt at justification.  He wishes to pretend to be kind.  And he wishes others to perceive him that way.

“How do you know how—”

I can taste his doubt and bitterness. He hates a memory, and his soul steeps in that bitterness for the mare he pretends to replace.  And I have feasted on his jealousy, his rage.  As with all the others.

“Move on, then.  Say your piece, so we can get this over with.”

Your impatience is a mask to hide your insecurity.  But very well.  Topaz Glitter?  She’s weak and untested.  A blade that has not been tempered.  She’s on the verge of shattering.  A life of privilege and peace, only to be brought face to face with our reality.  She shall not survive all of this with her smile intact.  Even now I see the seeds of trauma taking root in her soul.  How can she smile for others when she is broken herself?

“You see in only one dimension, Steadfast,” Rarity said.  She had to turn this around somehow.  He was trying to get into her head. 

And it was working.

The worst part was, if what he was saying about sensing emotions was true, there was probably no point lying to him about it or pretending.  He knew his words were having an effect.

But I’m not wrong.  What about Lofty Tale?  Like Topaz, born to privilege.  Like her, inured from the truths of the world.  Generosity?  His generosity is a joke.  So he gave away some money.  He volunteered some labor.  But to truly give, to sacrifice all that one has?  He has never had to give everything.  He cannot understand what that is like.  Not in the way you or I do.  Because he has never been called to do so.  He will break when Topaz breaks.

Rarity dreaded what was coming next.  Emberglow.  She was the last.  She spared a glance, looking down at where they’d left the Elements behind.  Three ponies standing, facing Emberglow.  Heartwing was still on the ground.

Something was wrong.  She couldn’t tell what.

Without thinking, Rarity turned to move back in that direction.  But Steadfast unleashed another blast towards the city down below, forcing her to focus on her shield again. 

She could keep this up for a long time, but she was starting to feel a little strain.  But what frightened Rarity more was the tickle of fear in her breast.

Something was wrong with Emberglow.

Her heart skipped a beat.  She tried to deny it, but there was a sort of premonition that came with it, a sense of impending doom.  She spared another glance back at her friends.

Nothing had changed. 

But still, worry and foreboding filled Rarity’s mind.

“I won’t let you get in my head, creature,” she hissed defiantly.

I am already there.  You cannot deny an invitation that has already been offered, Rarity.  Besides, you know what I am going to say next.

Emberglow.

Honesty. 

You know her flaws better than anypony.

“I have no interest in discussing this with you,” Rarity snarled, firing again through the shield.  Steadfast swooped again to avoid it, and was clipped, spinning back through the skies.

But the voice continued undeterred.

I wonder why the Element chose her?  She’s not suited for the task.  Certainly she was bright as a foal, but never looked beyond the mark.  Never looked outside her foreordained role.  Never questioned, never challenged.  I wonder how she was even capable of defying her faith?

Did you know that many Knights have silent doubts and questions?  That’s how I was able to gather so many allies to my cause.  So many ponies with empty, broken faith, simply going through the motions because it’s all they know.  I offered them another path.  But I never got to have that conversation with Emberglow.  She was too brainwashed to question anything.  At least at first.

“I told you I have no interest in this conversation!” Rarity’s magic bent the shield, and she started to wrap it, a convex curve of magic moving in on Steadfast’s sides, entrapping him.  He battered back at the shield, giant claws of ice slamming into it over and over.

Rarity found a nearby cloud and landed, digging her hooves in so she could concentrate on her magic instead of flying.

But Steadfast’s voice kept going.

When she did begin to question, finally, what was the first thing she did?  She came to me.  She wanted me to make it all better.  To give her some answer that would make her doubts disappear.  To make the hurt go away, so she could just go back to her safe, ignorant life.  Does that sound like honesty to you?  An honest pony would accept a hard truth.  Emberglow wanted the comforting lie.

“That’s not true!” Rarity screamed, squeezing with her shield.  Cracks appeared as Steadfast’s ice battered away.  Rarity poured more of her magic into her spell.

Underneath them both, ponies went to war.

And Steadfast kept talking.

Even after my mistake, after I mistreated her, she still was practically paralyzed by guilt, wasn’t she?  I can feel it in her; it’s the crack in her armor.  I feel every flaw in all of them, Rarity.  I can take each of them apart.  Not just them, but hundreds of others down below.

But Emberglow… she’ll be easy to break. Because you know why she is weak.

Her guilt paralyzes her.

She’s too cowardly to act; death stays her hoof.

Her oath of peace is nothing more than cowardice.

She craves easy stability over true honesty.

With enough time, I can make her crack, Rarity. 

Your Harmony is meaningless.  An illusion.  As I’ve said before, it cures the symptom but never addresses the disease.  Emberglow knows this.  And she’s a healer. 

She knows I offer the real cure.  And the fear I can taste coming from your mind, Rarity?  You know it too.

Rarity howled, pushing with her magic as hard as she could.  There was no thought, no strategy, only fury and panic as she tried to crush him.  The shield shattered, and Steadfast was on her in a flash, claws demolishing the clouds around her as they cut through the frigid air.

Rarity’s wings beat frantically as she retreated.  Again and again his claws crashed down on her, shattering off each of Rarity’s hastily conjured shields.  She could feel the ice each time; a hundred tiny papercuts, assaulting her limbs, her face, her ears, even her brand new wings, a chill accompanying each strike.

She could feel the warm blood on her fur, quickly cooling in the wintery atmosphere.  The pain of each tiny gash wasn’t much, but she could feel the collective weight of her injuries.  Death by a thousand cuts, indeed.

Rarity had to finish this soon.  Finish off this abomination, so she could be at Emberglow’s side again.

“Twilight, if you’re listening,” she whispered, horn blazing and crackling with energy.  “I need some assistance here.  Any ideas would be marvelous, darling.”

But Twilight was silent.  And Steadfast wasn’t giving her time to wait.  A claw slashed at her muzzle and Rarity blocked with a shield, only to be knocked back by a summoned blast of wind, howling with the voices of the damned.

Rarity spun and tumbled through the air, landing roughly on a cloud that looked far softer than it actually was.  The cloud crackled with thunderous energy.

Perhaps it wasn’t Twilight Sparkle’s help she should be asking for, Rarity mused.  Perhaps she should be channeling Rainbow Dash.

“Very well then,” she muttered, slipping behind the cloud even as Steadfast pursued.  “Rash impulsiveness it is.  Do keep an eye out for me, Miss Dash.  This was your purview, after all.”

It seemed odd for her to be speaking to her dead friends.  It was almost like a prayer.  But that thought was too upsetting to consider for long.  So instead, she did what Dash would have done, and stopped thinking.

Pegasi magic worked on instinct, right?  And she had that magic in her now.

Rarity kicked the cloud.

There was a flash of lightning, and Rarity felt her hair and her mane stand on end.  Carefully filing that information away for later consideration (if certain kinds of magic would have a deleterious effect on her mane, she may have to reconsider this tactic), she darted to another cloud.

Now wasn’t the time to worry about collateral damage to her coiffure, after all. 

Steadfast chased after her right as her hooves slammed into the second cloud.  More lightning flashed around them, and Rarity saw Steadfast grunt, tossed back.

“Don’t like that, do you?”  Rarity had a flash of inspiration. 

She charged her horn, as if to fire another blast.  Steadfast reacted, bracing himself, a pair of icy claws curling to shield himself.  But she didn’t fire the building magic; instead letting it flow out into the clouds around her.

It was a risk; magic without direction tended to have a mind of its own.  But Rarity was ready for desperate risk right now.  And having an entire cloudbank’s worth of magically-charged lightning she could unleash on this tenacious foe sounded like it was worth a try.

It certainly made Steadfast pull up short.  When the expected blast of magic never came, he floated forward, claws swiping through the air.  But as the clouds started to crackle and spark with the overflowing energy, he reared back.

W-what are you doing?

There was a wicked sort of thrill in Rarity’s heart to hear the fear in his voice.  She kicked one of the clouds, already sparking and vibrating.

The cloud exploded, lightning and magic burning through her as her vision blanked out in a wave of white.  The sound of the explosion rang in Rarity’s ears, and for a few seconds she could only hear ringing, and only see blinding light.

Perhaps this wasn’t the most ideal time for magical experimentation. 

When Rarity’s vision cleared, the clouds around her were still vibrating and crackling.  Steadfast was several yards away, drifting in the sky, his head thrown back and limbs akimbo.  He was slowly sinking downwards, and bits of ice sloughed off his broken form.

Rarity prepared herself to hit another cloud.  If that had worked, then perhaps…

Hey, crazy mare!

It was a very different sort of voice that thrust itself into Rarity’s mind.  Certainly not the cold, sibilant whispers of the Windigoes, or even Steadfast’s more insistent drone.  It was somehow warmer, and angrier.

Wanna cool it on the lightning?  I was barely able to shield my ponies in time!

Rarity’s mind, still reeling from her own explosive magic, took a moment to catch up.  The sound of wings from below her stole her attention.

It was another alicorn, golden orange in rather fetchingly brilliant armor.  Resplendent even amidst the cloudy gloom that surrounded them.  And her expression blazed with consternation.

Sunset Shimmer.  Probably using a telepathy spell to get in touch.

“Princess Rarity, I assume? Need some help?” she shouted as she approached.  Sunset’s expression shifted to one of concern.  “Maybe before you blast your allies with more lightning?  Your crazy attack isn’t exactly helping.”

“Apologies, darling.  I’m not exactly practiced at most of this.”  Rarity leveled her horn at Steadfast.  “But some help would be wildly appreciated.”

Steadfast had collected himself, and was no longer sinking.  Instead, he was eyeing them warily, his cold, dead eyes fixed on the two alicorns. 

“You may have made the battlefield a lot more dangerous,” Sunset said, eyeing the clouds.  “And we need to shut him down quickly.  He’s creating all sorts of chaos down below.”

“What do you mean?” Rarity asked.  Sunset started to drift to the left, her wings beating slowly, putting a touch of distance between them.  Rarity understood; there were two of them, and they could flank the creature.

“Getting into ponies’ heads,” Sunset said, with a grim sort of experience in her voice.  “Trying to make them doubt.  If a pony falls too far, they go berserk.”

A thrum of fear beat in Rarity’s chest.

Emberglow.

“It’s making a mess of the battle down below.  We’re trying to evacuate the Radiants, and everything is falling apart because of this bastard.  Glad to see that new tiara of yours, Princess Rarity.  But why aren’t you with the other Elements?  Feels like rainbow laser time to me.”

Of course.

She’d gone off on her own, like some sort of dashing hero, to try and save the day.

One set of wings and suddenly she thought she could be like Twilight Sparkle and handle everything by herself.

It is too late, Sunset Shimmer.  It is too late, Rarity.  All I need is one broken link.

“I… I need to go,” Rarity gasped out.  “Could you, perhaps, keep his attention?”

“Sounds like fun,” Sunset Shimmer said with a smirk.  But Rarity could see the nervous fear behind Sunset’s confident expression.

“I’ll be right back.”

You’ll be too late.

I already have her.

There is no hope left.


*   *   *   *   *


A thousand voices screamed in Emberglow’s mind.  A thousand icy needles dug into her brain.  She was screaming, a roar of agony ripping from her throat.

She could see nothing, hear nothing other than her own screams and the desperate wail of winter.

right

they’re right

he’s right

It was her own voice, joining the legion.

Her own voice, screeching in the cold.

no hope

no certainty

no faith

She flailed about inside her mind, desperately grasping for something, anything, to hang on to.  Some sort of lifeline.  Some sort of path out of the madness that grew like hoarfrost inside her thoughts.

There was only her own voice, screaming back at her.

nothing permanent

nothing certain

nothing to hope for

But wasn’t there?  Wasn’t there something?  In some distant corner of her mind, she heard voices singing.  A song about hope.  And coming together.

sung by a pony you couldn’t save

sung by a mare who’s abandoned you

sung by dead ponies, by dying ponies

There was an image, too.  White and violet.  Wings and a horn.  An image that inspired love.

she will die

your friends will die

you only have to fail once and the world ends

More screaming.  More voices.  Shouting.  Others.  Her friends?  Dead ponies.  Perhaps dying ponies.

Nothing made sense any longer.

You crave certainty, Emberglow.  A safe haven.  This time it was Steadfast again, rather than her own screaming torment.  Remember when you once relied on my wisdom?  You can have that, again.  Free yourself from the pain of uncertainty.  Free yourself from the torment of having to choose.

Give in.  Your fight is only temporary.  Even if you win today, you’ll have to fight.  Again.  And again.  And again.  There will never be peace.  There will never be rest.  Until the very day you give in and die.  Why prolong what will be inevitable?

“Emberglow!”

“Saints, Emberglow, please listen!”

“Lofty, watch her, she’s about to—”

Dimly she was aware that she was moving.  That something was moving her limbs.  It felt like her wings and hooves were floating on a cold wind.

Only, the cold didn’t feel so cold any longer.

Emberglow knew the stages of hypothermia.  She’d read about the euphoria that came towards the end, minutes before a pony froze to death.  The sense of warmth, of not feeling the cold any longer.

Perhaps that was what she was feeling right now.

It was sort of floaty.

“You can’t give in, please!”

She barely remembered who was begging her to…

…what was it they wanted her to do?

At least she felt warm, now.

At least there was that.

That certainty.

That…

“Darling.”

A blaze of flame cut through the false warmth, and Emberglow shivered.  Cold pierced her limbs, her muzzle, her wings.

Bitter cold, stabbing at her with a vicious, living ache.

come back

you can have certainty

you can have peace

“Emberglow, darling.  I made a mistake.  I hope you will accept my apologies.”

The voice was like a bonfire that ripped through her body.  She screamed again at the blazing agony.

There were wings.  Larger than her own, and they encircled her.  Something pressed against Emberglow’s chest.

“Please, darling.  What do I need to say, for you to come back to me?”

false hope

temporary life

uncertain future

“You’re right,” somepony croaked.

It was Emberglow.  Emberglow’s voice, dragged out of her.

“I’m right, darling?”

But Emberglow wasn’t talking to Rarity.  She wasn’t talking to her love, even as she leaned into the embrace, the fiery, agonizing, life-giving heat.

It was uncertain, this fire.  It hurt.  It might die out some day.  Emberglow certainly would.

The fire kept on burning.  Yes, it was uncertain.  But it was life.  And as long as it stayed alight…

Trembling and shivering, almost lost in her own mind, Emberglow embraced that uncertainty.

Something was glowing.  Her Element.  Rarity’s Element.  The others, as well.  They were all crowded around her, Rarity closest of all, with her wings and hooves clenched tight.  Lofty and Topaz, holding each other’s hooves, reached out their free hooves to touch her side. Terminus was helping Heartwing to rise on his haunches, and each of them were reaching for her as well.

The elements shined and pulsed.

“Back with us, dear?” Rarity asked, pulling back so Emberglow could see her tear-stained face.  “What happened?”

“I’m so frightened,” Emberglow admitted.  “Over and over.  No matter what we did, we always lost.  We were always beaten back.”

It was true, in a way.  Every victory was tainted with defeat.  Every step forward was another setback, another pony lost.

Gadget.

Escher.

Bubblegum.

Flurry Heart.

So many more.

“I lost heart for a bit,” she admitted, the shame of it like a cold icicle in her stomach.  “He got to me.”  Rarity looked at her, eyes wide with concern.  “I think...I think part of me wanted what he offered.  Still wants it.”  She shivered.  “I’m afraid, Rarity.  I’m afraid of everything.  I’m afraid of the future.  I’m afraid of this.”  Her hoof brushed against her Element, pulsing with each admission.  “We’re practically homeless, we jump from one disaster to the next, and ponies keep d-dying.  I’m scared and I’m tired.”

She pursed her lips, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“But…”

Emberglow paused and swallowed.  Her throat hurt.

“…but I’m going to have to be okay with being afraid.  Because the alternative is I lose all of you.  Especially you.”

She buried her face in Rarity’s fur.

“I shouldn’t have left you here alone,” Rarity admitted.  “I forgot something important, something I once heard from Princess Celestia.”

“What’s that?” Emberglow asked.

“That Twilight Sparkle, even with all her power and brilliance and accomplishments, owed everything she had not just to herself, but to her friendships.” Rarity’s voice was strong and gentle.  Emberglow wanted to melt into the warmth.  “What is the Princess of Friendship, she said, without her friends?  I may not be Princess of Friendship, but I still should have remembered.”

“You did eventually,” Heartwing said.  “Just in time, too, I’d say.”

Emberglow sniffed, and looked up.  In the skies, she could barely make out two figures darting through the clouds.  One frozen and blood-soaked, the other golden and radiant.

“It’s time to bring this to a close,” Rarity said.  “Together.”

She stepped back from Emberglow, spreading her wings.

Emberglow did the same.

“Do we need to be close?” Topaz wondered, and Rarity shook her head.

“No.” She sounded confused.  “I’m not sure how I know, but… as long as we’re united in heart.”

“Anypony else need to get an existential crisis out of the way?” Heartwing noted dryly, and Terminus huffed from his nostrils, rolling his eyes.  “No?  Great.  I don’t know if I have the patience for another.”

“Be nice,” Terminus muttered.

But Emberglow laughed.  It was a watery sound, but it brought a smile to their faces.  “It’s fine.  S-sorry, all of you.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Heartwing noted, and the others nodded along.

“I’m not sure what comes next,” Rarity said.  “But…stay close.  Hold each other.  And if you hear his voice again, speak up so we can support you.”

Emberglow jerked, startled. 

Her mind was empty of Steadfast’s voice.  Instead, she realized, there was nothing but warmth.

She shivered again.

“I’m going to draw his attention back to us,” Rarity said.  “Come with me this time.”

“Okay,” Emberglow said.

The fear was still there.  The uncertainty, the guilt, the bits and pieces of her that would always be broken.

But that was okay.

The two mares flew into the skies, and Rarity’s horn blazed with blue light.  Emberglow stayed close by her side. 

They didn’t go far, just a few dozen feet above the others, when Rarity’s sharp blast of magic cut through the clouds, slicing between them and causing Steadfast and Sunset to pause their fight.

Emberglow could see wounds on the distant alicorn, blood marring her golden armor.

“Pit yourself against me, monster,” Rarity shouted.  “Your ideals against mine.  And we shall see who is stronger.”

Steadfast’s howl cut through the skies, an angry cacophony of a thousand voices muttering in cold fury.  With one last powerful slash he cut the reeling Sunset out of the sky, and she landed hard on a cloud.  With no further warning he dove, torpedoing towards them.  A thousand icy needles grew from his flesh.

“What do we…” Emberglow began.

Rarity’s hoof found hers.

They held on.

“We answer hate with love.  We answer death with hope.  And we melt the ice with fire.”

They had seconds before Steadfast reached them.

Rarity leaned over and kissed Emberglow.

When they separated, Rarity’s eyes were glowing white.

“We choose to live, even if we will die.”  Rarity’s voice boomed around them, deafening and enervating all at the same time.  “We choose to love, even if it will hurt.  We chose hope even when it’s hopeless.  We choose.  WE CHOOSE!”

A beam of light burst from each of the Elements.  Each pony rose up into the air, eyes glowing.  Each pony held their partner’s hoof.

The glowing lights connected, a chain of love.

Unbroken.

“We reject you, Steadfast Word, and everything you represent.  We reject you, Windigoes, and the winter you bring.  Because love is greater than hatred.”

There was a flash of magic too bright for Emberglow to see.  But she dared not close her eyes.  A nova of light flooded the skies; arrows blazing through the sky, piercing the misshapen creature.

A thousand voices screamed in agony.  They begged and threatened, wept and raged.  They tore at Emberglow’s mind.

She held tighter to Rarity’s hoof.

There were no words, just senseless emotion.  Emberglow felt every bit of it.

Rage.

Jealousy.

Fear.

Guilt.

But most of all?

Regret.

Emberglow could feel it.  Almost lost in the dying screams of a thousand Windigoes, the one piece of Steadfast that she knew, in her heart of hearts, was his and his alone.

Regret.

And then the light was gone.  The clouds were gone.  And a pure, golden sun shone in a bright blue sky.

Something tumbled out of the air.  A limp, broken body of a limp, broken pony.  Reacting without words, Emberglow and Rarity both flew up.

Between the two of them they caught Steadfast as he fell.  His eyes, blank and staring, held none of the cold, dead light of the Windigoes.

But he lived.  And breathed.  And his breath fogged in the still-cold air.
> Chapter 73
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chapter 73


Summary of the Old Canterlot Accords, temporary peace agreement, dated 1113 AF.

On this day of new spring, we ponies gathered here resolve the following, and bind these Accords upon ourselves with our Oath and our Honor:

First, that the Knights Discordant and the Knights Resplendent will withdraw with peace and order from the Diarchy.  None shall be molested or harmed.

Second, that the Knights Radiant and Knights Angelic shall claim residence in the city of Old Canterlot upon the Canterhorn Mountain.

Third, that a place of safety and peace shall be established upon that very same mountain.  Old Canterlot shall remain hallowed and sacrosanct to all Knight Orders.

Fourth, that each Knight Order shall send a representative, one year from now, to create a new and more lasting Accord between our peoples.

Fifth, that the assembled Orders will no longer use unicorn horn as an ingredient in Knight potions, on the condition that the Angelic and Radiant freely share with all their methodology for creating the potion without that ingredient.

Sixth, and finally, none who are party to this Accord will seek retribution or retaliation for the events of the Battle of New Canterlot.  Let the Windigoes and their winter stay far from our hearths and homes.

Signed,

Sir North Wind, on behalf of the Knights Adamant and the Knights of the Diarchy

Sir Heartwing, on behalf of the Knights Discordant

Sir Oak Chips, on behalf of the Knights Resplendent

Lady Magenta Mirror, on behalf of the Knights Angelic

Lady Eucomis Comosa, on behalf of the Knights of the Mother (conditional upon approval by Lady Annika Garamundi)

Lady Fairy Light, on behalf of the Knights Radiant

Skies Over Northern Equestria, 1113 AF

There was relief, but not really joy.

Perhaps even a sense of resolution that Rarity didn’t fully trust.

She wanted to, of course.  She wanted to believe that it was all over.  That this last leg of the journey, a long and frightening and wonderful journey that had led her across continents and oceans, that had brought her love and agony, that had brought her destiny and duty, would actually be the last.

She tried to believe it. 

But mostly she just wanted to rest.

Still, sleep was elusive.  There was a sort of ache in her limbs, and in her horn.  Her new horn, still lingering with the sense of dull emptiness that she’d felt after it had been removed.

When she’d been dying.

Now, the emptiness was still there, but instead of growing, it was shrinking.

Rarity wondered if it would ever fully be gone.

The private room on the airship was well-furnished, if small.  Soft yellow lamplight from a glass-covered wall sconce filled the wood-paneled room.  A bed large enough to fit two sat on one side with plush blankets and sheets.  There was even a divan, which she was currently reclining in.  Emberglow shared it with her, cuddled up with her head on Rarity’s lap.

Emberglow didn’t seem to have trouble sleeping.  Her eyes were closed and her breathing slow and even.  Though every so often she twitched, flinching in her sleep.

Rarity’s hoof gently stroked her mane and her wings, coaxing her back into peaceful sleep whenever some nebulous dark thing in her dreams would cause her to wince like that.

She was certain that, when she finally managed to sleep, she would be the same.

Idly, she lit her horn, levitating the pitcher of water the captain had left for them.  It wasn’t the first time, and Rarity had been noticing something strange.

Sometimes her magic was a usual, familiar blue glow.

Other times, it was mulberry.  The familiar hue of Twilight Sparkle’s magic.

This time it was blue. 

It was a mystery, and perhaps Rarity would  take more time to be worried about it later.  But, for now, she didn’t have the energy to worry about much at all.  She felt like a worn band of elastic, stretched so thin she worried she’d never bounce back.

Oh, she knew she would, with time and rest.  But she just felt so overwhelmed that she was numb.

She’d seen similar looks on the other Elements as they’d retreated to their own private cabins.  She was sure they’d have a chance to gather, to renew their bonds and enjoy one another’s presence again.  But for now, they simply needed to rest and heal.  Especially Heartwing—the Radiant medics had confirmed that he would need a good deal of recovery and surgery to be able to regain as much movement as possible from his forelegs.

His hindlegs were probably paralyzed for good.

Rarity sighed.  Did every victory in this age have to come with such melancholy?  Perhaps.  But at least the violence was over, for now.

There was a soft knock on her door.

“Come in,” Rarity called, as softly as she dared.  She poured herself a cup of water from the pitcher she’d levitated, and returned it to the table.

The door opened just in time for the figure entering to see the pitcher resting on the table.  Sunset Shimmer stood there, eyes wide in surprise.  She’d changed out of her armor, and was now wearing a soft cotton dressing gown, much like the garments Rarity and Emberglow wore.

“Woah.  That’s not right, is it?” Sunset pointed.  Rarity looked at the aura of her magic.

It had changed to mulberry again.

“It’s been happening ever since the battle,” Rarity said.  “I don’t know what it means.  But it probably has something to do with this.”

She pointed at her horn.  She’d seen it in the mirror, an antique, gold-leaf gilded thing that hung from the wall of the captain’s cabin.  The horn was her usual white, but the grooves were purple, the same color as Twilight’s. 

“I lost mine.  I think Twilight gave me hers, somehow.”

It didn’t make much sense.  Twilight Sparkle’s physical body had been vaporized, centuries ago.  But somehow she’d managed to give Rarity her horn?

Whatever.  Rarity didn’t have the energy to sort it out now.  Sunset met her eyes, and Rarity saw the same sort of exhaustion reflected there.

“Sure.  Probably should look into that later,” Sunset said, rubbing one hoof against another.  The mannerism reminded Rarity of Twilight Sparkle.  “I, um, thought that maybe I should come introduce myself.  Officially.  I’m Sunset Shimmer.”

There hadn’t been a lot of time for formalities.  Everything since the battle’s conclusion had been a rush.

Steadfast’s defeat had led to a pause in the fighting.  The Resplendent, pushing to evacuate the Radiant and Angelic, had been locked in battle with the Adamant leading the other Diarchy orders.  But when the Elements ignited and cleansed the Windigoes from Steadfast Word, everypony had stopped.

For one too-brief moment, nopony had any desire for violence.  It was like the hostility had been sucked out of every single Knight and soldier.

Rarity felt a flush of gratitude for the Radiant.  They’d quickly seized on the sensation, calling for an immediate cease-fire.

And then, in the shell of a destroyed Diarchy cathedral, they’d hammered out a truce.

It was a flimsy, ephemeral thing.  Words on a paper that the representatives of the present Orders had signed.  The Diarchy Knight representing the enemy, a young general wearing bandages and blood spattered on his blue armor, had impressed even Rarity with his calm, controlled air.

When Heartwing had questioned whether or not the document would be binding if the rest of the Diarchy orders were not present, Sir North Wind had simply nodded.

“I’m in charge now,” he had said, firmly and confidently.  “It was one of the last things Sir Steadfast did.”

With a shake of her head, Rarity returned to the present.

“Indeed, darling,” Rarity said, holding out her free hoof, while the other remained wrapped tightly around the sleeping mare she was cuddled up to.  “As you know, I am Rarity.  I would rise, but—”

“No, no,” Sunset said, shaking her head as she stepped over to shake Rarity’s hoof.  “You’re fine.  Comfy and resting, right?”

“As you should be,” Rarity said, scolding gently.  Sunset closed the door to the captain’s cabin and sighed, slumping down to sit on the bed.

“I tried.  Really.  But I can’t sleep.  Can’t even lie down.  Too much adrenaline.  Too many thoughts in my head.  Too many worries.  Just too much, really.”

Rarity nodded at Sunset’s inarticulate vagueness.  She certainly empathized with the sensation.  “I totally understand, darling.”

A sort of half-smile graced Sunset’s muzzle.  “You sound so much like her.”

“I remember Twilight telling stories about you,” Rarity said.  “Something about there being another me in another world.  It’s odd to think about; you’ve met me already, and yet… not.”

But Sunset was already shaking her head.  “No.  You’re not the same.  I mean, you have the same face and name.  And very similar origins.  But for some reason I don’t see my Rarity sitting where you are now.  I don’t see her as an alicorn.  A princess.  A leader.”  Sunset smiled.  “Different circumstances, different paths.”

“Do please tell me that she’s at least the princess of her own boutique,” Rarity said, trying for some levity.

It worked.  Sunset gave a soft laugh.  “Not yet, no.  She’s working for somebody else. But she’s moving towards it.  It won’t be long.”  She paused, and winced.  “Or, she was working towards it.  I don’t know what’s happening there, now.  Or even if time is moving the same way.  Probably not.  It’s…”

Sunset trailed off with the same sort of vague, inarticulate sense of a mare who was overwhelmed. 

Rarity’s brand-new wings twitched, as if in sympathy. 

“So anyways,” Sunset continued.  “I’ve been checking on everypony.  Flying to the other ships, to make sure our people are settled in.”

“And?”

“Nothing bad’s happening.  I dropped in on the hospital ship, our wounded are being treated well.  And Smolder is still out there with her brood, making sure there’s no last-second betrayal.  So far everypony’s been good on their word.”  She shifted a little on the bed, uncomfortably.  “I keep waiting for the next disaster, you know?  But maybe everything really is done.”

“Nothing’s really over,” Rarity said, a touch sadly.  “Not like the storybooks.  In the fairy tales they never mention the heroines waking up the next morning to tackle the next obstacle, the next challenge, the next disaster, as you say.”

“So what is next?” Sunset asked.

Rarity was silent as she thought.  She kept stroking Emberglow’s mane, more for her comfort than for the sleeping mare.

“You and I need to have a long talk with Cadance,” Rarity said.  “And figure out where we stand in this new world.”

“I think Cadance is going to ask us to shoulder most of the responsibility of rule,” Sunset said.  There was a mix of both fear and confidence in her voice.  “Like Celestia and Luna.  The sun and the moon.”

“The moon?” Rarity sat up a little, eyes widening.

“Just a guess,” Sunset said.  She nodded towards the tiara that sat on the bedside table, its silver filigree glinting in the lamplight.  “But it seems to fit your aesthetic.  Silver for the moon.”

“I thought it was just because silver went better with my coloring than gold,” Rarity said.  In truth, the idea was overwhelming.  The moon?  Hers?  Her duty and privilege?

The idea felt heavy, like the wings on her back.

“I think it’s meant to be shared. Leadership, I mean. I remember how tired Celestia looked sometimes,” Sunset said.  “I wish I’d paid better attention to her back then, but I was a complete bitch.”  Sunset blushed.  “Sorry.”

“Neither of us is the mare we were any longer,” Rarity noted.  Her wings twitched again.

“My past is not today, right?” Sunset said with a smile.  It was a melancholy expression that didn’t quite touch the distance behind her eyes.  “Oh well.  Honestly?  I’m really grateful to have somepony else to go through it with.  Knowing you’re there is really comforting.”

Rarity hadn’t thought about that.  But she met Sunset’s eyes and nodded.  She was right.

“Not just me, darling.  You can feel the others too, can’t you?”

It was there, in the back of her mind.  A glowing path of twinkling lights.  Rarity knew that with a thought, she could close her eyes and slip.  To commune with the Path.  To see those lights again, to explore what-has-been, what-might-be, and what-could-be.

Later.  There would be time for that later.

“Yeah.  Twilight’s there,” Sunset said.  “Celestia too.”  Her smile became warmer.  “We’re not alone.  And you have your Elements, too.”

Her Elements.  That was certainly another intimidating thought.  Rarity nodded slowly.  “Did you meet them as well?”

“I stopped by to check on them, yes.  Heartwing’s in a healing coma, so we didn’t talk.  There’s a half-dozen Radiants working on him over on the hospital ship.  Terminus is right by his side.  I did stop in and chat with the other two.  Topaz Glitter and Lofty Tale.”

They were just a few cabins down.

“They’re resting?” Rarity asked.

Sunset smirked.  “Yeah, I found them in just about the same position as I found you here, cuddled up with some hot cocoa.  They’re fine.”

There was something else in her voice, a tinge of sadness.

Rarity didn’t need to ask about it.  She could guess well enough; everypony who’d been through this would be changed by the events.  Damaged, perhaps.  Rarity knew she would be.  And Emberglow…

Emberglow twitched and flinched again, and Rarity made some soft, cooing noises as she continued to gently caress the sleeping mare.

“Wounded, but not broken,” Sunset said softly.

Rarity nodded.  “Yes.  But it was a very close thing.  Especially for dear Emberglow.”

“I’ve asked around, and heard bits and pieces of your story,” Sunset said, voice thick with empathy.  “You’ve had it rough.”

“You too,” Rarity whispered.  She didn’t know much, but she could guess. Time travel.  Being replaced by a changeling, who died in her place.  Whatever nightmarish disasters preceded that.

The two alicorns fell into silence, punctuated only by the creaking of wood and the distant rush of wind outside.

“We’ll get through it,” Sunset said suddenly, determination blazing across her expression.  “We’re princesses, right?”  She laughed.  “The sort of thing both of us always wanted, if you’re anything like your counterpart.”

“I never would have imagined the path we took to get here, though,” Rarity said. 

Sunset’s laugh was bitter.  “Yeah.  Is it awful that I’m having a hard time being happy about it?  I mean, we won, right?  Objectively, the world is a better place because of what happened.”  She nodded to Rarity.  “Because of what you and your friends did, mostly.”

“It’s not perfect, no,” Rarity said.  She noted the haunted look in Sunset’s eyes. “We lost too much to be celebratory, I think.”  Now Sunset looked stricken, gulping.  “How many of your new Knights did you lose?”

“Nine,” Sunset breathed.  “I know, in the grand scheme of things, that nine is barely any losses.  Statistically, compared to the other Orders, the Resplendent came out practically unharmed.  I get that.  I’m supposed to think of the big picture.  Of what we won, what we accomplished.  But all I can do is keep going over those nine names, over and over, in my head.”  Sunset scowled.  “I really want to be happy that we won, but everything is just so…”

She trailed off.

“Give it time,” Rarity said softly, though she felt the same.  “We can mourn for now.  There’s plenty of time left for us to enjoy the fruits of our labor later.”

“Will there be, though?” Sunset’s muzzle twisted.  “Or is it gonna get even busier for us?  We have duties now.  The sun and the moon.  Learning from Cadance.  Figuring out all the new… stuff that comes with these.”  She fluttered her wings.  “Damn.  We’re probably going to have to have some huge coronation ceremony, too.”  She scowled.

“Ah, but a coronation means new dresses.  Darling, you must let me design yours.”

There wasn’t as much energy in the words as there would have been.  But a spark of joy nevertheless shone through the haze of melancholy—a hint of the eagerness she knew she’d feel in full when she’d had a little more time to process.

Sunset, for her part, stared at Rarity for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

“Of course.  Of course that’s the first thing you’d think about.”  There was a sort of relief in Sunset’s voice, a release of tension.  Rarity found herself smiling along.  In her hooves, Emberglow stirred, but didn’t rise.  “I’d love that, Rarity.  It sounds like the sorta thing we’ll need to decompress from all of this.”

“Things may have changed, but they didn’t change that much.”  Rarity was sure that, no matter what, her need to be fabulous would never fade away.

Sunset stood, smiling.  She did look a great deal less stressed after her laugh.  “I’ll let you both rest.  I’ve got some more faces I want to check on.”  Her grin became sheepish.  “I might be micromanaging, but I worry about my Knights.  Even though Oak’s already tried to order me back to my cabin to rest three times now.”

“Go have fun tormenting your Knight,” Rarity teased, and Sunset’s grin grew wicked.  “I’ll be here if you need me.” They shared another smile, and Sunset slipped out of the cabin, closing the door gently behind her.

There were a thousand things to fret about.  There were ponies to mourn.  There was the future to consider.  Her new wings were sore and desperately in need of stretching.  Plus the mystery of her horn.

There were questions about her new alicorn nature.  And there was the Path, the great mystery and the billion pony souls that rested there, waiting.  Another mystery that demanded attention.

But after her visit with Sunset, suddenly it all felt so much less daunting than before.

Rarity laid back on the cushioned, velvety surface of the divan.  She lit her horn, floating a blanket over herself and her sleeping marefriend.

The aura shifted.  Blue.  Mulberry.  Blue.  Mulberry.

Rarity didn’t care.  She closed her eyes and let herself drift off to sleep.


*   *   *   *   *


Emberglow woke with a small gasp, echoes of her nightmares still lingering on the edges of her thoughts.

She was warm.

Comfortable.

Safe.

She waited for the voices.  She waited to hear the cold hate in her mind again.

Nothing.

Blissful silence.

Instead, she heard the creaking of timbers.  There was wind, but it was a mundane, soft thing; white noise that filled the background, not her psyche.  And the soft breathing of somepony close by.

It was dark, but she could smell wood.  Lamp oil.

And Rarity.

The familiar, beloved scent banished the last fragmentary memory of her nightmares.  Emberglow blinked a few times, letting her eyes adjust.  Again, she was cuddled up to something warm, and something was wrapped around them both.

Rarity. 

She inhaled deep, letting the scent of her love, the presence, the closeness, fill her up.  Emberglow let the memories the smell invoked flow into her mind.

A comforting embrace in a cave.

A kiss on board a sailing ship.

A night of passion in a crystal palace.

Other details tried to insist upon Emberglow’s mind, but she let them pass by.  It wasn’t denial; they were there, just…

Right now, she felt untouchable.

There was anxiety and uncertainty.  But in this moment she knew; no matter what the future held, there would be plenty of chances to make more memories with the mare whose hooves and wings curled around her.

Emberglow savored it as long as she could.  Eventually, muscle stiffness and bodily needs pushed her to gently extract herself from the divan.

She carefully arranged the blanket around Rarity.  Rarity barely stirred, murmuring just a little in her sleep as Emberglow rose.  She smiled down with affection and love, kissing Rarity’s cheek softly.  Rarity smiled, but her eyes never opened.

Looking around herself, Emberglow lit the oil lamp on the wall.  She would have been happy to have normal quarters, but the airship captain, upon realizing that Rarity herself would be traveling aboard her airship had insisted the two of them take her cabin.

After everything that had happened, Emberglow didn’t have the energy to argue too vociferously.

It only took a moment to find what she was looking for.  Right next to the bed, in the bedside table’s drawer, was a small pad of paper and a pen.  She felt a little guilty for borrowing the captain’s supplies, but she had said that whatever they needed was at their disposal.

Emberglow would apologize later.

Quickly and silently, she scribbled out a quick note.

Rarity-

Went to get some fresh air on deck.  Join me when you can.

Love, Emberglow.

Writing the ‘love’ made her smile, a soft, fluttery sensation growing in her chest.  She looked back at Rarity, still asleep and tucked into her blanket.  Her gaze lifted to Rarity’s new horn, and Emberglow shuddered. 

It was just hours ago that she’d found Rarity hornless.  Now she was looking at a miracle.  The first unicorn in history, as far as anypony knew, to survive horn removal.

The thought made Emberglow think of her brother and of her parents.  They’d had barely enough time, as the Discordant were evacuating Old Canterlot, to reassure them that she was safe, and that they’d reconnect when the airships all landed in the Empire.

Her conflict with them seemed so petty now, in retrospect.

Leaving the note on the table where Rarity couldn’t possibly miss it, she quietly snuck out the door and into the hallway.

There was nopony about as Emberglow made her way up the stairs and, after a quick stop in the privy, out onto the airship’s deck.  Once she arrived above decks, she was surprised- the sun was down, and the velvety black skies above twinkled with stars.

It had been a while since Emberglow had seen stars.

There were still a few wispy clouds in the sky, but a gentle breeze from the south was already blowing them away.  Emberglow shivered; it was cold out here, outside of the blanket and outside of Rarity’s embrace.  But it wasn’t a stabbing cold.

It wasn’t the cold of death.

For a moment she waited at the top of the stairs, observing the dark figures of the night crew sailors going about their tasks.  Some of it looked familiar from all the time she’d spent on board ships.  Idly, she wondered what they were thinking—Diarchy citizens, surrounded by those they called heretics, transporting them safely northward. 

In the darkness beyond the airship, Emberglow could see the shadowy figures of dragons in the sky.

It felt like an impossible circumstance.  And yet, here she was.

Finally she moved over to the railing, leaning out so she could look down below.  It was a new moon, and the stars didn’t provide enough light to see much more than vague outlines of terrain down below, but she could barely make out, far to the north, the faint outline of the Crystal Mountains. 

For several quiet, chilly minutes, Emberglow leaned over the railing and stared out over a sleeping Equestria beneath her.  She let her mind go blank.  For a while, it worked- her thoughts were like dew, delicate and ephemeral, floating away no sooner than they had time to condense.

“Silly mare,” grunted a voice behind her, one thick with a Stalliongrad accent.  “You should find a bed.”

It brought a smile to her muzzle, and she turned.  Oak Chips wasn’t in his pony form, as Emberglow had first expected.  He was himself, red and black chitin, standing proudly with his orange gradient armor.

“Looks good on you,” Emberglow said.  “Sir Oak.”

Oak flinched.  “You’re changing the subject,” he said, his affected accent disappearing.  “You really should be resting.  Not freezing out here.  How are you not cold?”

“Pegasus, remember?”  She fluttered her wings.  “We’re cold-resistant.  Are you…” she paused, taking in his insectoid features.  “…are you exothermic?”

“Changelings are a special case,” he said, sounding grumpy.  “Endothermic, but since our sustenance is produced by emotion, our heat regulation is dependent on our magic, and how well we’ve been feeding.”

“So you’re cold, because you haven’t been eating enough love?”

“No, I’m just old and grumpy and tired of chasing mares back to their beds for rest,” Oak snapped back.

Emberglow giggled, beckoning him with a hoof.  He joined her at the railing, and she wrapped a wing around her old friend in a hug.

“There.  You can be a little warmer.”

“Silly mare,” he repeated.

“Silly bug,” Emberglow shot back.  He laughed.  “Are you okay?”

It was a big question, one she was sure she’d be asking a lot of ponies in the next few days.

It was a question with a very complicated answer, and Oak’s sigh just compounded that.

“Provisionally.  My princess lived.  Me and my Knights are heading home, where we will, presumably, be safe for a time.  The world was broken and remade before my eyes, and I’m still trying to process it.  I’m old, Emberglow, and sometimes I wonder if I’ve seen too much.”

He sighed again.

“But I know Escher would be proud of me.  I know my Princess, the rebellious, obstinate young fool that she is, will thrive.  I know that for an entire lifetime I’ve done my best to do my duty for my people and my Empire, and this new phase?  My new duty?  It exhausts me, but it also excites me in ways that make me feel young again.”

“So… the short answer is, ‘it’s complicated’,” Emberglow said, and Oak huffed out a laugh.  “I feel the same.”

“Have you talked to your parents yet?”

“We haven’t had a real chance.  They know I’m safe, but beyond that I don’t think they have any idea what happened.”  Honestly Emberglow wasn’t sure how to explain everything that had changed in the last few weeks.  “We fought, when they were still in Old Canterlot.  They… they accused Rarity of mind-controlling me.”

Oak snorted.  “Just parents panicking.  Old ponies are scared of change sometimes.  Uncertain futures are terrifying to those of us who’ve lived one way for so long.”

“I know,” she admitted, with a small shiver.  “Stepping out into the darkness… you really have to have faith sometimes that everything is going to turn out okay.”

Oak looked at her for a moment, then shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  Not just faith, at least.  Or not faith on its own.  I don’t want to just wait around and hope for good things to happen.  I want to step into that darkness and seize the future, reshape it, make it fit me and those I care about.  I remember a very young, very silly filly teaching me that lesson years ago, when she grew past her beginnings to become a doctor and a Knight.  And then later, a hero who saved the world from eternal ice.”

“I’m not all—”

“Oh, shove the modesty, Element of Honesty, and get used to being a role model,” Oak interrupted.  “I’m not kidding.”  His gaze drifted out over the starlit shadows down below.  “You really do inspire me, Emberglow.  Even if, ever since I met you, I find myself more and more burdened by silly mares in my life.”

Emberglow laughed and set aside her protests.  “Thank you for saying so.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll deflate your ego quick enough whenever I need to,” Oak said.  “But sometimes you need to know just how much good and right you’ve done for people.  Even me.”  He paused.  “Besides, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other in the future, I think.”

“We are?”

“I’ve been speaking to the Princess,” he said.  Emberglow realized he meant Princess Sunset.  “About what my Knights will be doing.  We’re to be protectors, I think.  Guardians.  Of the princesses first and foremost, like Princess Sunset and your Princess Rarity.”  Her heart fluttered a little at the possessive pronoun.  “You know that I’ve already heard ponies calling her the Princess of Hope?”

“Really?” Emberglow asked, but she wasn’t too surprised by the title. It made sense, in a way.

“Not just the Radiants, but my own Knights as well. Discordants and Angelic too.  So we’re going to be keeping her safe, alongside Princess Sunset.  Keep the ‘flame of hope’ burning, or something like that.  But not just her—the Princess’s families, and other people important to the Empire.  We have to—it’s a bigger world than it was before the shield came down.  Bigger and, in some ways, more unsafe.”

He was right.  The Empire was more unsafe than it had been before.  It was a part of the wider world, now, rather than keeping to its own little isolated corner.

“There’s a part of me that feels like I’m responsible for that,” Emberglow said.

Oak snorted with amusement.  “Silly mare.  The intelligence service has been warning about the Diarchy threat for years.  Isolation was only going to work for so long.  We had to come out of hiding someday.”

Emberglow nodded and squeezed Oak with her wing.  She had a startling realization; she was taller than him now.

He had always been bigger in her childhood—if not physically, then in wisdom and experience.

“Yes,” she said softly.  “But there’s a part of me that’s… unsettled.  Whether or not I’m responsible, it was our actions that broke the isolation.  There’s an entire country of people whose lives I helped upend.  Even if it had to happen anyway…”

She shook her head.  That wasn’t it.

“…there’s more.  With everything that changed, with everything we did accomplish, it still feels like a beginning, not an ending.  There’s unanswered questions, unresolved issues.  How will we ever relax when the next catastrophe could be just around the corner?”

“I know how I’m going to do it,” Oak said.  “By delegating.”  Emberglow laughed.  “No, I’m serious.  Colibri and Life Flight are good eggs.  Sure, my duties make me feel younger but I’m still old.  I’m already planning my retirement, when the two of them are ready for it.”

“I meant more for me, silly old stallion.”

“Hmm,” Oak mused.  “Same thing, I’d say.  Find ways to delegate and share your burdens.  You have enough friends for it.  Why, I’m sure—”

He broke off, his entire body jerking and stiffening.

“Rancid eggshells!  That mare!”

“What?” Emberglow looked at him, stunned.

Oak pointed to one of the other airships in the convoy.  Emberglow could barely make out on deck an orange figure landing.  It was the hospital ship.

“She’s supposed to be resting!  And she’s slipped her guard again!  She’s like a foal who keeps stealing from the cookie jar! Only with more lasers.” Oak groused.  “Excuse me.  I have a princess to go argue with.”

He looked her in the eye and smiled.

“Really, you’ll be fine, Emberglow.  Maybe you should be resting, too.”

And with that he sprung off the railing, wings buzzing as he flew towards the hospital ship.

Emberglow laughed.  The ship was far too distant for her to hear what was happening, but she could imagine the conversation just from what she could see of Oak and Sunset’s postures.  Oak landed, and Sunset flinched, then stood her ground.  Oak began gesticulating wildly, a hoof waving through the air.  Sunset leaned forward, clearly arguing back.

Finally Sunset turned, tossing her mane and marching off towards the hospital ship’s belowdecks.  Oak followed angrily. 

For a moment Emberglow wondered idly if she should go back inside.  Hoofsteps behind her made her pause.

“You know,” came the most beautiful voice in the world.  “I’m not sure why we need to brave the cold when we could have kept snuggling in bed.”

Emberglow smiled and didn’t even turn around.  She did, however, extend a wing.  Rarity slipped underneath it.

Like a puzzle piece that fit perfectly.  Emberglow felt a blanket float around their backs, even as she pulled Rarity tightly to her side.

“Maybe I needed the breeze to carry away all my worries.”

“It is far too early,” Rarity yawned, “to be waxing poetic, darling.  But I certainly appreciate the sentiment.”

“We could go inside if you like,” Emberglow offered, but Rarity nuzzled in closer.

“I think not,” Rarity said after a long pause.  “I should rather stay out here with you.  At least until somepony decides to tell me where to find the coffee.”

That sounded just fine to Emberglow.  She breathed in deep, filling her lungs with the chilly air.

It came with the same comforting scent that had driven off her nightmares when she’d awoken.  The scent of her love.

“What about you, though, Emberglow?” Rarity asked after a moment.  She could hear the concern in Rarity’s voice; emphasized by the fact that Rarity used her name, rather than an affectation.  “Are you okay?”

It was the same question.  And she smiled as she gave the same answer.  “It’s complicated,” she said with a small, soft laugh.

“You sound amused by that,” Rarity said.

Emberglow went silent, considering.  She was amused.  She was happy.  She knew it was a temporary thing; that in the days ahead she’d have a thousand questions to answer, a thousand problems to overcome.  She’d have duties and responsibilities befitting an Element and a noble of the Empire.  She would have to reckon with her parents.  With the help of her friends, she’d have to reckon with her fears, her guilt, her doubt, and her insecurities.

And it wasn’t just all about her.  The entire world was a mess, and Emberglow was certain she’d have to play a role in fixing that.  Doubly so, with her marefriend being a princess now.  There was no escaping it.  The Diarchy still limped onward on its twisted path. Their actions had only straightened some of its problems. 

Harmony was returning, but the march of progress would be slow and gradual.  And there were ponies who would resist it every step of the way.

Tomorrow, Emberglow would have to reckon with all of that.

But as for today…

“It’s just, I asked Oak the same thing a few minutes ago,” Emberglow said, smiling.  “And I got the same answer.  It’s complicated.”

She thought long and hard about trying to put it into words.

But in the end, it didn’t seem to matter.

“For now, though?  There’s no place I’d rather be.  And no matter how complicated the future is, I’m just glad you’re in it with me.”

Rarity said nothing at first, though Emberglow did hear her give a cute little sniff.  She reached up with a hoof to wipe at her own tears; her eyes were suddenly wet, leaving a moist trail on her cheeks.

“So tomorrow can take care of tomorrow.  And yesterday can worry about yesterday.  For today, I’d like to cuddle here with you and watch the sun rise.”

The two of them looked out over Equestria, silently letting the sounds of the ship, the wind, the sailors, and a thousand little things wash over them.

“I think that would be perfect, darling.”
> Epilogue: The Garden of Memories
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Epilogue: The Garden of Memories


I know that many of the greatest books ever written do not have an afterword.  I imagine more experienced authors let their writing stand on its own, without some sort of final explanation tying up loose ends or a comprehensive denouement.  But I am not an experienced author; perhaps my amateur writing and inexperience have shown through in the narrative.  Perhaps that inexperience bred insecurity, leaving me with a need to explain myself.

Or perhaps you, the reader, have sensed that I do not, I cannot, look at history with a journalist’s objective lens.  I was there.  I watched most of these events unfold myself.  And though my ambassadors and diplomats have begged me to change the tone of my work, to better reflect a more modern and more diplomatic approach to the Empire’s relationship with the Diarchy, I can’t help but tell the story the way I experienced it.

The way Emberglow experienced it.

I miss her still.  Though it has been nearly three centuries since she passed, I think of her daily.  Perhaps part of that is because I have spent the better part of the last decade working on this book.

I pause, lifting the pen from the notebook.  My thoughts are jumbled; the words aren’t coming out quite right.  I’m not sure exactly how to explain myself.

I feel inadequate.  A silly notion, really.  I am Rarity, after all.  Element of Harmony, Raiser of the Moon and Diarch of the Crystal Empire.  I am the Princess of Hope, the Flame of Prophecy and the Belle that Rings In the Future.  I have survived longer than most living ponies, and I have the experience to show for it.

At least, that is the version of myself I present to the public.  It makes me wonder if Celestia always felt this way.  I know Sunset still does; in our private moments, we share our hidden insecurities, our doubts, and our fears.  It is something Cadance required of us in our earliest days of rule—to share our burdens and learn from the pitfalls of the alicorns who came before us, so we do not repeat them.

Cadance looks so tired these days.  Today, especially, she will need my strength.  But for now, I needed to be alone, to come here, to this sacred place, this garden of memories, and write out my thoughts, however scrambled they are.

I touch the pen to paper again.  Part of me rationalizes that whatever I write doesn’t have to be perfect, because I can always go back and edit again.  But another part of me craves the honesty of an unfiltered pen.

I remember when I decided to finally write my own narrative of the Equestrian Civil War.  Historians and journalists had been asking me for years; nearly from the day we first returned to the Crystal Empire after the Battle of New Canterlot.  And every time I refused.

Part of it was that I felt unequal to the task.  Its very nature is daunting; after all it took years of research, diplomacy, travel, and even bribes to amass the sheer volume of primary and secondary documents I would need to finish it properly.  A hundred other authors have paved this road before me.  Many of them served as aids and inspiration, helping me to understand and uncover bits and pieces of the story of which I was unaware.  To those who came before, I give my gratitude.

Of all the historians, it is to Professor True Tale, author of Through My Father’s Eyes: The Great War that I owe the most.  Even though I watched Professor Tale grow up from a foal, I still think of him as the courageous scholar and cunning writer who pioneered the first comprehensive account of these events.  Princess Sunset Shimmer’s Phoenix Awakening was immensely useful.  There is also Echoes of Harmony by Gaston Half-Claw, and even the lamentably biased Faith’s Great Trial by Sir Chimera Opal of the Mystics.  Yes, I even read that piece of propaganda, no matter how downright worshipful it is, at times, of the late Steadfast Word. 

There is a part of me, even now, that still has nightmares about him.  That still wonders if we did the right thing, by letting the Radiants spirit away the empty husk of a pony that was left after the Elements blasted the Windigoes out of his broken, bleeding body.  They assured us that there was nothing left; that the Windigoes’ forced departure had hollowed him out.  

I understand he lived the rest of his days in a Radiant care facility, barely conscious.  I have a hard time not hating him for what he set in motion.

I pause.  Maybe I should temper my language a little.  But I let it stand for now.  Reading Sir Opal’s book had been an exercise in trudging through slime.  There is only so much slander a mare can take before she starts to take it personally, after all.  And only so much fawning over one of the most vicious villains I ever fought.  

I sigh and close the notebook for a moment.  The sight of the cover brightens me out of my funk, and I smile.  I am a princess, and have the vast fortunes of the Empire at my disposal.  In addition to that, there is my own personal fortune, amassed after years of fashion design, as well as three centuries of prudent investing.

I am, after all, still a business mare, even though my other responsibilities mean I cannot indulge in that side of myself as much as I used to.

Still, even though I could have been writing on the finest parchment, or a notebook with a chic design and a velvet-lined cover, something about this cheap, elementary-school pink paper notebook, plastered with gaudy stickers and a foal’s hoofwriting, makes my heart sing with joy.  ‘Best Princess’, it says in my student’s atrocious hoof-writing.  The stickers are mostly moons.

I truly understand why Celestia adored Twilight so.  The bond between a student and a teacher is a sacred, beautiful thing.  And perhaps nopony else will understand why I treasure this gift from my very young protegee, but I do not care.

It makes me feel connected, even though I am alone here at the Harmony Memorial.  Well, alone is perhaps not quite accurate.  Only about forty paces away I can see two Knights Resplendent, their enchanted bulletproof vests bulky under professional looking orange-and-yellow suits.  My own design.

I know that within earshot are half a dozen others, either hidden with camouflage spells or just out of sight.  Perhaps behind one of the many polished, black granite obelisks that dot the gentle green hills of the Memorial.  I look up at the obelisk I am sitting under.

None of the monuments have names; rather, each one has three sides, and are decorated simply with a cutie mark, carved into each side.  Each obelisk represents someone who bore an Element of Harmony, who has passed.  This one, in particular, is a cross with a crystalline heart inside.

Somewhere, probably later today, there would be a new obelisk erected; one with Heartwing’s butterfly-in-profile cutie mark.

I made sure they were putting it next to Terminus Flash’s. 

I know nopony thinks of the Memorial as a graveyard.  For good reason; the Elements are not buried here.  But I seldom visit Emberglow’s gravesite.  I shall probably not visit Heartwing’s much either.

When I need to feel connected to my friends, I come here.  And today, on the day after Heartwing finally passed, I need to feel close to him.

Oh, there will be memorial services.  There are already a thousand notifications on my phone; I’ve set the blasted thing to silent mode for now.  A rare event—I usually like to have my hoof on the pulse of my subjects’ trends and foibles.  Of all the technologies that came about after The Return, smartphones and social media are by far the most useful and the most annoying. 

Besides, the planning can wait; I need some time to process by myself, first, in this place of peace.

I will have to stand and give speeches.  I’ll weep like a babe; centuries of life have not changed the fact that I’m an irredeemable drama queen. 

Besides, it’s what Heartwing would have wanted.  I can almost hear his voice now, teasing me.  I can already feel the tears on my cheeks, even as I smile.  He always was one to laugh at the most inopportune time.

For a while, he was my anchor.  As the Elements, my Elements, started to pass on from old age, he was there by my side for each one.  Nopony can truly be ready for something like that, but he did his best to prepare me. 

He lingered, too.  I got the sense that he was staying for Sunset and I, to make sure we would be fine. 

Yesterday, he finally passed on.  When I am ready, I will go search the sea of stars that shine down on the Path, and find his.  The old soul deserves another rebirth, at least.

I shake my head.  My thoughts truly are scattered today.  Perhaps I shouldn’t be writing this on the eve of Heartwing’s funeral.  But it seemed like a fitting mood for the closing chapter.

It was Sir Heartwing, finally, who convinced me to write.  Though people had been asking for years, it was his voice that swayed me, because he reminded me of one thing.  No matter how many accounts had been written of the so-called Great War, none had been written about Emberglow herself. 

There have been, of course, other accounts.  Professor True’s book is a biography of his father.  Sir Opal’s piece biographies Sir Steadfast, though with dubious accuracy.  Even Sunset Shimmer gave her perspective.  But I had never allowed a single journalist to access the most intimate of accounts; Emberglow’s own journals and writings.

And she did write about it.  Topaz Glitter suggested journaling as therapy for all of us, as the trauma of those events still plagued our nightmares and weighed fresh on our minds.  I don’t believe Emberglow ever intended for any of these events to be made public; however, I can think of no better way to memorialize her than to remember who she was, and to share this beautiful pony’s life with all of you.

There is a commotion amongst my guards.  They’re speaking with somepony.  I smile.  It is my darling student’s father.  How he knew to find me here, I cannot guess.  It’s probably her doing—my pupil is a genius at reading ponies.  I wish I could claim credit, but the spark was already there.

I know, because I saw it. In an alternate future, in another timeline, another reality, I saw the potential for greatness in her.  Given her own experience, Sunset Shimmer has warned me, many times, of the peril of my picking students the way Celestia did.  But even though Sunset took a rocky path to her crown, Celestia’s methods still work.

Time will tell if my darling student will rise to the potential I saw in her.  But, even if she doesn’t become an alicorn like Sunset or I, I know she will find another path to greatness.

My pupil’s father is done talking to the guards, and now I see her, bounding across the soft grass and between the obelisks, each one a memorial to one of the Elements of Harmony.  I see her stop and stare at the black granite upon which Twilight Sparkle’s cutie mark is carved.

She does always love it when I tell her stories of Twilight.

When she nears, however, she slows down.  I see the nervousness in her gait.

“Sunny Starscout, my dear student.  Welcome.”

My words wash away the nervousness, and she gallops over.  I make eye contact with her father, and nod.  He looks nervous as well.  But Argyle is a wise pony.  I imagine that, even though I had canceled Sunny’s lessons for today, her perceptive father guessed that I might be in need of company, regardless.

“H-hi, princess,” Sunny starts, smiling.  “Um.  Is it okay that I’m here?  I know you wanted to be alone, but…”

She shuffles, one hoof rubbing on another nervously. A familiar motion, indeed.

“But what, darling?”

“But dad said you might need a hug.”

I have to choke back tears.

“I do, Sunny.  Today, I do.”

With all the unpretentious honesty of foalhood she surges forward, wrapping her hooves around my neck.  I hug her back.

“Thank you for coming today, Sunny.”

“Yeah!” she says brightly.  “Um.  I’m ‘sposed to say, sorry for your loss.”

She glances down, and suddenly her face lights up.

“Oh!  That’s the notebook I gave you!  Whatchya writing?”

“The end of a book, Sunny,” I say.  “Something very special, about one of the Elements of Harmony.”

“Sir Heartwing?” she guesses.  Of course that would be the first one to come to her mind.  But I shake my head.

“No.” I point at the obelisk above us.  “Do you remember who this mark belonged to?”

I can see her thinking, remembering her studies.  “Lady… Emberglow.  Element of Honesty.  The… second one?”

“Third, actually,” I correct.  “For before Applejack and Emberglow, the Elements were borne by the Sisters, Celestia and Luna.”

I wonder how much I sound like Twilight Sparkle.  Do I have a lecture voice?  Probably not, but I still sometimes feel her watching me whenever I teach.  I sometimes still imagine the smell of libraries, of old paper and ink and dragonfire.

I hope I am half the teacher she was.

“Oh, right!” Sunny says.  “And Emberglow was also…”

Her eyes widen. 

“…um.  Your wife.”  Her gaze darts between the obelisk and my face.  “Um.  You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, I am,” I say.  I smile at her.  “It’s hard to write a book about somepony if you’re not thinking about them.”

“Can you read it to me?  Like a story?”

Her eager joy makes my heart sing.  I wonder if Celestia felt like this as a teacher.  I know Twilight did.

“It might be a little scary for young ponies,” I tease, knowing what’s coming immediately after I speak.

Sunny stands up tall, puffing out her chest and trying, subconsciously perhaps, to make herself look as large as possible.  “I’m old enough!”

“Well, then, we shall have to start at the beginning, won’t we?” I say.  “But not right now.  I’m still writing the book, after all.”

There will be a whole process afterwards.  The editors already have the main body of my manuscript, and are likely hard at work.  It will be months until publishing time.  But I find myself impatient to share Emberglow’s life with an eager listener. 

“Can I help you write?”

“Hmm.  Well, what if you stay with me as I write?  You can read as I do.”  Maybe not the most efficient way of writing, as I know she’ll have questions.  She always does.

Sunny slides in so she’s sitting next to me on the grass, and I slide the notebook so she can read.  Lighting my horn, I levitate the pen and keep writing as she catches up.

I suppose, though, at the end of it all, I wanted to write Emberglow’s story not just as a history, or as a textbook.  I didn’t want to write a mere biography. 

I wanted a narrative, an epic that would capture the feel of those days, the tension and passion, the terror and elation.  It wasn’t about facts, it was about emotion.  Because no mere list of facts would ever come close to what I remember.

Perhaps that is why I cannot ever be objective.  A part of me wishes the reader could live those days at our side, to understand just what it meant to me.  And to be her.  Perhaps it is not just the reader I wish to put into Emberglow’s shoes, but myself.  I want to once again hurt when she hurts, and cry when she cries, and laugh when she laughs. 

“Why?”

Sunny’s voice interrupts my train of thought.  She’s pointing at the passage I just wrote.

“Why what, my student?”

“Why do you want to hurt and cry, like your wife?”

It is a foal’s question, of course.  But there is a sort of wisdom to it, a wisdom that Emberglow realized, in that last, desperate moment. 

“Because sometimes we have to embrace those things: pain, fear, and doubt.”  Three centuries of life have given me experience, perhaps, but some things are still hard to articulate.  “Emberglow understood how to allow herself to feel those things, to make them a part of her, without ignoring or rejecting them.  The dark parts of our lives are still parts of our lives, and when I feel what Emberglow felt, even in her dark moments, it’s like she’s with me at my side again.”

“Oh.”  She is clearly trying to wrap her head around the idea.  I wait for more questions, but Sunny is busy thinking.  So I write some more.

I hope the reader will not see me as being self-indulgent.  Perhaps this whole exercise was something I did for myself, something I undertook so that I could better remember my beloved.  Perhaps only I will find value in it, and if so, I am satisfied.

But my hope is that this chronicle will have some value for someone out there.

“Princess Rarity?”

Sunny is looking up at me.  She’s troubled.

“Yes, my student?”

“When you’re done with your book, and after you read it to me, can you help me with something?”

“Of course.  What do you need?”

She points at the page again, at the passage about my hope that my self-indulgent project will be of some use to somepony.

“Um, this.  When you’ve told me Lady Emberglow’s story, would you help me write a book?  About my mom?  I don’t remember her much, but I love her.  And I want to remember too.  Like you.  I want to feel what she felt.”

Tears clouded my vision again, and I looked at the last words I wrote.

Perhaps that would be sufficient for an afterword.  Especially if, before it was even published, it was already inspiring my pupil.

“Of course I will, my dear student.  Of course I will.”


The cycle continues.

The Path is eternal.

The heart never forgets.



The End